On the next evening, Arakiel watched the sun go down while the town of Irialswell began to light up with fires in so many different spots, most notably the squares where lots of people had already gathered around bonfires. Further back, the district closest to the duke’s keep lit up even brighter since just about every house had lots of little fires while there seemed to be one or two larger ones, but they were basically impossible to pinpoint from here.
He and his agents for the upcoming mission had convened in the same patch of forest as yesterday. 19 people had gathered here, most notably the jinnum siblings, Ezekiel, Basam and the wise Astral Thaumaturge Shahar Aymin with his wives Asha and Atiya. Several other members of the elite infantry banners had also volunteered to participate in the glory of taking control of the town’s gatehouse in order to open the gate for the Smokeless Host sometime after dark. In fact, far too many warriors had volunteered and in the end, Basam and Aisha had vetted the people on their skills, which left them with 20 people in total.
Despite the importance of the upcoming situation, the warriors were fairly relaxed and had played some casual games or joked around for the past hours, but now that it was time to get serious, they did fall quiet to await Arakiel’s orders and he was about to give them.
There were far fewer lanterns and torches patrolling the walls than yesterday as far as he could tell.
He squeezed Aurora’s hand and briefly let his gaze wander across the darkness of the night. The sky was clear and there were so very few stars shining tonight. Furthermore, the moon had almost fully vanished, leaving them with fairly good conditions.
The air was a bit chilly, but it was most refreshing.
The road leading towards Irialswell was cobbled and would be easy to traverse.
He noted that the time seemed almost right. Baram and Akili agreed while Shahar Aymin proposed to wait about fifteen more minutes to let the festivities commence just a little further.
When Arakiel asked him why, the Thaumaturge replied that the people of Irialswell had begun to take cuts from the roasted oxen, which meant that more alcohol would soon follow.
Not finding any flaw with this reasoning, Arakiel agreed and after about ten minutes, he gave the order to head out.
Aurora stayed close to him as she had insisted on coming along and he saw no reason not to. Her skills would come in clutch if he found himself in a desperate situation. A bit of lifespan was nothing compared to the ability to quite literally double one’s speed for short bursts.
His little sister, which had taken his other hand since it was really, really dark, had come along as well, not wanting to remain behind in a camp full of strangers, which was also fine. Her enchantment could also prove crucial in the upcoming battles.
Meanwhile, Ezekiel had actually requested to stay behind as he needed to clarify a few things with Selene and although Arakiel wasn’t too happy about his right hand missing in such a crucial action, he also didn’t want to pressure him.
Still, he felt much less safe without the other Mortal Ascendant nearby. To him, Ezekiel was still the one he trusted the most to watch his back on this plane.
Arakiel knew that the other warriors were there around him, but he still couldn’t make them out very well. All of them had donned hooded black cloaks – even Aurora had been given a second one to cover her white wings – and in this starless, moonless night, the cloaks just melded into the darkness.
He could only hear the footsteps and the occasional clank from one of the other men’s armor, although the agents had opted for relatively light to medium gear that did not produce a lot of noise. If possible, they wanted to open the gates with as little ruckus as possible although it seemed unlikely.
Someone was bound to notice and while they had no specifics, there were still quite a few trained guardsmen and mages in Irialswell. At least, that’s what the reports suggested for now.
Under the cover of night, Arakiel and his squad approached the high walls of the duchy’s capital and unlike his first estimation, they might even be higher than six meters.
Once they came close, they also found out that the moat around the town was indeed filled with water from the rivers, but it wasn’t that big a deal as the bridge leading to the gate was still down by the time they arrived.
Unfortunately, someone on the walls noticed this, loudly cursing some name after which he gave the command to rectify this mistake and while most of the agents managed to get close to the wall, some had to stay behind even if Arakiel couldn’t exactly tell who it was.
Both Mellia and Aurora were with him and to the side, he saw the jinnum siblings alongside the Thaumaturge and his wives. Basam was probably there as well, but it was just so damn dark.
