Chapter 359 - 352 — Behind the Ridge

Somewhere along the Avarran frontline

Commander Veylan was halfway through a cup of wine when Captain Lethan placed the warning from headquarters beside his untouched meal.

The bread had gone hard, the meat was cold, and someone had brought him the wrong casualty list twice that day. He had hoped the papers would contain news of the supplies he had requested. Instead, they described another battle around the tollhouse.

"They held the position, did they not?" he asked.

"They did, Commander. Headquarters wants us to read the section about the bombardment."

Veylan set down his cup and drew the report closer.

His command post occupied an old customs house behind a broad ridge, several kilometres along the front from Senn’s position. Its upper room overlooked the supply road and three connecting trenches. Thick stone walls and a protective ward had kept the building usable through weeks of fighting.

Outside, soldiers were unloading a wagon while a cook tried to drag a basket of vegetables away from a stubborn mule. Beyond the courtyard, the ridge blocked Veylan’s view of the demon lines.

"Their crews could not see the enemy guns," Lethan explained. "But the shells kept landing closer to their shelters. Their mage believes someone was watching through an observation spell and correcting the fire."

Veylan lowered the papers and studied his captain.

"Do you actually believe what is written here, Lethan?"

Before Lethan could answer, a distant explosion rattled the windows. Veylan glanced toward the thin column of dirt rising beyond the orchard.

"That is the second shot the demons landed closest to us today. Perhaps their observer should tell them we have already picked the fruit."

Lethan stepped closer to the window.

"The first shell fell farther down the road. This one is closer to us."

"And Skullbreakers have been throwing shells over that ridge since we took this building. I know they can fire at something they cannot see."

"The warning concerns how accurately they can do it now."

Veylan returned to the report. When he reached the estimate beneath the account of the quarry bombardment, his eyebrows rose.

"Five kilometres away, and now they can pick out individual shelters?"

"That distance is an estimate. Nobody has seen the weapons themselves."

"Nothing like that exists anywhere."

He leaned back and lifted his wine.

"I have watched those bastards miss an entire fortress. Have these demons suddenly grown brains?"

One of the clerks laughed before bending over his papers. Lethan kept his hand on the report.

"They damaged several firing positions. Commander Karrek considered the account serious enough to circulate it."

"Karrek has to consider every account serious. I have to decide which ones require moving two hundred men before they have eaten."

"We could move the command staff downstairs and have the mages conceal the building while we examine the warning."

Veylan followed his captain’s gaze toward the orchard.

The ridge had kept the Warhounds from firing directly into the customs house, and the old demon artillery usually scattered its shells across the surrounding fields. Whenever a round had landed close enough to threaten the building, the ward had held.

He saw little reason to abandon a room that had survived weeks of bombardment because another commander’s shelters had suffered damage.

"Have Miren inspect the ward," he said, setting the report beside his plate. "We will finish the company reports here."

Lethan hesitated.

Veylan waved him toward the door.

"And do not worry so much, my boy. We have been through worse than a few shells in an orchard."

Lethan had barely turned away when a white flash filled the windows.

BOOM!

The impact shook the building hard enough to throw Veylan’s cup across the table. Glass shattered over the clerks’ benches, and the protective ward flared above the courtyard as fragments struck its surface.

Lethan ducked beneath a spray of splinters. When he looked up, wine was spreading across the warning from headquarters.

Veylan stared at the broken window.

"Maybe they have," he muttered.

He pushed back his chair and shouted toward the stunned clerks.

"Everyone downstairs! Leave the papers!"

The men scrambled from their benches. One slipped on the broken glass, and Lethan caught him by the collar before his head struck the table.

Miren appeared in the doorway with her staff gripped in both hands. Light flickered along its silver bands, and a thin line of blood ran from the elf’s nose.

"The ward caught that shell, but one of the courtyard anchors has cracked. Get everyone below!"

Another explosion struck above the roof before she finished ushering the clerks through the door.

The ward marks around the windows blazed. Dust poured from the ceiling, and a long crack opened in the plaster above Veylan’s chair.

He followed the others toward the stairs.

The third shell struck while he was crossing the doorway.

A sharp, splintering sound ran through the building as the main ward failed. Miren staggered against the wall, nearly losing her staff.

Lethan caught her arm.

"Can you protect the stairs?"

She forced the staff against the floor. A pale barrier spread above the passage just as the next shell tore into the upper room.

The blast hurled Veylan against the doorframe.

He cried out, clutching his left arm, and fell onto the stairs. Lethan grabbed the back of his coat before he could tumble headfirst onto the landing.

