Book 2 - Chapter 30

Noah swung his arm in circles over his head a few times before releasing the weighted metal ball in his hand. The boleadora shot across the clearing toward his target—a tree no wider than thirty centimeters. He watched the rope whip around the trunk, tangling itself in a way that would trip most creatures.

Unless they fly, he thought as he jogged to retrieve it. In which case I’ve got to hope these things work on wings too.

As he reached the tree, his eyes drifted down the hill. The orange light of sunset washed over Crownspire. From his vantage point he could see fires still burning, toppled towers, and hundreds of small figures moving through the ruins. The main spell tower still stood, a bluish light flickering from its top — one that stood as high as he did, even though he was on a hill.

Frustration welled up. He tore his gaze away, focusing on untangling the boleadora before heading back to the clearing. As he did, he spotted a pink‑haired figure approaching the royal guards standing watch nearby. He clipped the weapon back onto his belt just as she came within earshot.

“The fortifications have been constructed, and the weapons are awaiting your inspection,” she said.

“Thank you.” He laced his fingers with hers. “Will you come with me?”

“Of course.”

They walked in silence, the noise of the hastily established camp growing louder as they approached the newly dug trench. Citizen‑volunteers, Braemont guards, and Therondalian veterans recognized the royal guards flanking them and lowered several planks so they could cross. Once Noah and Mara were over, the planks were pulled back, the soldiers’ eyes fixed on the treeline.

Noah nodded to several of them, noting the barrels stashed in the trenches before heading toward the battery of war machines arranged along the front line.

“Any more attacks?” he asked.

“None since we arrived yesterday. It appears Prince Cassian’s offensive from the east has occupied their attention.”

“So Mara’s plan is working.”

“So far. There are still fewer than a thousand troops here—and very few conduits. According to the runners, the prince has roughly three thousand, but I estimate ten thousand would be required for a frontal assault.”

“Then this had better work,” Noah said as they reached the first trebuchet.

A Braemont city guard jogged up and saluted—fist to chest, head bowed. “We’ve built the machine as requested, sir.”

“Let me take a look.”

He walked the length of the fifteen‑meter wooden frame while the ten‑man crew stood at attention. Despite being built only yesterday from nearby timber, the craftsmanship was better than he’d expected. They’d followed his designs exactly—from the twenty‑meter A‑frame to the wide base to the sling attached to the long throwing arm.

“And the projectiles?” he asked.

“Taken from the quarry and cut to your specifications,” the man said. “Equal sizes and lengths.”

“How about the counterweights?”

“It was difficult, but we found pieces that worked. Our dray beasts were exhausted by the end.”

Noah glanced downhill at the magical lights hung at regular intervals. “Any issues setting up the ranging?”

“Only minor injuries. Some Corrupted found one of the conduits we sent out.” He patted the large crossbow slung across his back. “These things work wonders, sir.”

“Good.” Noah nodded toward the other trebuchets. “Are the others in good shape?”

“Yes, sir. The crews are ready to launch.”

“Show me the ballistae.”

He followed the man around the trebuchet to the side of the camp, where several scaled‑up versions of his crossbow sat mounted on wagons for mobility. Buckets bolted to the sides held meter‑long bolts.

I wish I had more time to figure out how to load them with magazines, Noah thought as he inspected one. We’ll have to make do with one or two shots per minute.

“These are good,” he said at last. “You’d better get back to your position. I’m going to give Mara the all‑clear so she can start the attack.”

“About damn time,” the man said—then quickly added, “Sir.”

“Couldn’t agree more. Waiting’s the worst part,” Noah agreed before turning away.

He marched with Ciri and the royal guards toward a nondescript tent at the back of the camp. As they approached, Ken’s training kicked in and Noah immediately clocked several plain‑clothed guards loitering nearby, weapons close at hand. They relaxed when they recognized him, allowing him to pull back the brown fabric flap and step inside.

“There you both are,” Mara said, looking up from the table she stood over. “I’m assuming the inspections are done?”

