B4 Chapter 483: Plight of the Living, pt. 1

Afternoon sun streamed into the siege tower that had been erected near the eastern gate. Even with the pleasant warmth and the view of the frontier, it was hard to enjoy the peace when Kaius felt like an alchemist had set up shop in his bones. He had far too much energy, and nothing to do with it.

Afterall, there were only so many times he could run drills to get used to his prosthetic. He was long past the point he felt like tearing the thing off and hurling it back into the dark pit from whence it came.

Atop that golden spire, his team rested with him in an uneasy silence.

The beasts were close — the ultimate battle for the city at hand. Scrying and scouts had confirmed it: a slow-moving wave that crashed its way across the frontier. They had a day, maybe two, before it arrived.

He couldn’t help but think of the Frontier communities that had been in its path. Dozens of villages, hamlets, and even a few small townships. Thousands of souls.

There had been refugees early, as the warning had gone out. They’d been few in number — and had come bearing stories of men patrolling walls and families barring their doors, certain that their defences would be enough to weather the storm. He could only hope that some of them had survived.

It was a thin hope. No scout was suicidal enough to get close to the horde. And while the army itself was easy to track, any fleeing survivors would be lost in all the chaos.

At least the mages had finished with the city’s defences. The tower he now shared with his team was close to the eastern wall and the Delver’s Guild. It had been a miracle to watch. Dragon’s teeth encircled the city, and a deep trench had been cut beneath the walls. Every city gate had been sealed off with strides of stone. They were less reinforced than the quality construction of proper walls built by masons and supported by enchantment, but still an additional defence.

“What do we do if the city falls?” Kenva said quietly. “If the Tyrant proves too strong?”

“It won’t,” Kaius replied.

Kenva shook her head. “We still have to consider it. I am confident too, and clearly none of us fear the risks of battle. But not even we can take on an army alone. We should be certain before the battle comes.”

An unpleasant topic, but Kaius knew in his gut that she was right. He let out a slow breath, adjusting his leg as his prosthetic began to tug uncomfortably.

“Clearly, we shouldn’t sacrifice ourselves for nothing. Risking it all in a battle against the Tyrant is one thing, but if we are truly routed, it is pointless to throw ourselves into an army.”

“We should fall back to Dawntown if that does happen. With our landyacht, we could save at least a few. Dawntown would likely be a harder target for the beasts to find than Mystral. We can help defend them from any strays.”

Kaius hissed — he hadn’t even thought of Dawntown. The Tyrant’s army had kept a consistent western heading, so further to the north as it was, Dawntown had a degree of safety. Still, that was one place he refused to leave to defend itself.

Dozens of bells started to ring through the city. Two beats, then one, then one. Each peal rocked him like an ogre’s club. Any thought of further discussion died in his throat. The pattern was unmistakable: a warning cry. An emergency. A call for the most powerful in the city to gather at the guild.

Something had happened.

Kaius was on his feet in moments. The tension he felt within his bones wound even tighter — ready to explode now that he could finally act.

….

All but ramming the door, Kaius burst into the guildhall back office that the attendant had directed him to. It cracked into the wall, drawing the eyes of Arc and the Mystral mages.

Neither Ro nor Rieker looked up, focused instead on a map laid out over a table.

“Good, you’re here,” Ro said. “We have a problem.”

“That much is obvious — what happened?” Porkchop asked, filing into the room behind Kaius as they clustered around the table.

Ro tapped a red sweeping line that cut through the frontier, just a day out from the city walls. “The beasts. They’re close enough that our far-scouts are getting a better picture of their numbers. They found something else.”

She tapped a red X, just a fingerwidth ahead of the army. “Survivors.”

It fell like a knife. Kaius stared at the mark on the map, his mouth growing dry.

“Fuck.”

Those poor bastards. Running for their lives — the nearest villages were at least a day further still from the city. Kaius couldn’t even imagine the fear, the exhaustion…

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“How many?” Kenva whispered.

Rieker sighed. It was a heavy sound — one of resignation. Kaius didn’t even need to hear his response. No matter the number, it wasn’t high enough.

“Fifty-seven. Two-thirds are combat capable; it’s the only reason they’re still alive. The beasts aren’t moving in formation, and they have no set battle lines. Plenty are ranging far ahead — they’re beset on all sides.”

“The other third?” the life mage, Madrigal, asked — her face pale.

When Rieker winced, Ro answered for him. She was clipped, professional, despite the horror she described.

“Non-combatants. Mostly adults, though a few are carrying children. No unclassed over the age of ten.”

Kaius felt the picture she painted like it had been branded on him. No unclassed. They were too slow — of course they’d fallen. Even if their parents had tried to carry them, the weight alone would have slowed them too. These were farmers. Common labourers. Common classes, with fifty levels at most.