Behind them, a roof beam struck Miren’s barrier. The light bowed beneath its weight.

"Keep moving!" she shouted.

Lethan hauled Veylan down the remaining steps while the commander struggled to keep his feet. Two more explosions struck outside, one close enough to blow the lower doors inward.

They reached the cellar entrance as masonry crashed onto the stairway behind them.

Veylan tried to straighten when they lowered him onto a bench. Pain caught him beneath the ribs, forcing him to sit back with his teeth clenched.

A healer cut through the sleeve around his injured arm.

"The bone is broken," she said. "Hold still while I bind it."

"Find the others first."

"There is another healer with them.Let me finish this before you make the injury worse."

Veylan looked past her.

The cellar was filling with soldiers and clerks. A young messenger lay on a blanket while another healer pressed glowing hands against his chest. Beside him, the clerk who had laughed upstairs was holding a blood-soaked cloth against his face.

Lethan stood near the entrance, helping a sergeant organize the men.

"Keep the passage clear for the wounded," he ordered. "Send runners through the covered trenches. I need to know whether the demons are advancing."

The sergeant hurried away.

Miren knelt beside one of the ward stones built into the cellar’s supporting pillars. As she passed her hand across its surface, the markings brightened and a faint blue glow spread along the ceiling.

Veylan waited until the healer secured his arm against his chest.

"How long will this shelter hold?" he asked.

"It has its own ward, and the stone above us is thicker," Miren replied. "But I would not remain here while they continue firing."

As if answering her, another shell burst in the courtyard. The ceiling shook, scattering dust over the wounded.

Lethan crouched beside Veylan.

"We should move command into the eastern trench shelter."

"Arrange it. Take the wounded through first, and keep the courtyard clear."

Miren suddenly stopped working on the ward stone.

"There is an observation spell over the building."

Both officers turned toward her.

"Can you interfere with it?" Veylan asked.

"I can try, but someone must take over this ward."

A younger mage knelt beside her. Once he had control of the protection, Miren rose and pressed her palm against the cellar wall.

Fine threads of light spread through the cracks between the stones.

Lethan watched her expression tighten.

"He is resisting?" he asked.

"He is trying to clear the interference. Chances are, he wants to see what those shells destroyed."

Veylan looked toward the blocked stairway.

The shots in the orchard had probably been the enemy finding their aim. He had watched them land closer and treated the movement as another example of poor shooting.

"Will blinding him stop the bombardment?" he asked.

"They have already found this building," Miren replied. "Their crews can keep firing at the same place. Obstructing his view should make it harder for him to follow us when we move."

"Then keep him occupied."

Veylan beckoned Lethan closer with his uninjured hand.

"Move the reserve company into the side trenches. Have the mages conceal the entrances to our new command shelter. We will not gather every officer beneath the next roof they choose to hit."

A runner arrived before Lethan could answer.

"The forward companies have not seen an advance, Commander. Their officers are asking what happened here."

"Tell them command is moving, since the demons apparently disapprove of our accommodation, and they are to keep watching the approaches."

The runner departed, passing the signal clerk as he entered with the communication crystal wrapped in his coat.

"The stand was broken, but the crystal still works," the clerk reported.

"Contact southwestern command," Veylan ordered. "Tell them what struck us and request a dragon to search beyond the ridge."

Lethan looked toward him.

"We still cannot give them the guns’ exact position."

"Tell them that as well. I want someone to find the weapons before we send soldiers looking for them on the ground."

The clerk placed the crystal on a supply box and began calling command.

While they waited for an answer, the healer tightened Veylan’s sling. He winced but made no attempt to stop her.(Healing take time so she is just stopping bleeding and doing emergency steps till she has the time.)

"Send Karrek the full account too," he told Lethan. "Tell him the warning was justified."

By the time Lethan’s report reached southwestern headquarters, General Ordan’s map was already covered with fresh marks.

The commander of the southwestern front stood beside the table while his staff compared reports arriving from the damaged sectors. Some had come directly from surviving officers. Others had passed through neighboring posts after their own command shelters were destroyed.

An aide placed the customs house report beside the latest loss returns.

"Veylan is alive, my lord. He has a broken arm and other injuries, but his staff is moving into a trench shelter. His forward companies were still holding when this message was sent."

Ordan read the account of the ward failing beneath successive impacts.

"How many positions have we lost till now?"

"About thirty-five along the southwestern front. We are still checking the latest returns."

Ordan’s fingers tightened around the paper.

"Are those damaged positions or positions we no longer hold?"

"Positions we no longer hold, my lord. Some were overrun. Others had to be abandoned after their shelters and connecting passages were destroyed."