“That’s right,” Noah replied as Piper slipped out from under the table to rub against his legs. “We’re ready on your command.”

“We should strike now,” Ken advised, glancing up from the map. “Nightfall is close, and we’ll need as many hours of darkness as possible.”

Noah moved toward the map. It showed a topographical view of the area, their camp marked five hundred meters from the city walls. Red X’s dotted the eastern side where Corrupted attacks had occurred, and blue marks at the edge of the map indicated the approximate position of the Therondalian army.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“As soon as that first stone hits, things are going to happen fast,” Noah cautioned.

“Hesitation is death,” Ken reminded him.

“Choosing your battlefield is key to success. That includes timing,” Noah countered.

Ken leaned back and grinned. “You’ve learned fast. I’m not sure I’ve got anything left to teach you.”

“I had a good teacher.” Noah nodded, then looked at Mara. “I say we go.”

“Captain!” Mara called.

An armored man stepped inside. “Your highness?”

“Battle positions.”

“At once.” He turned and left.

Orders barked through the thin tent walls, followed by pounding footsteps, metal clanging, and the rising din of nearly a thousand people readying for battle. Noah met the eyes of everyone in the tent, steadying them—and himself.

“I should go,” Ciri said. “The hospital tent will need me soon.”

“I should as well,” Ken added, patting the crossbow slung across his front before reaching for his knife. “I’ll patrol the flanks before the fighting starts.”

Noah placed a hand on his shoulder. “Be safe out there.”

“And you.” Ken nodded and slipped out.

“Æven thyræl quoris velæn,” Ciri said.

“Æven thyræl quoris ænthor,” Noah answered, kissing her.

Her golden eyes lingered on his before she stepped out, leaving him alone with Mara and Piper. He knelt to scratch the runt griffon’s haunches, then moved to Mara and placed a hand on her hip. She bit her lip, deep in thought.

“Nervous?” he asked.

“A bit,” she admitted. “I’ve just… never launched a siege of the capital before.”

“They say the first time’s always the hardest.”

She blinked. “Is that a saying from your world?”

“Yeah, but it usually applies to dates, not warfare.” He paused. “Though honestly, those two things have a lot in common.”

She laughed despite everything, then grabbed a steel helmet from the ground. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe. But it got you out of your head.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice.” She leaned in and kissed him.

He returned it, then pulled back. “Let’s get this done.”

She slid on her helmet, the metal covering most of her face. “Agreed.”

Piper crawled up Noah’s back to her usual perch as he opened the tent flap. The moment they stepped out, they were surrounded by troops—royal guards, Braemont city guards, Therondalian army remnants, and volunteers.

Together they moved toward the trenches, already filled with soldiers wielding large crossbows.

Noah couldn’t help noticing the way people looked at Mara. Fear of the coming battle, yes—but also admiration, and hope. Even the veterans breathed easier when she passed.

Noah couldn’t be prouder.

“Captain,” Mara said, stopping at the trench’s edge. “Give the order.”

“Teams, ready!”

A flurry of movement erupted around the trebuchets.

“Aim!”

Noah ran through the calculations one last time, praying he hadn’t misjudged.

“Fire!”

Pins were pulled. Counterweights dropped. Wood groaned but held as the long arms snapped upward, hurling enormous stones into the sky. Every eye followed their arc as they sailed over the walls and smashed into the ruined city beyond.

Sorry, Ciri, Noah thought as cheers erupted. We’ll save what we can.

The artillery crews worked with practiced efficiency. One trebuchet crew fumbled an order, dropping a stone on a man’s foot, but he was quickly carried to the infirmary and replaced.

“Fire!” the commander shouted again.

Another trio of stones arced through the air, blasting apart buildings. This time, the city gates flew open. A steady stream of figures poured out—too distant to distinguish, except that some walked on two legs, some on four, and some on many, many more.

“Looks like they figured it out,” Noah muttered.

