LIGHTNOVELONLINE Chapter 10: Fortress Defense! The City’s Under Attack. Where Is My Deus Ex Machina?
They’re at the tavern when the bell starts sounding. Soril’s busy rounding up the soldiers that were still drinking with blissful unawareness. Things are already not looking good. Everyone’s drunk and stumbling around, some so disoriented that they’re tripping over their own legs. Soril too, hasn’t entirely recovered either. She’s seen him stagger a few times, holding his head, but whenever she asks about it, he insists he’s fine. He’s not. The drugs must still be in his system. But he’s desperately pushing himself.
Around them, the civilians are rudely shocked awake mid slumber and bombarded with hollers of,
“Attack. Attack! We’re under attack. Evacuate now!” and before long, hysteria ensues. Everyone’s in a panic frenzy, madly dashing forward in attempts to squeeze down the narrow streets, creating a stampede. Children and elderly are getting pushed onto the ground, trampled over in the disarray. Rushing forward like water through a narrow funnel. This isn’t good at all. The city may start collapsing from the inside before Estalis even attacks due to the sudden announcement of the news, but Soril doesn’t have time to loiter around. He’s hastily file lining forward, towards the gates. Collecting soldiers off inns, taverns and brothels as they march against the flow of the crowd.
Off to the side, she sees a child attempting to drag the arm of an unmoving woman lying face flat, footprints on her back, only to get knocked over by the passing traffic. She quickly rushes over to pull him up, hollering to Soril,
“I’ll catch up later, don’t worry about me.” but he doesn’t even hear her through all the noise rattling to the heavens. She lets him go. She needs to do something about this first before it gets even worse as more and more civilians are flooding in from other districts. The last thing she wants is for a crushing to happen and the road gets blocked up by people.
But what should she even do? People aren’t listening to her despite she’s yelling with the loudest voice she can muster to stop panicking and get in line. In fact, even she’s getting shoved left and right midst the commotion that she had to tuck herself into a corner as to not get sweep away. She’s frantically looking around for a solution. Checking every building in the surroundings. There’s a boutique, a restaurant, a winery, and... Theatre! That’s it, the theatre!
She rushes inside, hurriedly meandering around the benches to go backstage. Searching through the prop crates. Looking for anything that’s loud enough to attract attention. She unearths a trumpet, some flare crackers, and a bright red jester hat. Guess that’ll do. She rips her bonnet off and puts that on her head instead. Exiting out the building again. She ignites the flare crackers, waving it about and blowing her trumpet at the same time, she yells,
“Please evacuate in an orderly fashion. Do not push, if someone around you trips. Please help them up!” it’s not working. The people still aren’t listening. They’re too frightened to remain calm. Hazardously sprinting forward with all their might. Before her, more people are getting knocked down and stepped on. She braces into the crowd to assist a brunette lady that’s struggling to get up, guiding her to a side before diving into the stampede again. Repeatedly going back and forth to yank as many people off the ground as she possible can. Blowing her trumpet at the same time as she strains her voice, haplessly screaming the same message for the past ten minutes.
It’s starting to feel fruitless. Then she hears an echo, someone’s parroting her, blowing the trumpet in a marching beat,
“Do not push.” two trumpet sounds,
“Evacuate in an orderly fashion.” two trumpet sounds, repeats. It’s the first brunette lady that she helped up. She’s also wearing a jester hat now. A trumpet in one hand, waving a flare cracker with the other. The third is coming out of the theater in the same outfit, mimicking her. On the other side of the street, a few more civilians are noticing her efforts. Stopping to pull people up whilst chanting the same message. She recognizes some of them, it’s the same folks who assisted her to organize the children when she was giving out food. Two others are going into the theatre to retrieve the crate of trumpets and hats. Distributing it to all the impromptu supporters.
She resumes. Standing right in the middle of the traffic with her flare and trumpet. Directing the traffic around her. Collectively, they’re spurring more and more people to join in to assist. Now there’s a jester hat civilian spreading down the entire street. Trumpets and flares in hand. They’re creating enough of a unison noise to convey the message. The people are gradually slowing down. Civilians aren’t haphazardly shoving around anymore. Matching the pace of the marching beat. Fewer and fewer are getting pushed down. Those that are, are immediately helped up by jester hat supporters in the surroundings.
