The headache was beginning to clear. I'll be able to heal myself, but the same can't be said about anyone else here. At least I didn't lose any fingers. I hop up on top of the walls and then scramble up the nearest spike. The army had already begun to push their way past the earthen spikes with ladders like ants swarming over mounds of dirt. The defenses and traps I had set up beforehand have proved useless. If I had known the overwhelming power that the apostle has at his disposal, I wouldn't have even bothered with those and instead worked more on shoring up our defensive position.
The din of combat echoes behind me, as the small contingent of infantry I had sent to intercept the Rabbit who had made it into the town to chase the archers make contact. Since the fog had dissipated, it seems that the mounted Efrans were ordered to head back so that the apostle's more intense spells didn't dismount, or kill them, I assume. The reverberations from them sent shockwaves across the sky. Nyt was doing her part, now I should do mine. I could live with the pain, but not with the mangled hand, so I healed that first before I point downward into the gap between the earthen spike wall and begin my assault.
"A volley, o djinn."
Six arrows of flame and wind slammed into the group. A few of them raised their shields, and the arrows scattered fruitlessly on them. They were at the walls now — ladders hoisted over their heads, and axes chopping at the wooden walls.
"I allow the blood of the salamanders to flow through me."
Heaps of red hot ash pour out of my wand and down onto the Efrans below. They scream and writhe in pain as the ash burns and sears their skin. The pouring ash causes the group there to temporarily retreat. I use that time to hop down onto the ground in the small space between the front line and the wall. A semi-circle of earthen spikes erupts from the ground in front of me, impaling and pushing back the forces a little bit.
"Bombard my enemies, O' thou servants of Gob, the magnomious."
I send the stream of earth mana up the side of the larger spike that I had made as a second layer of walls. Halfway up the spike, a burst of wind mana cuts off the spell, and a burst of air broke free from the packed earth. Quickly after that, a spike of molten earth jutted out of the earth and slammed into my side. My Repel shattered, and I feel the searing point scorch my flesh as the point pushed against the scale jerkin. I feel one of my ribs snap as the force pushes me off my feet temporarily. How was he sending his mana so fast this way? Was there another mage, or did he have that good of control over his own mana?
I feel a rush of earth mana at my feet as soon as I land back on the ground, and out of desperate instinct, I send a wave of wind mana out of my soles. The ground broke apart right underneath my right foot, and a burst of wind tickled my soles. The Efrans press in, and I clamor up the wall. A blade cuts a wide gash across my left arm, and a pike stabs me through the back of my thigh as I pull myself back up to safety. Dumb move, Lawrence. Why did you hop down there? You're smarter than that.
Blood oozes out of the back of my leg. Do I heal it? No. It's nothing fatal. I have to conserve my spells. Some Efrans pull themselves up over the walls, and I roll over onto my back and point my wand forward.
"You that bind the all, move for me."
The first Efran; an armored ratman, pulls himself up onto the wall. The invisible ball of coalesced aether slammed into its chest. The creature yelped as it fell backward back down the wall. Replace soon with the next; a dogman, then the next, and the next. Before I could utter a spell, one of them grabs hold of my wrist and wrestles with me for control of my wand, while the other two approach me with their weapons drawn on me.
"LOOSE." The sergeant's voice calls out.
I guess the melee had ended.
Arrows whistle from our side of the wall, and arc over the walls, as the first rank of human archers let their arrows loose.
More follow as the entire Rebel Efran force loose theirs. One of the approaching dogmen staggers backward as a well-placed arrow struck it in the eye. The other ducked and put its arms over its head. I place my foot on the stomach of the dogman grappling with me.
"Oh, you ruler of Olympus, lend thy power for my steps."
The dogman is flung off of me and into the air, and I push myself up — my hip aching at the recoil. Arrows pierced the arms of the other dogman still shielding its face. I land a solid kick into its face and send it back off the walls.
Ladders are brought forward through the rain of arrows to be set up so that more could climb the walls without the struggle of having to scramble the 30 or so feet up. Do I retreat down the stairs into the town and hold them there? I glance over to Nyt. Even from this distance, I could see the exhaustion creasing on her face; the slight winces as she counters another spell. If we were to live, we'd have to kill the apostle. I know that, but if I even step foot off the walls, I'd be skewered. No, the best choice was to wait. Stick to the plan, Lawrence. Trust yourself. Once the others come, we'll gang up on him. The six of us.
A squad of about forty Efrans had managed to take to the walls. A few were beginning to drop down to the ground to attack the archers. The infantry rushes to intercept, and the two sides clash. Some of the Efrans turn to throw their spears down at the human and rebel Efrans standing shoulder to shoulder, but the archers let loose once more, turning those who had lowered their shields to do just that into swaying pin cushions. A few of them fall down from the edge of the walls and crush their comrades being held at bay below while the rest approach me warily.