For quite a while, none made but a peep and when they heard a pair of guards walking away above, joking about some person having been too drunk to notice that he had left the bridge down, Arakiel took on Aurora’s aspect which was the sign for the agents to ready for battle.
Soft murmurs and a few lights appeared all around him while he began to apply a layer of five different buffs – two air, two fire and one astral – onto himself. Meanwhile, Mellia enchanted him with a nature and her crosspath enchantment while Aurora applied an astral shield onto him. They used up two of their six dawnshards in the process, but it was fine.
He briefly lit up in mostly gold and some faint trace of green-silver-white while around him, Aisha began to burn in extremely yellow flames that held only the faintest trace of orange. Her akh blood seemed to be quite pure, even purer than Zari Amar’s. Her brother had no self buffs, but the warrior next to him was a Double Earth Enchanter and he was the man responsible for giving all of the agents a second skin of iron, starting with Akili. That’s all the man had to do, he wouldn’t participate in the fighting.
With the first rounds of buffs active, Arakiel dropped his seraphim’s aspect and pulled out one of the grappling hooks that he flung onto the walls. Some of the agents that had finished follow him.
The time to pave the invasion of Irialswell had started right now.
He quietly reminded Mellia and Aurora to wait a while; he’d pull them up just a few moments later.
Then, he and several others whose hooks had also ever so briefly disturbed the silence out here, began to climb onto the battlements and as soon as they had reached the wall, they crouched and looked around.
With some light and low noise coming from the town, he could make out four others having made it into the city and so far, no enemy had noticed their entry or at least they hadn’t raised awareness.
The pair of guards that had talked earlier was quite far away at this point while on the other side, a lone torch holder illuminated a heavy oaken door that led into the gatehouse which, according to the small gap in the wall at the side, was still occupied or someone had at least lit a source of light inside it.
Arakiel signaled towards the others that the coast was clear on his side, which the person that was farthest away from echoed.
Then, four of the five began to assist those who were still down below with ascending the walls as quickly as possible while Aisha guarded them.
He got to pull up Aurora and Mellia, right after which he suddenly heard a surprised noise from the side and when he turned his gaze, he saw a wide-eyed guardsman standing in the gatehouse’s doorframe.
Arakiel cursed internally but before he could act, an arrow hit in the guard’s neck and he fell over with a wheeze, his wind pipe having been pierced.
Looking across his shoulder, he saw Aisha whose eyes and hands were burning with a low yellow-orange flame underneath her black cloth. She held a composite bow in reverse, having lost loosened the arrow. Faint yellowish winds also circulated around her arms.
So she was an archer as well? He should’ve expected it, given her fire-air ancestry.
The jinnum paid him no mind and hurried over towards the dead man with air-boosted steps and Arakiel, after having pulled up Aurora and Mellia, followed her alongside two more black-clad agents that he didn’t recognize while the others tried to get everyone else onto the walls.
He joined Aisha in a relatively small wooden room which had another door leading further into the gatehouse. Two sets of tight wooden stairs led up and down. He heard low chuckles from upstairs, followed by someone slamming something onto what might be a table.
Arakiel quietly motioned upstairs while also indicating Mellia and Aurora remain outside for now. Right in that moment, he felt a hand touching him and when he turned, he saw the Earth Enchanter giving him a small and decisive nod.
Arakiel drew his own scimitar and led the way as he was the only person who made no sound whatsoever. Aisha’s gear was light, but one could still hear her footsteps, albeit barely.
Up two sets of stairs and he saw another small room not unlike the one down below, only that there were two men sitting at a table, playing cards. Two tankards of ale rounded out their little shift. It smelled of beer in here. The two looked relaxed, thoroughly ignorant and their weapons leaned in another corner entirely.
Arakiel pointed towards the left man while forcing all of Aurora’s fire towards his legs as he charged the right soldier and before either could react, he redirected the fire to his arms, which wasn’t instant, but he still managed to decapitate the man while Aisha’s arrow struck true again.