Captain Hadrik, one of the command’s artillery officers, leaned across the map.

Several losses lay close together. Where one position had fallen, the demons had gained access to trenches leading toward the defenders beside it. Elsewhere, damaged passages had prevented ammunition and replenishment soldiers from reaching the men still fighting.

"They are following the bombardment with infantry," Hadrik said. "They probably do not need to break every shelter. If they destroy one position and keep its neighbors under cover, their assault troops can get between them."

Ordan placed Veylan’s report beside two others.

"These commanders describe closely grouped shells from guns they could not see. Were they being attacked at the same time?"

"According to their reports, the bombardments overlapped. If the times are correct, chances are we are dealing with more than the battery beyond the quarry."

"More of the same weapon huh?"

"Probably, though some of these attacks may still involve their older artillery. We need someone to see the guns before we can be certain."

Ordan studied the ridges marked behind the enemy lines.

"What do you think of the high command guess?"

"That is possible. Their forges already make the barrels and ammunition. Building a carriage would probably require less work than building an entire Warhound."

Hadrik pointed to the ground beyond the customs house.

"If that is what they have done, the ridge is keeping our lookouts from seeing the guns. Our artillery cannot answer accurately while we only have a rough direction."

"Veylan has requested a dragon."

"A view from above would help. The other affected sectors need the same."

Ordan turned to his aide.

"Contact the dragon detachment assigned to this front. Have them search the suspected firing areas and report the guns’ positions. Warn them that Nightwings may be waiting beyond the ridges."

The aide began writing.

"Should the reserve companies prepare to retake the lost positions?"

Ordan examined the roads behind the fallen defenses. Sending men to recover every abandoned shelter would divide the reserves among too many separate attacks. If the demons reached the supply roads first, even the companies that had held their ground would be in trouble.

"Secure these road crossings and trench junctions," he ordered, pointing them out. "Send replenishment soldiers and ward teams to the positions covering them. The sector commanders are to restore contact with their neighboring units before committing to counterattacks."

He moved Veylan’s report to the top of the pile.

"Have every command post prepare another shelter. Their mages are to watch for observation spells and conceal the entrances. If shells begin landing progressively closer, they are to move before the enemy finds the correct aim."

The aide nodded and continued writing.

"Is Senn still holding the tollhouse?" Ordan asked.

"He is, my lord."

"Keep his supply route open. We cannot afford to lose a position that is still doing its job because the men inside run out of ammunition."

Ordan handed the battlefield accounts to Hadrik.

"Compare these with whatever the dragons find. Once we have the guns’ locations, I want to know which of our batteries can reach them."

Hadrik gathered the papers and left to speak with the artillery staff.

At the western dragon encampment, an alliance officer hurried between the stone platforms carrying the search order from southwestern command.

Vaerith lifted his bronze head as the officer approached. One wing had been stretched toward the setting sun, but he folded it as he listened.

"How certain are they of the direction,little one?" the dragon asked.

"The lookouts place the firing beyond the ridge behind the customs house. Nobody has seen the battery itself,my lord."

"Have they seen Nightwings gathering?"

"The report does not mention any. General Ordan has warned that they may be waiting."

"Then have the lookouts watch the sky as well as the ground. I would appreciate knowing about an ambush before I fly into it."

The officer bowed and raised his communication crystal. Pale light spread across its surface as he contacted southwestern command.

"Lord Vaerith is preparing to leave the western encampment. Warn the forward posts to watch for Nightwings and report any movement immediately."

Vaerith waited beside the platform while the officer listened to the reply. After confirming that the message had reached the forward posts, the man lowered his crystal and looked up.

"The lookouts have been informed, Lord Vaerith. They will report any enemy formations entering the area."

"Then you had better step back."

The officer moved away as Vaerith rose to his full height. His claws scraped against the stone, and the plates along his shoulders shifted as he unfolded his wings. Their shadow stretched across the platform and over the soldiers working in the yard below.

Several men stopped to watch. Others hurried to secure loose papers and equipment as the dragon tested his wings with a slow, powerful stroke.

Wind swept through the yard. Banners snapped against their poles, dust rolled between the platforms, and the officer braced one hand against a pillar to keep his footing.

Vaerith lowered his body, drew his hind legs beneath him and lifted his tail clear of the platform. Then he pushed himself upward, driving his wings down as his claws left the stone.

The rush of air sent the officer’s cloak whipping around his legs. He shielded his face until the dust passed, then looked up.

Vaerith climbed above the encampment and turned in the direction he had been given, the last light of evening gleaming across his bronze scales.