BROCK
"Loose!" I roared, and a hundred siege engines released at once, sending great boulders into the air. Those that were launched from the trebuchets tumbled as they arced, those that were launched from the catapults flew unspinning upon a line-drive path. The trebuchet boulders rained into Mid Fort, and the catapult boulders smashed into its walls, caving in the final few lengths of its eastern-facing side, revealing the inner sanctum, the citadel, and the high tower. Debris blasted in the air, a great column of dust rising after it. Stones rolled from the pile of rubble and fell from the cliffside, joining the gold-armored bodies that had been sent flailing from the ramparts. The ogres loaded the engines once more, and once more, I gave the order. Boulders flew and arced, then smashed into the organized rock above, exploding against mortared bricks and punching great holes into walls and rooftops. I ordered the tarred and hayed rocks into carriages, and we set them aflame. Upon release, they shot through the sky like earthborn meteors, then splashed onto the fortress above. The fire spread to pitch roofs, wooden beams and textile tarps, and within minutes, all of Mid Fort was aflame. But the mages were too quick for the structure to be rendered to ash, and the inferno was quelled.
I waited for the returning salvo. My eyes scanned the top of the ridgeline, but there was no movement.
"There hasn't been a return salvo in five days." Trenok said, "He's moved his engines elsewhere."
"You're sure?" I asked, raising an incredulous brow.
"He's calling our bluff." He grinned at me, "I can't wait to see his face when he realizes we called his."
I frowned at the ridgeline. "He's goading us."
"We don't ascend near the forts; why would he waste his engines on us when he can slaughter hundreds that actually attack?"
"He's waiting for us to tip our hand."
"He thinks we already have!" Trenok insisted, "You always told me not to underestimate the enemy. Well, the enemy has underestimated us, and we must press our advantage!"
It went against my judgement, but inaction went against my nature, and Trenok at least had a plan. I raised my fist, and jerked it forward. From behind the piles of boulder, the ogres wheeled out twelve ballistae. They'd been left over from the Highlanders at the battle of the Tundra, and we'd only just managed to repair them to working condition. They ogres quickly positioned them fifty yards in front of the row of throwers, then loaded the great iron spears, and loosed. The spears shot through the air, a trail of rope flowing behind them. They struck the cliffside with a thud, and the ropes tied to their butts dangled to the ground below.
"Too low?" I asked Trenok.
"Too high," he replied, "they need to be below the lip of the cliff, or the imperials will be able to burn them off."
I gauged the ridgeline, then ordered another round to be shot. A dozen more spears imbedded themselves in the cliffside, the ropes dangling.
"Perfect." Trenok said, "That spot between the rise of the ridgeline and the eastern wall, that's the soft spot. Only eighty feet to the top, and not enough room to station a good defense point."
"Shordian will just send climbers down to cut the ropes."
"And we'll nail them to the rock." Trenok laughed, "These elven bows might not have range, but they can hit a fly from a hundred yards out. We can... ah shit!"
Scores of highland ballistae were wheeled into position atop the ridgeline, their bows drawn back and loaded.
"Get them back!" I yelled fruitlessly. The ogres grabbed the ballistae and pulled desperately, but there wasn't enough time. The engines fired at once, and a line of motion appeared from the top of the ridge, to the valley floor. Our ballistae were blown into splinters, sending razor-sharp iron shrapnel shooting toward our lines. Ogre limbs were cut clean off, men were split in two, pieces of meat were shorn grotesquely away, the punctures so clean that the shape of the shrapnel could be seen in the wounds. Engines were folded in half by wrought-iron shafts, and an unfortunate few ogres were speared to the earth. Ropes were sent cascading over the top of the wall, and climbers repelled down them, and cut the ropes off the ballista spears.
My mirror lit up. I palmed it, and Field Marshal Shordian's smug face appeared. "Brock, that seemed wholly amateurish. I'm disappointed."
"You were boring me." I grumbled.
"Boredom is a young man's bane." He chuckled, "I was wondering when you'd let Trenok grab the reins."
"No one who didn't make a mistake ever learned a damn thing."
"And now you know not to let children play a man's game."
"No harm done. We have hundreds of ballistae in production."
"I'm sure you do." He sneered, and palmed the mirror.
"I'm sorry, Dad." Trenok grumbled, leaning against the trebuchet with his face in his arm.
I put my hand on his shoulder. "You fucked up, Trenok, but I don't feel for a second that I made a mistake in trusting you."
He grunted in reply, and it was enough. He would carry the shame, but he had learned. Another salvo ascended from the top of the ridgeline, and we fired back in kind, throwing the same boulders back and forth at each other until the midmorning sun rose overhead.
YAVARA
It felt like a lifetime had passed since I'd last been in Ardeni Dreus. I stepped from the unassuming building Zander used as a portal, and onto a backstreet of the greatest city in the world. The majesty of the city still wowed me, but the excitement wasn't as great as the first time I'd been there. I looked down the road, and saw Prestira's bar at the corner. It was shuttered and locked, the windows broken, and the sign torn down. People passed me without even noticing me, their faces downcast and haggard. I hadn't realized the first time I was here that Prestira had lived in a slum. I was so struck by the city around me that I hadn't recognized destitution, but I saw it now. Ardeni Dreus was a great city, but there was a hopelessness within it that did not exist in Alkandra. There was fear in Alkandra, there was rage, heartbreak, and sorrow, but there was not despair and misery. The world had its evils, and I preferred them to be painful rather than numb. I planted my feet onto the cobblestones, and shot into the sky.
I circled above the city, waiting for my audience to arrive. When I was sure all of Ardeni Dreus had emptied into the streets, I dove to the earth, and a great cheer rose from them. Fire shot from my hands, forming great dragon-like wings at my sides, and with my mind, I projected a single thought for all receptive brains to hear,
Hello, great citizens of Ardeni Dreus! Thank you all for such a warm welcome!
Their exclamations of wonder filled my ears and mind, and I swooped above the crowd, telekinetically picking up scores of citizens so that they could fly with me. Some screamed, some laughed with joy, and others simply gawked. One young boy tried flapping his arms like wings, cackling in delight. I laughed with him, and returned the people to their families, giving them a story they would tell everyone until their last breath. I indulged in theatrics for another five minutes, displaying my fireworks, performing great acrobatic feats in the sky, projecting my thoughts of good will into the world. When I felt I'd done enough, I landed upon the top steps of the palace, where King Albert Dreus was waiting for me.
"Your Highness." I smiled at him, bowing my head.
"Your Highness." He smiled in turn, "I believe I told you the last time you were here that I don't appreciate impromptu parades in my capital."
"Whoopsie." My smile broadened, and I took his arm.
A few minutes later, we were seated in an extravagant parlor, being attended to by his servants. There was a man seated beside King Albert Dreus who could only be Prince Arthur Dreus, first in line to the throne.
"How do you like Matthew?" King Dreus asked.