Both guards died without making any noise.
He looked around and saw another door leading further into the room while another set of stairs led to a third level. Unlike the previous two, there was no light up there and he heard no voices, so he opted for the door on this level.
It led into a fairly high, dark rectangular room that was more or less empty. It would house the portcullis when it was raised, which it was currently not. There was also no winch, which had to be down a level.
He signaled the area to be clear and then hurried down alongside Aisha.
Down here, the agents had begun to gather while the Earth Enchanter carried out his task most dutifully.
Aisha signaled two with her fingers and then cut across her throat, after which she pointed to the door leading towards the hall that should have the portcullis’ winch. It, alongside the double gate, had to be raised and opened to allow unrestricted entry into the settlement.
Meanwhile, Shahar Aymin used one of the windows up front to signal the army to get moving as they’d need some time to get here while one of his wives had begun to apply a special kind of enchantment to all the mages, one that supposedly covered one’s skin in a sort of watery membrane that would dampen impact hits, yet it did that by drawing upon the muscles. It made one more susceptible to lightning magic, but the Middles were mostly using water, earth and nature. Furthermore, it left one less physically capable than before; not that Evokers, Thaumaturges or Enchanters cared about their physical strength.
Aisha and Arakiel stormed the sparsely lit connection that indeed held the portcullis’ means of hoisting and in the next room, they found two more soldiers that manage to raise their voice before they died, which in turn caused some people from above to call out whether everything was right, although they did so with a tone that betrayed their intoxicated stats.
Arakiel, Aisha and another agent stormed upstairs and killed the soldiers who hadn’t expected people to suddenly charge in and kill them and a little later, the vanguard of the Smokeless Host had secured the entire gatehouse, having gained access to the portcullis and the town’s bridge.
It was as clean an operation as he could’ve hoped for and it was all thanks to alcohol and negligence, but he had no illusions that it’d remain like this.
Some of the fighters hurried outside and then looked for a proper way downstairs as one couldn’t reach the gate downstairs from here unless one was willing to jump several meters into the dark, which no one was.
At the same time, it was their duty to ensure that any guardsmen that came here were properly welcomed.
It happened twice and both times, the men only realized that they were dead when life left them.
Meanwhile, the harvest festival over in the city was in full swing, with cheers, music and singing that could be heard even here. In a way, it was no wonder that the guards had been so negligent for they undoubtedly felt left out.
Nonetheless, Arakiel was ever so briefly reminded of Boundary, but he quickly dismissed it. It would be different today. There would be many dead, but it would not be a one-sided massacre. His Smokeless Host was disciplined and although anger and vengeance burned in their hearts, they had been given clear rules and orders.
He looked outside into the dark and found no traces of his army, but he knew it was there, approaching.
And then, he suddenly felt someone reaching for his hand and when he looked around, he saw his seraphim staring him in the eyes, giving him a smile. Even here, in the midst of an operation, she looked like innocence incarnate.
“It will be fine, my beloved Lord. Tonight, you will make the second step,” she whispered reassuringly, her voice music in his ears.
“If you say it, then it must be true, my aurea.” He returned and lightly lifted her chin. It was a shame he couldn’t see her collar, so he pulled up her hood and opted for a simple kiss instead.
Next to him, Mellia cleared his throat, noting in a quiet voice. “Be wary, o brother mine. This task is far from over.”
He gave her a smile which she might or might not see, given that for a change, he also wore a hooded cloak.
“Lord Executor,” a new, respectful voice joined in. It was the Thaumaturge Shahar and his two wives. “I suggest we get started.”
“So be it,” Arakiel agreed and the two headed over into the hall that connected both of the gatehouse’s towers. Each one picked one of the two winches and then they began to turn it, causing the heavy iron chains to set into motion.
Even with Aurora’s fire inside him, it was grueling work and judging by Shahar’s groans, the middle-aged Thaumaturge was quite strained as well. Akili, Aisha and another soldier guarded them.
