Chapter 155 – The Siege of Alkazaria

Professor Endresen had taught Mirian all manner of lensing spells, mostly to look at the intricacies of glyph formation. However, the same principles worked to bend light to view distant objects.

From the newspapers she’d seen, she knew Ibrahim usually started the siege with an attack early on the morning of the 8th, so she layered a lens spell with a night-vision spell, and was surprised to find it actually worked. She just had to make sure she avoided looking at the nearby glyphlamps so she didn’t blind herself.

There were two train lines that moved west out of the city, one that hugged the Ibaihan River, and another that eventually split off north towards west Baracuel. A few hours before dawn, she finally caught the distinct infrared radiating off an unscheduled train heading toward the city.

With the war in Persama so close to the city, Alkazaria had never quite given up its security protocols. There were still manned gatehouses along the wall where roads and train tracks entered the city. The western gates closest to the more southern track were, unexpectedly, silent, but the gatehouse north of them wasn’t. It sent up a red flare, which meant ‘stop.’

The train slowed, but it didn’t stop.

Mirian could just make out the faint light of warm bodies pouring out of the cars as soon as the train came through the western gate.

That gate should have been closed, or should have gotten an alarm off. So he does have an advance force, or is able to intimidate key people through messages.

They quickly organized into columns of about a hundred, each of which split off.

He has companies heading to key objectives. Each one must have detailed orders, which means he had to craft them himself.

She directed the lens spell to watch one group. That all came from a single train car!? Ibrahim was cramming at least a hundred people, all loaded with equipment, into each car. However, there were only 20 cars, including freight cars, which was actually above what the spell engine was rated for. At most, he has 2000 troops. The rest of the army must still be marching, but if he wants a surprise attack this early, he has to give up numbers for speed.

Mirian squinted, watching as the companies fanned out. He was trying to take a capital city with a single brigade. Absolute madness. There’s at least twice as many guards as he has troops right now, and that doesn’t take into account the Arcane Praetorians.

It was an impressive logistical feat. More, because the majority of his army could only have been established and organized several days ago at most.

The man is relentless, she thought. If anything, Rostal had understated it. I’ve at least taken breaks. I wonder if he has. Though come to think of it, neither has Troytin.

The minutes ticked by. Then, at last, the distant crack of gunfire echoed from the northwest gate, and two more flares went up. Alkazaria was big enough it never quite went to sleep, so as Ibrahim’s companies ran into night laborers and drunks, shouting rose up as panicked people fled from the sudden incursion of troops. Mirian stopped channeling her night-vision spell so she could better pick out the flashes.

More flashes of light erupted from the northwest gate. Someone there was giving the Persamans trouble. Then there was an explosion, and dozens of flares went up all at once; the whole area looked like a miniature lightning storm frolicking with a rainbow.

By then, scattered firefights had erupted all over the western part of the city. From what she could tell, they were targeting key crossroads and guard stations, while another group seized gatehouses along the wall. The minutes ticked by. The city guards usually dealt with criminals, not organized military units, so were getting pushed back rapidly across the city. However, a company of a hundred was ill suited to both push and hold anything. Their rapid advance had more holes in it than an unwarded telegraph cable. She could make out city guards the Persamans had accidentally bypassed behind their lines running from street to street.

Alarm bells began to ring throughout the city, the loud gongs desperately clanging.

Finally, there was a reaction from the Citadel. Mirian moved over to one of the apartment’s windows where she had a better view. Lights had come on everywhere, and, she suspected, divination machines. She could just make out commotion in one of the courtyards. Then, heart pounding, she watched as two dozen Arcane Praetorians levitated up from the citadel at once, traveling in four formations. Mirian rushed back over to the balcony, fingers gripping the railing tight as she leaned forward to watch.

The Persaman advanced force had the element of surprise. Based on how many of them had dropped behind cover, they had foreknowledge of when the counter-attack would come. They had rifles, and certainly were loaded with spellpiercer ammunition. They seemed highly motivated and disciplined. It was 2000 to 24.

But there really was just no substitute for raw spellpower.

The Praetorian formations were artillery and detection rolled into one. Gunfire erupted from the flat roofs of buildings, from windows, and from alleys. She could just make out the flare of shields around the Praetorians as they swooped across the city. Then came the retaliation.

Massive fireballs flared out, flashing bright in the night sky. Like red flowers, they bloomed all over the western line. Some of the Praetorians sent out thin beams of fire or lightning, while others attacked with airbursts. The coordinated fire was absolutely devastating, more so because the Praetorians seemed to be using divination to identify clusters of soldiers to target. Whether their guns barked out or stayed silent, they met the same fate: massive aerial bombardment.

Everywhere, the flash of spells was continuous. As the Praetorians smashed the Persaman forces, the garrison at the Citadel advanced through the streets. Some of them moved down the hill to reinforce the Praetorians and scattered guards, while another group started moving north, aiming to secure the gates along the wall. As soon as they had the north gate, they moved along the wall, occupying the fortifications with squads.

They finally stopped by the northwest gate, which had apparently finally fallen, but the exchange of fire hardly lasted ten minutes before one of the Praetorian formations came down and ripped the Persaman company apart.

Fires spread throughout the city, and the fire sorcerers were stuck behind the line of battle. The Praetorians were ignoring the fires in favor of targeting the invaders, but by now, the streets were filling with panicked civilians running about in every direction. Most must have been sheltering in fear, but in several buildings, it wasn’t an option. The situation was rapidly devolving into chaos. Alkazarian construction didn’t burn easily, but there was a lot of fire. As smoke billowed out into the night, it became harder to make out the shape of the battle. Still, the screams echoed up to her. A lot of innocent people were going to die tonight.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Mirian looked out west. The train wasn’t there any longer. At some point, it had started moving back, probably to pick up a new group of soldiers.

By morning, the Baracueli military had retaken the sections of the wall they’d lost. Why the surprise attack? Mirian wondered. He kills a bunch of possible defenders, but it’s mostly guards and civilians. And in exchange, loses most of a brigade, and alerts the city so they’ll be prepared for the larger force.

***

The answer came two nights later.