The brunette lady is now directing all the new volunteers to the other streets. Handing them a trumpet, flare gun and a hat to set them along. A tiny disaster relief organization has formed. In the distance behind her, the guards that were previously overwhelmed with residents trying to cram through the narrow back gates managed to sort things out too with the slower influx of people. Looks like they heard them too because they’re banging against their shields and repeating the message. Things should be fine now.
At that, she hastily returns the hat and flare, finally starts making her way towards the city gates an hour later.
After a few turns, the streets significantly quieten with deserted shop houses, packed to the brim with explosives. The commotion soon picks up again closer to the outskirts she gets. Here, the soldiers are relentlessly running back and forth. Delivering supplies from the armory. Wheeling in cannon balls in carts. In the forge, a large cauldron of tar is being heated up. More crates of dynamite are being transported around.
She reaches the metal city gates. It’s barred with a massive iron rod. Held in place by the garrison. Resisting what seems like a heavy plummeting force repeatedly striking against it. Arrows are sporadically raining down. A huge boulder just flew over her. Crashing a building a few houses away.
It’s not looking good here either. She climbs the wall from a laddered tower. A few soldiers are already falling off, shot by arrows. But it’s only when she reaches the top that she realizes, that was a complete understatement. It’s extremely dire.
Beneath her, the entirely mining route is covered by Estelis troops. The infantry is slamming against the gates with a giant battering ram. She spots Soril in the distance, he’s commanding the archers to snipe them in waves of rain. But the opponents are just blocking them with a shield barrier over their heads so the majority is getting deflected away. And the moment one Estelian soldier falls, another one quickly takes his place. More torches can be seen descending the mountain. They look to be in the thousands. No... tens of thousands.
Estalis is determined to take Kanra no matter what. Even with the protection of the fortress. They’re severely outnumbered. From what she’s seen, she estimates Kanra has only has a few hundred, at most a thousand men.
Soldiers are hastily rushing back and forth the wall-walk. Brushing past her shoulders. There’s a group that’s cranking supplies up on a crane. She’s making her way towards Soril when a boulder sweeps past right before her nose at incredible speeds. Smacking the few unsuspecting crane operators along with it. The force, instantly obliterates everything into bloodied pancakes when it smashes into a building as it lands. More boulders are relentlessly following. Chipping into the fortress walls and creeping cracks into the rocks like spider webs. The rumbling sends her wobbling. Seeking purchase against the rail so all the shaking doesn’t topple her over.
She looks towards the chaotic distance. The catapults. The catapults are a problem. It’s stationed in a semicircle behind the Estelian infantry. If they don’t get rid of it. The entire front wall may come crashing down first.
At that, she immediately changes goals. Searching for the heavy artillery. She finds a cannon on a bastion above her. Currently being manned by a soldier, but he’s missing all the shots trying to take them down. Hastily, she climbs towards it. Approaching him, she requests,
“Let me do it.” but he’s just brushing her off,
“This isn’t a game lady. Hurry up and evacuate.” dammit. Why doesn’t anyone take her seriously around here. She doesn’t have the patience to convince him. They just got hit by another boulder, and this one directly blasted through the already weakened fortress wall. Making a gigantic hole in the top left. Like a bite out of a bread slice. And more are just relentlessly coming in. So, with all her might, she shoves him aside as he’s aiming,
“Hey, lady what are you-” taking over, she closes an eye, repositions, then yanks at the trigger hard as she can. The cannon ball launches forward. The recoil flings her on her bum. Bullseye. It cracks right into a catapult’s neck as it’s still being lifted. Crumbling the structure to the ground.
“Holy shit. You’re fucking insane!” she scurries back to position,
“Help me load it up again.” he immediately abides afterwards. Lugging another metal ball towards her. She counts six catapults remaining on the opponent’s side. She’s going to take all of them out. The second one went down easily as the first. Then the third, fourth. The fifth collided directly with a return boulder. The two projectiles, exploding in the air, shattering the fragments like rain onto the soldiers beneath. Someone on the opponent’s side has figured out where she’s firing from, and the two remaining catapults are now rotated towards her.