Down below, they heard the other group led by most likely Basam working to open wide the city gates, which seemed to have its own share of difficulties.
Any moment now. So far, they were in the clear despite the noise that they created.
Turn after turn, he raised the portcullis and with it, the way for his army to enter.
It was rather noisy, the heavy iron doing its utmost to warn the citizens.
Just a little more.
Down below, he suddenly heard people shouting in some distance, asking what they were doing at the gates.
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And then, the clash of steel, followed by the rending of flesh.
Someone had died.
Another cried out, but his voice died abruptly.
Nonetheless, someone else echoed it.
The winch locked in place; The portcullis had been open.
Right afterwards, someone shouted alarm and although it became fainter, another repeated it.
They had been found out.
Arakiel felt ready for the storm that was undoubtedly approaching fast now. He and his agents only needed to hold these two positions for a brief moment.
Unsheathing the scimitar once again, he slowly walked towards the back of the room, the one that opened into the city proper. Even from here, one could smell the roasted oxen, the grease and the alcohol.
There, much further down the main street, people were still dancing and singing and feasting – not for much longer, he assumed.
“Everyone, get ready!” He shouted the order and then hurried to the side and in a good distance, he saw a bonfire ignite on one of the few towers which were strewn out across the walls. Another followed and then so forth.
Behind him, he heard Aisha shout out of the city with a strongly-boosted voice. “Drop the shadow!”
Arakiel hurried to the gatehouse’s front and looked out into the dark, where torch after torch was lit, revealing a marching host of hundreds upon hundreds of his warriors.
Somewhere behind him, a loud bell began to resound and with it, the silence of night was well and truly over.
The defenders of Irialswell rallied surprisingly quickly despite the harvest festival being in full swing. The first wave of well-armored soldiers headed their way roughly five minutes after the first warning fire had been lit.
A second round of buffs had just gone out when Akili asked Arakiel to follow him while the Enchanters sought shelter one level below. It was built into the tower and had been used as a storage room for ammunition and the like.
Aurora, of course, followed Arakiel and he wouldn’t have it any other way, but Mellia had agreed that she’d only get in the way.
He disliked putting her in danger given her importance to his House, but on the other hand, he didn’t want to deny her her wish of accompanying him. He was the only person she could really trust in this plane, after all.
Upstairs, the male jinnum took his elaborate staff from his back and planted it firmly onto the stone ground, after which its fist-sized ruby began to burn in an incredibly orange flame that held only faint tinges of yellow. It looked almost like a reverse of Aisha’s flame.
The Evoker held out his hand and began to draw flame from his staff’s top, fire that he then condensed as he shaped it into an orb with an appropriate gesture. The more orange fire he drew from his staff, the smaller and more compact the orb seemed to get. Akili’s ruby-red eyes glistened with malice as he looked over towards Arakiel while casually snapping his fingers. The snap caused the tiny orange orb to shoot straight at the first group of approaching soldiers down below.
It hit just moments later, causing a disproportionately loud noise to resound as a part of the wall exploded in orange fire while several Middles were blasted away, scattered over the wall’s edges or into the slums that lay directly below.
“Leave this side to us,” the jinnum chuckled darkly as his left hand began to draw more fire which was all Arakiel needed to know.
One level below, Aisha had begun to greet the approaching soldiers with arrows, although the first enemy archers had just loosened their own salvo in return.
Arakiel grabbed Aurora, who had briefly flinched from the sudden explosion, by the hand and pulled her along over towards the gatehouse’s other side, where Shahar and one of his wives were already battling a group of archers. She lost both her black cloaks because of the rather narrow stairs, but there was no further need to meld with the shadows.
On this side of the battlefield, Asha – at least Arakiel thought that it was Asha – leaned against one side, occasionally peeking out while her hands briefly began to glow in a soft blue light, but whatever she was casting had no visual effect and didn’t cause cries of pain or anguish.
