Chapter 71 – The Second Battle of Torrviol

The morning before the battle, Mirian visited Mayor Ethwarn in his office. He hadn’t been meeting there lately, and when she arrived, she could see why. He’d had all of the nice wooden facade torn off, and two artisans and an arcanist were busy putting it back up.

“What happened with the walls?” Mirian asked.

Magistrate Ada paused glancing through her papers and said, “The previous assistant had a magical listening device. It was linked to a bunch of hidden glyphs in the office. We wanted to make sure we removed them all, just in case.”

Mirian thought back to the assistant hastily stuffing something away into his desk last cycle. “That explains quite a bit. Where did you end up finding the hidden glyphs?”

The arcanist paused his work to show her. Mirian closed her eyes and thought of the Ominian’s throne room so she would better remember the exact spots.

“Is that head spy talking yet?” Mayor Ethwarn asked.

“The false captain? No. But the Department of Public Security finally responded. There is supposed to be a unit here. Actually, they were insisting it was up here, in contact with me, and that they’d been receiving the regular reports with no interruption, so I must have been mistaken. It took quite a bit of hammering to get through that particular bureaucratic wall.”

“They do know there’s about to be a war on, right?” Mayor Ethwarn sighed. “Government,” he said, shaking his head. Mirian wasn’t sure if he had fully internalized that he was also part of the government now. Magistrate Ada didn’t say anything.

“How goes the evacuation?” Mirian asked.

“Well enough. You were right about the banebriars to the south, of course, but evacuating across the lake is much easier. The palisade is already up, and while it’s no spellward barrier, it has enough enchantments on it to do the job. Boats are already moving people across the lake. Most of the civilians should be in the clear by evening. General Hanaran is quite pleased too, because it means no one’s hassling her about the train, and it gives her more flexibility for her defense.”

“And the passages?”

“Construction teams finished blocking them off yesterday. The arcanists have scattered explosive traps around too. The people of Torrviol are resilient,” the mayor beamed proudly. “Those damn traitors will pay.”

***

This time, Mirian had warned General Hanaran that Bainrose was the enemy’s primary objective and could give her a general idea of how the battle had progressed. How much of the strategy the Akanans used was contingent on what their spies delivered, she would have to find out.

Mirian took her position up on one of the towers of Bainrose again. Nicolus, Lily, and Xipuatl all stood with her. Nurea had gone across the lake with the other refugees; she had no idea what Nicolus had said to her for that to happen. Valen had opted again to fight with the militia. When she looked at her friends standing with her, it was with a mix of joy and grief. Joy, because they were here with her. Grief, because she would watch them die again. How many times would she watch that? The sting had lessened, but would she ever be numb to it? Would I ever want to be numb to it?

She cast those thoughts aside, and focused on the task at hand. She needed to remember the changes, and remember the battle. For now, they would die, so that in some distant future, they might live. Mirian blinked away her tears, and swallowed her sorrow.

This time, Hanaran had deployed several of her regiments two miles outside the spellward to hit the Akanan column before it was deployed. They would try to periodically hit the enemy as they fell back, partially to delay them, but mostly to make them spend blood and ammunition on something that wasn’t the primary defenses. The forest was perfect for covering the operation. The dense foliage blocked them from the sight of the airships, while trunks and roots slowed any advance to prevent encirclement. Torrviol arcanists had also worked to carve out trenches and fell some of the large trees to slow the battle wagons and artillery further.

This time, the fighting started a few hours earlier. The deep rumble of distant guns first told them of the engagement. Periodically, the Baracueli scouts would send up three flares of light in a row, the color combination informing the watchers from Torrviol what the Akanans were doing. That was further supported by arcane eye spells all across the developing front.

Hanaran had paired Mirian with an observer on the tower, so that as they magically communicated with command below, she would also learn it. Red, blue, and red flares went up in the distant forest, followed by red, green and red. “The Akanan advance has halted again in the center, but is continuing in the north. Another attempt at an encirclement,” the observer said. Ten minutes later, it was a red, white, and red flare, almost directly west of them, past the shallow hills the dorms were on. “One of their divisions has broken off the main group and is deploying along that path. The western line can expect contact with the enemy soon.”

By the time night fell, General Hanaran had pulled all her forward units back, and the artillery on both sides was thundering out. The two airships had taken several aggressive approaches throughout the evening, but several hits to their hulls had taught them caution. Mirian got a sense that the Akanans had a much worse idea of Baracuel’s force disposition, but they had by no means come in blind. More spies to find, she noted.

Two hours after midnight, the artillery barrage intensified. It felt more like a storm than a battle, with bright spells flaring across the front. Blossoming flames and jagged lightning crisscrossed the battlefield. Here and there, screams echoed up to them.

“Is it always like this?” Nicolus asked. He had grown sullen as the battle progressed.

“No. Usually it’s a one-sided massacre. This is…” What did she say to that? Better? It was still horrific. But if the war couldn’t be prevented, what else was there to do but fight? “…it’s usually worse.”

“I’ve always thought that if people were logical, we’d all never fight a war again. My dad always told me I was being naive. My mom always told me the realities of war would change my mind.” Nicolus shook his head. “But I was right.”

