Chapter 43 Sariel #2
A command of radiance, of creation harnessed and made Isabelle’s own. Against that, the gate meant nothing. Its metal shattered, collapsing inward and crushing soldiers pressing against it in a vain attempt to keep it stable.
“Stars have mercy,” Aylah whispered, retreating from the front line. In the sudden, shocked silence that followed, Isabelle’s voice was a trumpet call.
“Victory for Leliel!”
The army surged forward, and Sariel was all too happy to be swept up in it.
He yanked his sword free and charged ahead, determined to be near the front.
The protectorate soldiers weaved to either side of Isabelle, parting like a river, and she an immovable stone.
Faron caught up with Sariel, and he allowed his larger brother to take the lead.
His shield and armor would clear the way.
Behind him, Sariel would ever be his deadly shadow.
With the way opened, and Faron leading, the battle was a slaughter.
Faron batted soldiers aside like playthings, uncaring of the multitude of little wounds and bruises he suffered.
Sariel accompanied him deeper into the ranks, thrusting again and again as if Redemption were a spear, and his brother his protective shield wall.
More protectorate soldiers flooded into the expansive opening between the two walls of the Twin Gates.
“Give chase!” Faron bellowed, his voice accompanied by multiple trumpet calls as squadron leaders gave similar orders.
The troops within were fleeing out the eastern gate.
Sariel saw a flaming phoenix on their banner, marking General Sid among their number.
That the leader of the Astral Kingdom’s army would retreat so readily worried Sariel, but surely it was born of panic.
No one could have predicted the radiant assault Isabelle would unleash upon the supposedly unbreakable iron gates.
When two-thirds of the Astral Kingdom’s army were beyond the eastern wall, and the protectorate closing in, the east gate slammed shut with a clang loud enough to be heard over the din of battle.
Sariel retreated from the carnage to gain a moment’s peace.
His eyes enhanced, he scanned the visible chains and gears that opened the monstrously heavy gate and saw them being hacked apart by the soldiers still inside.
“Clever,” he muttered. With the gate shut and its gears sabotaged, there would be a lengthy delay in giving chase. Unless Isabelle had another miracle within her, but so far the queen remained back from the battle, a rarity for her. Perhaps the prayer had taken more out of her than he believed.
“Barely worked up a sweat,” Faron said, grinning at Sariel as the bulk of the protectorate forces rushed the soldiers trapped against the gates; they threw down their weapons in surrender once their work was done. Faron’s smile vanished as he looked past Sariel back toward the camp.
“Smoke?” he asked, confused. Sariel turned, and sure enough, thick plumes rose from the rear of the army.
“An ambush?” Sariel wondered.
“Stop it first, ask questions later,” Faron said, and beckoned him to follow.
The two dashed through the ranks, weaving between baffled soldiers as they exited the Twin Gates.
The smoke grew with each passing moment.
Far ahead, Sariel saw what seemed like a dozen smaller skirmishes.
Soldiers wearing the symbol of the Tower Majestic battled in a chaotic melee throughout the supply wagons.
Many attackers lacked shields in their off hands, and instead wielded torches.
They never meant to stop us , Sariel thought as he tore into the nearest soldier, cutting the man in half at the waist. Only starve us as we continue east.
Faron arrived a heartbeat later, roaring into the melee like a furious bear.
Sariel split from him, the pair two tornadoes winding through the battle.
Where they went, the fighting ended, not that there was much to begin with.
The ambushers were horribly outnumbered, and once the full force of the protectorate’s army was brought to bear, they quickly crumbled.
Hundreds fled west, while hundreds more threw down their arms to be rounded up as prisoners.
Sariel lingered near one of the burning wagons, watching as men and women dove into it, trying to save what they could. All around them, others flung dirt onto the fires, for they had no water they could spare.
Marshal Oscar arrived next, and he started bellowing orders.
“If you’re gawking, get lost,” he shouted. “We’ve still a fort to occupy. Now, get moving. I want ranks, not an Araketh market.”
Sariel stayed where he was, wanting to hear the final outcome of this ambush.
From what he gathered, nearly five hundred soldiers had hidden somewhere farther back along Nature’s Path.
Where, he did not know, and he suspected they would not find out until interrogating some of the prisoners.
Perhaps a path deeper into the mountains, or a cave that went unchecked for fears of angering qiyan within.
“An unexpected ploy, to be certain,” Faron said, joining him. Together, they watched soldiers form a tight circle around the several hundred surrendered troops of the Astral Kingdom. “Rather than hold the fort, they went for our supplies.”
“Sid weakened his forces within the Twin Gates, but in doing so might have crippled our chance to lay siege,” Sariel muttered. “We’d have been forced to assault the walls and suffer tremendously in doing so. Only Isabelle’s miracle spared us such a fate.”
He quieted. Isabelle approached, flanked on all sides by advisers, nobles, and her marshal. They were arguing about how to respond, their conversation fierce.
“Enough!” Isabelle snapped at them. She stopped before the ring of prisoners. “The future can wait. I want to know how many wagons in total we lost.”
“Nine,” Aubert answered.
Isabelle shook her head.
“I delivered us victory at the hands of the goddess,” she said. “And yet, my reward is this?”
Those with her fell silent, unsure of how to answer. The soldier in charge of the prisoners stepped forward from the circle, and he cleared his throat while saluting.
“Yes?” Isabelle asked.
“We’re still hunting down some who fled west,” the man said, sounding nervous. “But not counting what few are brought in by nightfall, this here is the sum of all who surrendered once the wagons were burned.”
The queen did a poor job of hiding her exasperation.
“And?” she asked.
The soldier stood up straight and crossed his arms behind him.
“I would know your orders, my queen. Shall we bring them with us? Or have them sent west, to be detained at Cevenne?”
Isabelle shook her head. The gold in her eyes seemed to fade.
“They burned what food I might have spared,” she said, turning away. Her voice was ice when she gave her order.
“Execute them.”