It was the same with Shahar, who also occasionally peeked out after another salvo of arrows came in. He then threw some kind of spell that had him briefly touch his forehead before he seemingly pointed at someone. In that brief time between, his hands glowed in a faint white-silver light.
Both were Thaumaturges, mages of the mind – so it made sense.
An arrow struck Shahar right as Arakiel arrived, but while it pierced his robe, it bounced off of his twice-enchanted skin of water and iron.
The mage, noticing him, shouted with some annoyance. “Hold the door! The fools who were supposed to got held up earlier by a bridge of all things!”
Arakiel nodded as he reached for a third dawnshard. He tapped the white and then drew the spawning sigil into himself, covering himself in protective winds that banished his muffled enchantment.
Then, he hurried right towards the frame where an enemy soldier clad in mail and bits of plate was just about to enter.
The Middle wore a triangular, reinforced heater shield of wood and a metallic straight sword and right as Arakiel charged him, Shahar called out. “Neck, left side!”
Following the mage’s instruction, Arakiel slashed at the soldier’s neck from the left and the Middle initially turned to raise his shield, but then he suddenly recoiled while his face turned to grimace of pain.
Had he worn a helmet instead of a mail coif, he might’ve survived – but this brief lapse undoubtedly caused by Shahar’s thaumaturgy ended up being enough of an opening for Arakiel to slash the man’s throat.
The soldier’s eyes widened in disbelief as Arakiel kicked his body back with as much force as his fire-strengthened legs would allow, which was quite a bit given the man’s weight.
Several arrows greeted him as soon as he positioned himself in the entrance, yet his winds sightly redirected them. One arrow that had been intended for his own coif made of thick cloth, as he hadn’t brought a helmet, but it ended up being redirected towards his shoulder, where it bounced off of his doublet’s plating.
The others were fully redirected next to and away from him.
He didn’t even see the archers which likely hid in the dark, but he saw quite a few angry Middle soldiers that were heading towards him, foregoing their slow-and-steady-approach with shields after someone called out thaumaturgy.
Arakiel drew on the red of his shard and as soon as the golden sigil with the heavy red tinge formed close to his free hand, he grabbed and flung it, causing several small orbs of golden fire to spring forth and towards his opponents who realized too late that they should’ve raised their shields.
And while this sigil once again cost him an entire shard’s red, the four little balls of fire set three Middle soldiers aflame while the forth missed.
Someone called to retreat and wait for additional support while another, louder voice ordered to charge as the enemy were just some puny mages.
Arakiel, uncaring for the enemy’s antics, drew on the shard’s gold and right as another Middle made his way past one of the panicking living torches of golden fire, he unleashed the thoroughly golden sigil. A dazzlingly bright ray of golden light erupted right into the opponent’s face.
At the same time, he went in for the kill.
A panicked scream resounded from the soldier, one that made him twist his weapon in the last moment. He hit the female soldier with the dull side of his scimitar which staggered, but didn’t kill her. Arakiel then went in for a flame-enhanced punch to her abdomen.
The young woman in mail armor collapsed, her eyes rolling up. For some reason, he had softened her fall by briefly stopping her with his free hand.
A Middle cried out right next to him and as Arakiel looked up, he saw a sword already coming his way and his earlier action had left him in a spot where he wouldn’t be able to meet the blade.
It didn’t stop him from trying to raise his scimitar to deflect, but he wouldn’t make it in time.
He briefly wondered why but when the young soldier’s face suddenly grimaced in pain, Arakiel regained focus and used the opening that one of his Thaumaturges had created to kill the man.
Two more enemies followed, charging him past their burning or injured, fallen comrades.
He met the first attacker’s charge head on, searching and then deflecting his overhead strike and while some sort of mental attack caused his focus to lapse, Arakiel brought his scimitar to bear, chopping off the man’s shield arm.
The second attacker had become much slower and sluggish for some reason, easily allowing Arakiel to meet his blade, then bind and guide it so that he outmaneuver the notably confused warrior as he drew his dagger from the sheath, burying it into the guy’s neck.
