Chapter 23
We submitted our reports and a plan was drawn. The only thing left to do was suit up.
Mespanian uniforms weren’t unlike everyday Dahlsian clothing—a single-piece, skin-tight costume covering the whole body. The only difference was plates of tertium inserted over vital areas. Tertium was too brittle to offer physical protection, but unlike steel, it could be saturated with protective spells. Enough to stop malignant magic and change the trajectory of physical weapons; just a couple of inches, but that was usually enough to pass by vital organs.
The boots were the only thingw resembling proper armor. Knee-tall and reinforced with steel, they were made to ensure we survived stepping on camouflaged predators. Those things were surprisingly common for the cluster with limited merging and little to no animal life.
Then there was a utility belt, or, more accurately, a medicine belt. Adrenaline shots, painkillers, vaka, healing clay, everything we needed to keep a soldier going. Below it, a wand holster sat on the left thigh, and on the right was a scabbard with a telescopic sword.
On top of it all was the helmet; its visor made of reinforced glass, with a thought-controlled display capable of switching to night-vision, infra-vision, and spell detection. A telepathic link connected me to all the other members of the Cohort. And, of course, it had a built-in air filter.
All in all, it was the perfect suit for a Mespanian. It kept away toxins and allergens, protected from extreme temperatures, pressure changes, wild magic, acid rains, and alkali lakes. It prevented animals from getting enough purchase to do real damage. If I fell off the mountain, it would make sure I wouldn’t scrape my knee.
I had no idea how it would do against swords and crossbows.
But, what I realized, not without certain amusement, was that at this moment I probably had more spells on me than most warlocks. With zero point eighty-nine on the Kevar scale. Suck on that, natural talent!
“Line up!” I shouted and watched as my Cohort formed rows of twelve people each. Except for the last one; that only had eleven. And a hole.
A big, human-sized hole.
“Count to twelve.”
We put so much work into organizing dozens just to ignore them. But we couldn’t fight in groups; we weren’t trained for that. We fought as individuals. And for such we planned.
“Remember your number; there’s a chance we’ll have to split. In that case, I will command you as numbers—ones, twos, threes. Understood?”
“Yes, vessár!”
“Good. Now mount.”
The Seventh Cohort was meant to be a part of the first wave. Our job was to breach the walls and neutralize or otherwise engage the crossbowmen, clearing the way for the main forces. The Fourth Cohort, or what was left of it, provided aerial support, while the Second stayed behind to guard the camp with the sorcerers doing their best to keep us all alive. Some vessár-ai opted to stay as well. Not me.
I could feel the curious gazes of my colleagues—my subordinates—wondering what I was going to do. But there was only one thing to do, right?
I mounted my bike. I leaned forward, almost resting my chest on the seat, and the magic shield automatically unfolded around me. No spell could stop iron bolts, but the tingling of magic all over my skin gave me a sense of security.
I picked up the telepathic signal from Myar Mal and passed it to my soldiers.
With a predatory growl, my bike came to life. We set out.
Very quickly, I spotted bright orange shapes taking lead. Ssothians were too heavy for bikes, but fast on their feet. I sent a quick order; we had to hold the line.
Tarvissi probably noticed us bustling around the camp, so now a group of crossbowmen took up position right in the middle of the way. They must have been ready to die, because there was no way they would make it back to the mansion. I whispered a magnifying spell and saw them up close, cocking their weapons. Arbalests, I realized, not regular crossbows. Enough power to shatter rocks, but not great speed. They raised them in unison, prepared…
And shot.
For a moment, it was like a wall of darkness rushing at us. And then it fell… right on the illusion proceeding our forces. The images dispelled, and the bolts hit the ground a few paces before the first bikes. With the magnifying spell, I saw shock and fear painted on our enemies’ faces. No chance they would be able to draw their weapons again. I smirked, then dispelled the magnification.
“Evens dismount, odds carry on.”
Ignoring my own words, I pushed on, straight into the line of crossbowmen, twisting my bike sideways seconds before impact and jumping off. I rolled and sprung to my feet in no time, reaching for my weapons.
“Fours, eights, and twelves at defense, the rest on the attack.”
The dozenal system had its advantages. While half of my Cohort dismounted to take care of the crossbowmen, I could further divide it into pairs, making one person responsible for defense—in this case, summoning a wall of fire—while another attacked. Simple and efficient.
The first strike came from above. I parried the opponent’s ax and kicked him in the chest before my brain caught up with my muscles, and I raised my wand. A flash of light and he was dead. Another enemy ran toward me. I killed him before he got close. A third one was kneeling, his eyes wide in shock, bloodied hands still clutched the hilt of the sword protruding from a Mespanian’s chest. Anger rushed through me and I cast the killing spell.
Only instinct saved me from the next one. I jerked to the left and the sword brushed my ribs, clinking on the tertium plates. I twisted and lifted my own weapon, just in time to block her next charge. She was good; fast and clever, coming at me with quick,
