B5 Chapter 79 – Shadows and Fire

Just how much magick did the damned Necromancer have access to? Fire roared into the sky once more, arcing high overhead before plummeting down to vanish into the darkness. Plumes of golden flames burst from the miasma, able to be heard even from kilometres away and searing into the eyes of all who saw them. Even so, Elinon could pay no attention to the bombardment of Foxbridge. Overhead, a wailing scream like the howl of the damned drowned out almost all sound as another skull-shaped cloud descended on the Golden Legion.

“Shield!” he called, bellowing his orders to be heard over the din.

Weaving the shield at the very limit of their range, the mages responsible snapped it into place on his command, high overhead. Rather than detonate, the skull of dark magick merely bent and flowed, losing its shape and becoming a formless cloud. Part of the miasma, robbed of its momentum, began to drift and disperse, but the rest, closer to the edges, continued to fall, rolling off the sides of the shield and raining down on the massed ranks of soldiers below.

Only the magickal wind maintained by the mages prevented it from reaching the ground and sapping the life from their flesh.

Yet, this was a losing game. Creating the golden flame took enormous amounts of magick, as did forming the shields, as did maintaining the wind. Even more than the cost of the spells, the strain placed on the minds, hands and voices of the mages under his command was beginning to worry Elinon. From here they were expected to assist in the assault on the darkness, providing close-range magickal support to the soldiers in the front ranks. If his people were too depleted from this exchange, their usefulness would be greatly diminished.

Which only begged the question. If he was worrying about this, with hundreds of Gold Ranked mages by his side, how much strain was the Necromancer under? There was nobody else in that cloud casting spells except for him and his minions, who drew on his power to do so.

After two hours of bombardment, how worn down had he become?

For a single mage to contest with an entire company of the Empire’s finest was… absurd. No matter how depleted his mages became, Elinon was confident the Necromancer was suffering to a far greater extent.

From the corner of his eye he saw General Crow approaching and snapped out a salute, maintaining the pose as his commanding officer approached.

“At ease, Mage Captain,” the General said.

As always, the man was as solid as a block of iron, unmoved and unperturbed by anything he was seeing. There was a reason the soldiers on this expedition had come to respect the General to such an extent. Of all the commanders Elinon had served under, this man was unique in his steady calm and iron discipline. It reassured him.

General Rasmus Crow stepped beside the Mage Captain and turned back to look toward Foxbridge and the cloud that covered it.

“Is it worth maintaining our barrage, or should we move to the next stage of the battle?” Crow asked forthrightly. “As the ranking mage, I would like to hear your opinion.”

Elinon nodded, gathering his thoughts.

“We haven’t been able to see what effect the barrage has had with our own eyes, but we know it must be significant. If the enemy has been shielding the impacts, then it has cost them a tremendous amount of magick and effort. If not, we can assume a significant amount of damage has been inflicted.”

Almost every inch of Foxbridge had been hit as part of the creeping barrage, each subsequent blast falling in a slightly different location than the previous. No matter where the Necromancer had hidden his undead, they had been hit at some point.

Even if he’d been moving them around to try and dodge the barrage, any arrays he had prepared would have had to be vigorously defended or be destroyed. Elinon had every confidence in the golden fire his mages had been raining down. An artillery spell without peer, capable of immense devastation at the point of impact, and the flames burned for hours if not suppressed. No matter what he did, the Necromancer had to have been struggling.

“We can maintain the barrage, but I believe we may see diminishing returns. If you wish to engage on the ground today, then I believe it would be best to conserve the mental energy of the mage division to support the soldiers during their offensive.”

General Crow nodded, hands clasped behind his back, posture straight as an iron rod as he stared into the darkness in the distance.

“Do you believe it would be worth extending the barrage another day? Moving the assault to tomorrow?”

Elinon hesitated. Making such a judgement was a difficult task, since he couldn’t know just how successful the bombardment had been.

“Our enemy is a platinum ranked Necromancer. Giving them more time is probably a poor idea.”

After a moment, the General nodded in agreement.

“As you say. Cease the bombardment and prepare your mages to advance. Five minutes, Mage Captain.”

“Yes, General Crow.”

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Although the men and women under his command were drained, they were gold ranked mages, capable of superhuman efforts. No mere Slayer could hope to match their strength of will and discipline.

No sooner had the General stepped away, officers responding as he issued his orders in an unyielding tone, than his own Mage Attendants were by his side.

“Disperse the artillery arrays and instruct everyone with less than seventy percent of their magick to replenish it immediately. The ground assault will proceed, ensure your teams are ready.”

Melissa and Petyr saluted quickly, eyes alight with anticipation as they rushed back to the regiment, organising and harrying as they went. After raining fire down on towns and slaughtering heretics from afar, everyone in the Golden Legion was looking forward to some proper fighting, and the mage brigade were no different in this respect.

Some up-close battle magick, crushing a traitor and enemy of the Empire. This was what they trained so hard for.

Elinon strode up and down the line, staff in hand as he stared at the mages under his command, searching for any sign of weakness, any hint of unpreparedness. A short word here, a clipped command there was all that was required to instill a sense of urgency and caution amongst his people.