Dammit. They need to reload quicker. There are two boulders inbound. She’s shot a boulder down. But the other one is flying straight towards them. Quick. Quick! The first soldier calls a friend, they’re helping her rearm the cannon together. They got it just in time. She fires the shot. Exploding the boulder into fragments just meters from where they’re at. So close, the shrapnel slices past her. With the next shot, she destroys the fifth catapult. Just one more. But a sword strike descending above her forces her to roll away.
The Estelian infantry are scaling the walls directly. One is charging towards her. She catches the strike with the only weapon she’s able to draw, the trumpet. It’s too flimsy. He’s denting it, threatening to knock her down. Another enemy is attempting to hack at her side. The cannon boys instantly come to her aid. Driving the assailants back. Stabbing them off the walls. But more are just relentlessly following up. Like hordes of zombies oozing from the gaps of the battlement. Now that Estelis's air superiority is compromised. They're planning to overwhelm them with sheer numbers next. The cannon won't reach that angle directly beneath them.
“The ladders!” she screams, “we need to get rid of the ladders!” but it’s blocked by swarming Estalis soldiers.
“Lady, move!” one cannon boy is hastily running towards her with a bucket of boiling tar. Emptying it over the edges. Spilling it all over the faces of the encroaching climbers, screaming in horrifying pain as their skins begins to bubble up, plummeting to the ground. She gets a clearing. At that, she kicks the handle hard as she can. Shoving it off the ledges. The moment she does, someone else grabs her ankle. Dragging her down with it. She’s frantically digging her nails into the ground to search any purchase she’s able to find. The cannon boy catches her wrist. But he’s instantly stabbed through the heart by another enemy behind him,
“No!” she screams. He collapses forward. They’re all falling. Around her, more ladders are being put up by the Estalian infantry, covering almost the entire wall surface. But before the thought can even register that she’s going to die, she’s again fished up into the air and reeled into safety by a wire. Sling over Soril’s shoulder. His movements are lugged. He’s still drugged to heavens, but despite so, he’s pushing through.
He’s rapidly sprinting towards a fire pit. Before her, the wall walk is over-run at this point. The Astian garrison, forced into close quarter combat on the narrow paths against a significantly larger force is getting completely inundated. He ignites it, the flames are blue. A horn immediately starts sounding. Another return signal is lit. Before all the beacons are rapidly illuminated with an ominous azure light. The Astian soldiers start retreating. Abandoning stations and descending the walls. Soril’s holding out the tower for them, filtering out all the enemies on pursuit whilst carrying her like a bag of rice.
Those that are holding the gate beneath them, begin sprinting towards the back of Kanra. The evacuating civilians are being abruptly halted back by the guards, prioritizing the escape route for the soldiers instead.
“What’s going on?”
“Retreating.” Soril says as he relentlessly cuts down the enemies before them,
“We’ll let the Estalian dogs flood in and blow them to smithers.” the dynamites she’s seen earlier. That’s why they were inside the city.
“You can’t do that. There are thousands of civilians in the city still.”
“We can’t defend this much longer.” He’s choosing to forsake Kanra!
“But the civilians won’t evacuate in time. They will die if you do this!”
“They’ll die at this rate too. But at least, this way, they won’t die for nothing. We’ll get something in return. This is the best option we have left after that shitty stunt Wascald pulled.” they simply didn’t have the time to warn the city about the encroaching attack and get everyone to safety. Nevertheless, Soril’s solution isn’t sitting right with her,
“If you do this, aren’t you exactly the same as Wascald?”
“This is a war, Lumeria. Your naivete can only take you so far. The devastation they’ll cause to us is far worse if we let them take Kanra.”
“Victory is meaningless if it must be bought with sacrifices! What are you even fighting for? To protect your citizens? Or do you just want to rake up kill counts, so you report back with a shiny number?” he’s swinging her out of the way of being hacked. The strike lands on his shoulder instead. Even as he’s admonishing her, as he’s bleeding out and staggering, he’s still trying his best to protect her and the withdrawing troops,
“Then what do you propose I do instead?” it completely silences her. His voice sounded so weak as he said that. It makes her realize; he’s wavering too. He doesn’t want to do this either, but he’s forced into the decision. She doesn’t have the right to lecture him. If only she had her powers right now. It’s so frustrating,
“Bathory, please!”
Don’t beg me for a Deus Ex Machina, useless angel. I’m already dead. I don’t have a flying shit left to give to this rotten world.
“People are going to die because of your selfishness! Stop being so stubborn!”