“Figured what out?” Mara asked.

“That we can keep firing forever. So now they’re coming to stop us.”

She nodded. “Give the signal.”

The captain raised a curved horn and blew. A long note rolled across the battlefield. Noah squinted toward either side of the hill.

A moment later, twin lines of flame erupted on both flanks. They raced inward, stopping thirty meters apart—where scouts had soaked the ground with water the night before. The blaze grew bright enough to illuminate the battlefield, eliminating any advantage the darkness might have given the enemy.

And forcing them straight into the meat grinder, Noah thought.

The eldritch creatures behaved exactly as predicted, skirting the flames and funneling into the gap. The distinctive twang of massive bowstrings rang out as they reached it, followed by shrieks as meter‑long bolts punched through their bodies.

The Corrupted, however, remained uncooperative. They charged straight through the flames, completely unfazed by the fact they were now on fire. As they neared, the captain cleared his throat.

“Shall I give the order for the crossbows, ma’am?”

Mara looked at Noah. “Now?”

“Not yet.” Noah shook his head. “Wait until they hit that last magical light. Otherwise we may as well be throwing pebbles.”

Seconds crawled by. Sweat beaded on Noah’s brow. More Corrupted emerged from the flames, threatening to overwhelm the front line.

Just a bit more.

He nodded. “Now!”

“Crossbows, fire!”

A fusillade of bolts tore into the front ranks. To Noah’s frustration, only half were headshots; the rest struck bodies, staggering but not killing. He started down the hill—but froze when the captain shouted again.

“All troops, fire at will!”

The second, third, and fourth volleys from the repeating crossbows annihilated the front ranks. More Corrupted surged forward, falling closer and closer to the trenches. Ballistae bolts began hitting monsters on their way toward the eldritch creatures, breaking the bottleneck and letting them charge freely.

To make matters worse, winged creatures began pouring out of the city. A cloud of them soared over the flames, arrowing straight toward the camp. Several were knocked from the sky by another trebuchet salvo, but far too many survived and continued their aerial charge.

“Captain!” Noah shouted. “Barrels, now! Then focus fire on the flyers!”

He looked at Mara. “Your highness?”

“Do it!” she ordered.

“Barrels!” he cried.

Crossbow fire lightened for a moment as crews shifted tasks, allowing the front line of Corrupted to close to melee range. Everywhere they reached the trenches, they met steel. Guards hacked and stabbed, repeating crossbows fired point‑blank, and the screams of dying men echoed in Noah’s ears.

Even as the first Corrupted fell, crews began dumping barrels of water down the slope. Three conduits stepped forward at equal intervals, tearing pages from their grimoires before blasting the hillside with jets of water identical to the Tollmen’s. In seconds, the dirt turned to slick, sucking mud.

All the pain tolerance in the world isn’t gonna help you climb that hill, assholes, Noah thought, drawing his own crossbow for the first time.

He took careful aim at the nearest flying creature, estimating the distance as he tracked its movement. It looked like someone had taken a bat, grafted on the talons of a bird of prey and the torso of a man, then scaled the whole thing up to human size. Its enormous ears twitched as it flew, red eyes glowing in the dim light. Fangs jutted from its mouth, black fur covered its neck and legs, and jagged spikes lined the edges of its wings.

No thanks, Noah thought as he pulled the trigger.

The creature had no magical resistance—or at least none that mattered. The bolt punched straight through its piglike nose, tearing through skull and brain before exiting the other side. Noah sidestepped its falling corpse, letting it slam into the ground with a heavy thud.

Then the orderly battle dissolved into chaos.

The flying creatures were individually fragile, but there were far too many of them. And with most of the crossbow fire redirected skyward, more Corrupted managed to stagger through the muck and crash into the front ranks. More screams rose from the trenches as the real fighting began.

No plan survives contact with the enemy, Noah recalled Lucien saying as he fired again, dropping another flyer. Guess this is when we find out if we can really pull this off.