“Come back!” He then heard a male voice call out behind him and when he looked around, he noticed that he had indeed gone too far away from the gatehouse, which was foolish.
Slightly inside, he saw Aurora ablaze in golden fire, her eyes solely focused onto him. Her hands were clasped in prayer and just as he turned around in full, he saw her eyes opening wide and as though he knew, he suddenly let himself fall into a crouch as he slashed behind him.
Another, different female voice, a very young one, cried out in pain.
In front of him, he saw another Middle soldier, her young face a grimace of terrified pain as she held the hand that should’ve wielded her sword to her left thigh which Arakiel’s scimitar had buried deep into, drawing quite a bit of blood.
Still, the mailcoat had kept his blade from severing her leg.
He briefly thought about somehow knocking her unconscious which, again, disturbed his focused state of mind.
And when the girl then begged for mercy under tears, he found himself unable to strike again.
In a split-second decision, he dislodged the blade, causing the likely-fresh-recruit that couldn’t have been with the army for long to cry out bitterly. Arakiel then reached for her and while he pulled her over, he turned the body around to get a proper grip around her neck.
“Come any closer or she dies!” Arakiel warned out loud as he dragged his crying hostage back to the gatehouse and for a brief moment, none of the Middle soldiers on the wall approached.
Someone called to charge, while another called out a female name which in turn brought about about the order to cease, followed by many curses, most of which were aimed at him for being a dishonorable coward. A foolish statement, for these people here were incapable of afflicting his honor.
He was Kalanite, they were some lowly dregs on a minor plane.
Yet their vain attempts at mockery left him enough time to easily bring his barely-struggling hostage back as she had more or less become a limp bundle in his grip.
“Good thinking!” Asha commented while Shahar immediately reached for the prisoner’s forehead, his hand aglow in silver-white.
“What’re you doing?” Arakiel inquired while his eyes kept scanning the area in front of him.
The lighting wasn’t the best as the living torches had either jumped off of the wall, into the moat or someplace else, but from what little he could make out, there were quite a few bodies that had begun to pile up. Blood soaked the mortar and quite a few of the bodies lying there weren’t dead, just reeling from thaumaturgy or their injuries.
Shahar more or less instantly retracted his hand, noting. “No need to influence her. Genuine fear will hit the most.”
“Look,” Asha commented with a disgusting mock. “Even wet her panties in terror! Pathetic!”
“Dear, you wet your panties for much less,” Shahar noted dryly.
“You didn’t just say that!” His wife returned in what might be outrage but then the two began to chuckle, forming an odd contrast to the crying and trembling hostage in Arakiel’s hand.
“Stop that,” Aurora admonished in an unusually sharp tone from behind and he saw a delicate hand aglow in golden fire reach for the crying girl. “It is unseemly to kick a girl when she’s down.”
“Be quiet everyone!” Arakiel ordered as he tried to make out what the Middles were talking about.
Meanwhile, the trembling captive in his arms kept mumbling about mercy over and over, terror having fully gripped her.
It left him surprisingly calm, because her fate rested now in his hands, and he had no intention of letting her die. As a surviving enemy combatant, the girl was destined to end on the auction stage, but she would live on.
He didn’t know why, but he suddenly held out his hand as a means to shield the girl. Whether it was due to a kind of sixth sense or because of the little glint he thought he had spotted over there in the dark, he couldn’t say.
A sharp, intense pain followed as an arrow pierced through his gloved fist, going all the way through. The barbed projectile stopped just moments shy of the girl’s throat.
The scimitar fell onto the ground, his hand having lost its grip.
Aurora cried out and he immediately tossed the hostage to the side while drawing in lots of air through his gnashed teeth. It hurt, a lot.
The arrow had been potent enough to go through his air shield and his ironskin – it had packed quite a punch.