You’re the angel. You’re supposed to make the miracles. Not me.
She can’t retort anymore. She’s right. Bathory’s completely right. She’s supposed to be the one that brings the miracles, yet all she’s doing is watch people get cut down before her as she’s being protected. But, what can she do. What can she even do with her abilities right now? She’s frantically looking around.
Beneath them, the metal rod holding the gates shut is gradually being bent from the forceful ramming. The soldiers left alive on the walkway are desperately trudging the corpses of their dead comrades, cleaving through the enemies as they go, trying to get to the descend ladder in the tower that Soril’s securing. Even Soril looks in bad shape. Cuts in his uniform, bleeding out at various places whilst taking sharp rasps for air as he relentlessly slices through the never-ending hordes of enemies, tirelessly scaling up the walls.
In the distance, more and more Estalian infantry are emerging out of the foot of the mountain, surrounding the front of the city, stampeding forth from the steaming wetlands. A soldier on another cannon on a bastion is firing at them. Trying to slow them down any way he can. Crushing the enemies beneath the explosion. But akin dropping rocks on a swarm of frenzied ants, they’re going around it. Regrouping. Relentlessly charging forward.
It looks like a hopeless situation. Come on, Lumeria. Think! Think! What can she do? What if they start flinging the dynamites out to blow the Estelians up? No. They won’t make it in time to transport it up the walls now their cranes are compromised, and the Astian soldiers are attempting to leave posts. The wall-walk isn’t safe anymore for any coordinated attacks. What else, what else? It needs to be something she can do by herself. Something that doesn’t require a large team effort. She flicks her eyes forward.
Towards the mountains. Mountains, mountains. What about mountains? Mountains, enemies, steaming wetlands. Wetlands! Kanra’s seated near hydrothermal rocks. They’re at the foot of a volcano. Hot spring! That’s right! Hot springs! She bathed in one recently. She’s got it! There’s something she can attempt! Quickly, she wiggles out of Soril’s hold,
“Where are you going?” dropping herself to the ground, she makes a mad dash towards the bastion. Ducking and dodging through the incoming sword strikes as she goes,
“I’m going to create a miracle!” eying across the landscape. She’s looking for the fumaroles in the soil. They’ll be where the pine trees clear, surrounded by a patch of yellow dirt. She spots a few, scattering across the war-torn battleground. The Estalian troops were cautious to avoid them. Climbing up the ladder, she shoves the soldier aside,
“Pardon me.” and angles it towards the clearing. There’s a particularly big fumarole right amongst the enemy ranks. She yanks at the trigger. The cannon launches. The shot collides directly into the vent, stirring a huge dust cloud. Rattling the earth. But nothing happens.
“Please help me load it up again.”
“Lady, what are you doing? Leave!” the soldier’s trying to elbow her away from the station, dumping in another metal ball, but before he’s able to adjust it, she again, yanks the trigger at the same spot. It’s not enough. It’s not enough, she’s not creating enough of an impact to force the geysers to erupt. Then, they’re force to tumble away as the enemies frantically tries to hack at them. But they’re instantly sliced to pieces by whipping wires. Soril’s caught up with her now, leaping onto the tower, holding the assault line back. Before she’s able to clarify anything, he starts first, towards the cannon soldier,
“Help her.” then he addresses her,
“I’ll indulge you for one more minute. Afterwards, I’m taking you out of here whether you like it or not.” He must have figured out what she wants to do.
“Thank you for trusting me.” At that, she quickly gets back into position once the soldier finishes arming the weapon. Shot after shot, she relentlessly chips at the fumarole at point blank precision. Her ears, ringing at this point from the deafening blasts. It’s creating a massive crater in the distance. Still, the land will not budge. Beneath her, the incessant screeching of the gate echoes to the heavens. It won’t hold out much longer either.
“20 seconds left.” Soril sounds exhausted. His motions aren’t as fluid as they use to be. He’s practically staggering around like a corpse on a string. Driven forward by sheer will.
