The Accidental Archmage, Edmund Batara [read after TXT] 📗

location.

The bright reddish hue of the spheres will be lighted signs leading to this part of the

trench. And then they’ll all come rushing to the attack. Rushing? That gives me an idea.

He laid down rectangular shapes in front of their position. A hundred feet away, with a

frontage of what he approximated at fifty feet. Working quickly, he laid them down at

intervals of ten feet. Then he laid down another line two hundred feet away.

Determining his next position, he then did the same layout. Then again for a third

position. Three tries were all he thought he could hope for before a sea of enemies

start moving against them. He was sure more will be coming from the forward

encampments. Then run as fast as they could to their stream boundary. Once inside, he

hoped to do the burning attack which proved to be successful. Despite the lack of trees,

he expected the fog to befuddle them while pursuing.

He informed the two about what was going to happen or what he expected to happen.

The two kept close, keeping a distance of around ten to twelve feet from him. He knew

the space between them will constrict as they follow their plan. Habrok was again to

lead the withdrawal. Then they crouched back to the original position. Tyler first intended to lob ordinary fireballs in a tight formation but as many as he could

comfortably manage. Once the proper range was determined, then he could launch

successive fireball waves with stronger explosive levels. Until the enemy host detects

them and rush their position.

Dear God, I’m scared right now, I don’t know if I am peeing in my pants. Please,

please, let us survive. And let things go as planned.

Estimating the impact points, Tyler let fly the first wave. When they exploded, he could

see the bright explosions through the fog and knew most missed the siege towers. He

whispered Habrok’s name as loudly as he dared. Then released another volley of the

same kind, adjusting his trajectory. He had to change his fusillade plan. Habrok arrived

as the second volley hit, this time among the siege towers. He could see a few of the

belfries, the enclosed top of the towers, starting to burn. He must have directly hit

those towers. One thing about magical fire, they tend to stick around for a while, he

thought, a bit like napalm. Not as terrifyingly gluey though.

“Yes, Sire?”

“Tell me how I am doing with the attacks. Can’t do casting and checking at the same

time. I need to unload fire as fast as I can. Towers first and then wagons as well as the

catapults!”

“Towers. Concentrate on your last area, Sire. From my recollection, the others are

behind and in front of them.”

Tyler strengthened the power of his next detonations. When they hit, he was rewarded

with the sight of several towers tottering and then falling into the ground, amid

thunderous crashes and a whirlwind of fire and flying embers. Hope that got some

wagons and catapults. And more of the enemy too.

“A lot have been hit, Sire. Some may be standing but I am sure they are on fire. The

enemy is still disoriented. No movement towards us yet.”

He fired another volley again. And two weaker ones further out, trying to catch the fog-

covered wagons and catapults. He was conscious about over-exerting himself. He found

that as he had not exerted himself fully in the casting of the spells and in alternating

their power, he was not as drained as he anticipated. He stopped casting and tried to

let his body recover. He was still trying to determine how effective his attacks had

been. But the fog and the smoke, not to mention his lack of experience, made it

impossible for him to do so. The damage appeared great but he could be mistaken.

“Habrok, what do you see? Did we do as much damage as we intended?”

“For the towers, Sire. Most have been damaged for sure and a lot have fallen to the ground. But damage can be repaired if the tower is still strong enough to stand. The

wagons and catapults in front must have sustained some damage. The ones at the back

of the towers have barely been touched. I suggest we hit the wagons for now. Then

the towers. Burning wagons may help burn the towers and frustrate salvage efforts.”

Tyler did as Habrok suggested. Two weak waves against the wagons behind the tower,

taking care to distribute the shower of fire. Then a stronger one against the towers.

Hopefully, some of the barrage reached the catapults and wagons in front. He did find

it strange that no movement towards them have been initiated by the enemy so far.

“Sire, movement towards us from the rear encampments. I suggest we move now to

the third position and deal with them first. At least delay them, before we continue with

our attacks.”

Battle plans really do not survive the first encounter with the enemy.

Tyler didn’t respond but moved immediately to the last prepared position. He dissolved

the prepared shapes in front of them. It seemed they won’t serve any purpose

anymore. Better not leave any magical trace out of the ordinary. The enemy in front will

be too busy with the fires and the reaction of the ones further up front will take time.

Reaching the last position, Tyler turned to Habrok.

“I see far off shapes but I can’t determine how far they are.”

“About a mile and a half, Sire. It’s just unfortunate the jotunn in charge had quick wits

about him. But you have time to give the encampment in front of us a rainy day.”

Tyler smiled. He released two quick volleys and then a third after a while. Bright lights

of flashing red and yellow flashed through the fog. Amid the booming detonations, he

could dimly hear shouts of alarm, injury, and death. Turning to face where the field of

wagons should be. He fired off another volley.

“Sire, they’re nearer. About a mile out. They’re fast. Very fast. Jotnar on vargar.”

He examined the incoming band. A reaction group, around fifty in the lead, more

following. He quickly created shapes half a mile out. Again in two successive lines

divided by what he trusted was fifty feet, the shapes spread enough