Mirian watched as another artillery barrage crashed down on the eastern line, sending up gouts of flame where she knew soldiers had just been. The Baracueli artillery responded a moment later, and near the tree-line wind and lightning swirled about from a storm-shell. Above, the airships loomed above them like colossal vultures circling a corpse. The rooftop artillery had them hanging back, but little by little those guns were being knocked out.

“Yeah,” Mirian said. “So we just do the best we can with the hand we’re dealt. Maybe someday,” she said.

Nicolus raised an imaginary mug to the sky. “To someday!” he said, and quaffed the nothing with gusto.

Off to the east, the dormitories were on fire again, the roiling black clouds blending into the scattered low clouds. An Akanan battle-wagon moved to the north, only to erupt in flames as the Torrviol guns opened up on it. Then the first earthshaker shell hit the northeast tower of Bainrose.

“Airships are coming in for another sortie,” the observer said. “Right at us. Everyone below!”

By the time they made it to the ground level, Bainrose Castle was shaking violently. Parts of the vaulted ceiling and chunks of the wall rained down, and the soldiers had to shout to be heard as the tremendous roar of explosions came again and again.

“General, the castle can’t take much more bombardment,” one of the officers called to Hanaran. “They’ve been able to maneuver too many artillery pieces into position. We’re getting hit all across the defensive arc.”

Just then, a messenger came up from the stairs. “Captain Cassius says our position will be overrun soon. Enemy geomancers have opened up holes all along the basement on two floors. We either need reinforcements immediately, or to order the withdrawal before we’re penned in!”

Hanaran nodded, but whatever she said next was lost to the sound of another bombardment. A huge chunk of stone fell from the ceiling, then froze in mid-flight as two sorcerers caught it with a force spell and gently redirected it to an empty spot.

“Sir?”

“I said give the order!” Hanaran shouted. To Mirian, she asked, “What happens next?”

“Something happens to the Divine Monument,” she said. “I intend to find out what. I’ll see you again. We’ll do better next time.”

Hanaran shook her head. “You really believe it, don’t you? Shiamagoth save us. Alright, let’s go. Let’s go!”

As the General and her staff evacuated, Mirian turned to her friends. “I’m heading down. Do you want to come?”

Lily shook her head. “I’d rather go. I don’t want to be… trapped down there.” She shivered.

Nicolus shrugged. “I’ll come. Might as well.”

Xipuatl looked between the two. “I suppose I will too,” he said.

Jei didn’t say anything, but Mirian already knew what her decision was. As they made their way to the outer part of the tower, a soldier warned them off, telling them the third floor had collapsed.

Mirian let out a curse. “That blocks the passage. We need to go to Griffin Hall.”

Jei shook her head. “Too dangerous. And there’s likely Akanans in the underground. The inner staircase is behind here,” she said, pointing at the stone wall. “Move back.” She pulled out her orb. It hovered above her right hand, glowing, as she extended her left towards the wall.

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Mirian felt the pulses of magic before she saw the effect. Cracks ran through the stone wall, but it wasn’t mere force Jei was applying. The composition of the rock changed, from the hardy looking gray stone to something crumbly and pale. When Jei finally did pull it apart with force walls, the stone fell apart without much resistance, and became a pile of dust off to the side.

Xipuatl said something in Tlaxa, then followed it up with, “There’s no way the general arcane theory has incorporated that into its framework. Mirian…”

Bainrose shook again, kicking up a cloud of the dusty rock. “Now isn’t quite the time. I promise, I’ll look into it.”

They filed through the hole in the wall and started descending the hidden staircase. The bombardment had dislodged a support stone midway down the stairs, and they had to duck under a partially collapsed arch.

As they passed through the storage room, they could hear the muted sound of gunfire, coming perhaps from behind the secret door, or maybe echoing through the partially collapsed tunnels nearby. Bits of debris kept coming loose from the ceiling. Mirian prayed they wouldn’t get trapped by a collapse and slowly suffocate.

Close to the lower passages, the sounds of a pitched battle grew. As they descended another of the stairs, they practically ran into a Baracuel army unit in the dim light. “Gods, you scared the shit out of us,” one of the soldiers said. “Are you… militia? Reinforcements? The enemy arcanists are trying to open up a tunnel between the catacombs and this spot. We can’t hold them much longer.”

Mirian’s mouth grew dry. “Bainrose is being evacuated,” she said. “General Hanaran just gave the order.” The colored bands on their arms and their Academy dress already indicated their status as militia.

“What? Shit!”

“There’s a passage opened up on the first floor,” Mirian told them. “I don’t know how much longer the castle will hold.”

“Sir,” another of the soldiers said. “Our orders were to hold, even if the castle was evacuated. Our fallback position is still clear. Until then, we need to prevent the rest of the army from being overrun.” Several of the other arcanists looked up from their work. Based on the pages of the spellbooks Mirian could see, they were casting remote earthshaping magic and divination.

The first soldier looked up the way Mirian’s group had come, then back toward the wall. “If we stay here, we’re dead,” he said. “I can’t believe the captain meant to assign us a suicide mission.”