Come on. Fuck! Come on. Come on! And just when she thinks things won't get any worse. A bright spark of gold blinds her eyes. Something’s rapidly flying towards her. No someone. It’s that redhead that betrayed Soril. So, he was an Estelian infiltrator after all. He’s shot himself off the last remaining catapult like a fucking maniac and projectling towards her with his giant claymore, pulled over his shoulder, riled up smile on his lips,
“Sup. We meet again, clever little missy.” She quickly rolls out of the way as he lands with a resounding crash. Splitting even the pavement beneath him. And the next swing, he gets her cannon reloading helper that’s charging in to attack him. Halving him into two clean pieces and he’s rapidly encroaching on her,
“So, you’re the annoying little shit that’s taking down all our artilleries. What are you scheming now?” Soril instantly receives that attack, deflecting him off,
“5 seconds.” he tells her exchanging strikes to drive him back. She quickly crawls back to the cannon, one last shot. Her helper’s dead. If the geysers don’t erupt, then thousands of people are dying.
No... she’s looking at the massive crater that she’s already made. It’s puddling up with steaming sulfur water. There simply isn’t enough pressure to make it go off with a single cannon blast. It won’t erupt even if she launches this. Plus, the force of the cannon ball will get slowed by the pooling hot springs. There must be something else she can do. Something else she can blow up to create a greater impact,
“Time’s up.” she feels wires wrapping around her waist. Soril’s pulling at her with a hand, whilst parrying the redhead with his daggers on the other. Redhead’s comrades are beginning to pour in too from all angles. It’s here she spots the mines. It’s surrounding the geyser vents. The massive entrances are stabilized with planks. The interiors, hollowed out into darkness. The mines. Kanra’s a mining city. But, before she’s able to realign her aim. Soril’s tugging her backwards. She resists him, holding herself onto the canon so tightly, even that’s getting dragged with her,
“Just a moment more!”
“We’re leaving, Lumeria!”
Aim. Aim. Come on! She’s found her angle. Yanks. She gets tugged backwards. The cannon skews slightly right as she triggers. The shot is misaligned, but it still crashes through the sides of the wooden beams. Rupturing through it. Now the moment of truth.
Please. Please! God help her!
It’s still for a few moments. The support collapses. Then the mountain begins shaking. Gently at first, before the rumbling gets so violent it starts feeling like an earthquake. Tossing everyone on the wall-walk like a carnival ride gone haywire. A thunderous sound follows. Boulders at the bottom begin giving out first, collapsing to the ground in pieces before the entire front of the mountain starts caving in. It’s already weakened because it’s been constantly dug out.
The deafening noise is alerting the Estalian soldiers below to look over their shoulders, but they couldn’t react in time before a landslide from above starts sweeping down like a flooding river. A horn sounds on the other side. It’s sending the ones that have yet being caught in the impact to retreat to the sidelines. But the battlefield starts creaking. Fissures, rupturing through the lands like a snake, tripping the escaping soldiers over. The impact that she needs to stir the fumaroles has been created. One geyser goes off right in the middle. Spewing boiling hot water and scalding gas into the air. Fountaining into the heavens with burning rain. Consuming everyone in its path. It’s creating a chain effect, now all the fumaroles are erupting one after another.
Frantic retreat horns are sounding on the opposite side. The enemy line falls into chaos. Scattering in all directions to escape into the circling forests. The ladders perched against the walls start toppling with no one to hold it up. Taking the ceaseless climbers to the ground. Excitedly, she turns her head to a side to declare,
“I did it, So-” but she can’t finish the sentence. She took too long. Despite Soril cleared out all of redhead’s comrades. He couldn’t best the redhead in his drug induced state. He’s being stabbed. Right through the gut. The drenched weapon protruding out of his spine. Blood choking out of his lips as he struggles to keep himself up on his feet, tightly gripping onto the dull end for purchase. With one hard tug, the redhead retrieves his weapon, swinging it over his shoulders, looking to behead Soril entirely.
“No!” The sheer devastation surges her to wheel the cannon forward with all her body weight she can muster. Running straight into the redhead to collide him backwards before he even registers her intrusion with a startled,
“You-” Tipping him off the wall with it. Turning around, she immediately catches Soril as he collapses,
“Soril!” he’s still breathing. Laboriously and raspy. The consciousness in his eyes is smudging out. Blood, relentlessly gushing out of the nasty wound. He can’t speak, she’s pressing down against it,
“No, no, no, no!” Her tears are welling up,
“Don’t die. Please. Don’t die!” The Astian soldiers are returning now with the turn of tides. Desperately, she cries,
“Someone, help! Please!”