Arakiel assured everyone he was fine and then motioned for Shahar to close and bar the door while he guided most of Aurora’s fire towards his uninjured hand with which he then broke off the arrow’s tip.
The projectile had been fletched, so he could only pull the rest of the shaft out now, which worked, but the pain made him grind his teeth so much he thought he’d damage them.
He ripped off the glove and saw a sizable piercing wound right in the middle of his hand. There was no way he could grip anything until Mellia’s healing kicked in.
“Allow me,” Aurora began but he waved her off, responding.
“Save your fire for later, this is far from over and Mellia’s healing will come soon. Take care of that girl, though. They just tried to kill her.”
Aurora affirmed and then began to soothe the crying soldier with hushed words, even going so far as to snatch one of Arakiel’s shards from his belt.
He barely took note of it as he had a lot of pain to deal with, much more than he was used to – so much more.
Damn, it hurt so much.
He did hear the soldiers approaching from outside and given the situation, Shahar and Asha took the rather sizable heavy crossbeam and heaved it into the metallic slots, effectively preventing the door from being kicked in easily.
The two Thaumaturges then swapped over to the small window that also allowed them a glimpse onto the wall and from there, they began to sling their spells until another arrow struck Shahar in his shoulder. It had so much force that it nearly tripped him at which point it became very clear that the enemy had at least one competent Air Alterator-Enchanter.
While Arakiel still hoped for the next pulse of Mellia’s enchantment, he massaged his injured hand as a means to stop it from cramping. At the same time, the soldiers outside began to kick and strike against the heaven oaken door to no immediate effect.
It’d take a bit of time for them to strike it down, but this was more or less their last line of defense. The other door leading into the connector was a cheap board of wood that could easily be destroyed.
“How long until they’re here?” Shahar asked towards his wife that had hurried over to him. His voice held pain and he hinted over towards the window that led out of the town.
Arakiel forced himself to stand up and walked over there right as he heard wood splintering and someone else calling to bring more axes.
Outside, he saw his army being very close. In fact, the first were about to cross the bridge while he heard an explosion from the other side and calls for backup from down below and from Aisha at the other side of the gatehouse.
The fact that some of their agents had been unable to infiltrate the city had left the this particular defense rather sparse, but it was much easier to hold than the gate down below.
Arakiel looked towards the oaken door with some worry as more wood splintered and the Middles kept encouraging their axemen to work faster and to get more axes in general.
Another arrow entered through the little window and although it slightly turned after entering the room, it ended up bouncing off of a stone wall. Still, it confirmed that the enemy was both Alterator and Enchanter – the deadliest kind of archer.
He then noticed his dropped weapon and hurried over, picking it up with his wrong hand after which he dragged the crying, unmoving prisoner further back so she wouldn’t be in the way and while he did, Mellia’s enchantment finally sent the pulse and with it, he felt the pain and the wound in his hand lessen to the point where it still hurt, but enough for him to put on his glove once more.
Then, he lightly gripped his scimitar and headed over towards the oaken door which wouldn’t last much longer since the soldiers outside had quickly found their rhythm.
Given that no backup had arrived yet, he could only assume that they still needed more time and he certainly felt the absence of Ezekiel right now.
The jinnum siblings could probably hold their side, but a Water and an Astral Thaumaturge weren’t exactly the best combat mages around, with water in general being a terrible path in his humble opinion.
In the end, though, he would need to hold this door with their help.
Aurora had assisted Shahar in the meantime. His two layers of enchantments had dampened most of the impact and he announced that he was ready, as did his wife.
Down below, he heard his army storming into the city, but it’d be a while before they reached them and if the Middles retook the gatehouse now, it’d be extremely bad.
It was up to him to prevent that.
Arakiel put a confident smile on his face as he tapped one of Aurora’s shards, drawing in all of its red.
As soon as the first axes broke through, he willed the sigil to life and dashed forward, catching the floating rune mid-movement, dragging it along.
With a slight chuckle, he slammed it into one of the openings that the Middles had created.