“Our avalanche took care of thousands of them,” Zimmer said. “But from what I see down there, I doubt General Utros would even notice the loss of that expeditionary force.”
Scanning the ancient army, the burn scars on the hills, the damage done to the plain, Verna tried to imagine what had happened here. “The city fought hard against them, that’s for certain. And it looks like they have had some success.”
Captain Trevor looked pale and distraught. “We need to get inside Ildakar and find out what’s happened.”
General Zimmer heaved a great breath. “I know you want to make your way back to the city, but unless you can find a way for us to fly, wizard, we will not get through that army. Is your gift that strong?”
Renn scratched the beard stubble on his cheeks. “No.”
The gray drizzle and the clouds overhead muted the details, though the sun struggled to come out. As they watched, Verna saw the distant gates of Ildakar open, and six separate groups of fighters, like individual strike forces, rode outward in a brash and foolish sortie. “Look, they’re launching an attack.”
“Such small strike forces! Are those all the defenses Ildakar has left?” Renn said in disbelief. “They will be like tiny darts against a bull yaxen.”
They all watched the small parties race recklessly away from the walls. The six parties galloped in separate directions, heading toward different points. Reacting to this unexpected and unimpressive incursion, the large ancient army began to stir. At the lead of each Ildakaran strike force rode a gifted fighter who called up roaring winds and flashes of lightning, using magic to sweep aside the defensive lines. The six parties rode at full speed, intent on some clear goal.
“That cannot be a full-scale attack,” Zimmer said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Most of the groups are skirting the edge of the big camp, riding the perimeter. Are they trying to get away? It makes no sense.”
“Yes, it does,” Verna said, pointing. “Each of those groups has a specific target. They know where they’re going.”
The six teams galloped at breakneck speed, flailing with swords and magic, clearing away the half-petrified soldiers who closed in to stop them. Verna could tell they were avoiding direct engagement for the sake of speed. Two of the groups rode to the boundary hills along the southern edge of the valley, and two other teams went north, riding along the edge of the blackened grass.
Another strike force circled around and cut through the sparsest part of the camp toward the far end of the valley, where Verna and the others lay hidden. The gifted leader of that group formed a wedge of air, like a plow through the defending soldiers.
The last of the six teams headed straight into the heart of Utros’s army, cutting their way into the thick of the soldiers.
Fierce lightning lanced out from all the groups, striking clustered enemy soldiers, blasting divots in the ground. Verna struggled to understand what they hoped to accomplish.
Oliver and Peretta stood together, staring, and Novice Amber said, “Can’t we do something to help? They don’t even know we’re here.”
Oliver gave a determined nod. “When we called down the avalanche, we all worked together, and look what we achieved.” He looked behind him at the gifted scholars in their party, along with the D’Haran soldiers, the handful of guards from Ildakar, and Verna’s Sisters of the Light. “We can do something. We know some spells.”
“But we don’t know what their plan is,” Sister Rhoda pointed out, “or how we can assist them.”
“We know that we should help Ildakar, no matter what,” Peretta said. “We know what side to choose.”
Renn’s voice cracked with dismay. “That’s Ildakar. If we can take action, then we must.”
The strike forces galloping along the northern and southern hills were heading swiftly to some predetermined position. One group on each side of the valley stopped halfway along the boundary hills. The defenders formed a circle around a gifted leader in the center, who began some sort of activity. Other strike forces continued riding even faster along the hills, farther from Ildakar.
The strike force closest to Verna and her hidden companions faced fierce opposition, though. The enemy ranks closed up as they charged forward, blocking the team and curtailing their progress, though they all kept fighting.
“Look, there is our chance! We have to help.” Renn pointed. “We can surprise the enemy from behind. Nobody knows we’re here!”
“Dear spirits, yes.” Verna looked back at Amber, Rhoda, Eldine, and the other Sisters who had followed her from Cliffwall. “We will use our magic now, all of us.”
Their expedition got ready to move, even though the odds were against them. “If we are going to make a difference, we’d better head out.” General Zimmer mounted his warhorse. “Come on!”
Drawing upon his glory as a wizard of Ildakar, Renn swirled his hand in the air, and the thick clouds overhead pooled like an eddy in a gray river. At his summons, rain began to pour heavily out on the battlefield.
As she mounted her horse, Verna directed her comments to the eager apprentices from Cliffwall. “Remember what you learned. We taught you many spells already, and we will need every trick you can think of.”
As they spurred their mounts into motion, Renn shouted in a hoarse voice, “For Ildakar!”
Ahead, the nearby strike force had stalled, surrounded by half-petrified fighters who battered them. The Ildakarans fought furiously, seemingly protected by unusual silken cloaks. The wizard who led the group summoned lightning to blast the enemy ranks, clearing an area and knocking the ancient soldiers back, but it bought him only a small amount of time. He got immediately to work.
The enemy fighters regained strength and pressed forward again toward the trapped strike force, while the defenders made a last stand, encircling the central wizard to give him room to complete his task. He lifted a sack and dribbled a red liquid on the ground, drawing some kind of large pattern.
Utros’s fighters pummeled the defenders, trying to reach the wizard before he completed his work.
“Faster!” Verna said, as they raced forward.
In the downpour, Renn surprised the enemy attackers by blasting lightning from behind them, incinerating twenty of the hardened soldiers. A roar of astonishment swept through the ranks as they turned to face the unexpected attack from the rear.
Verna leaned forward, grasping the horse’s mane with one hand while clenching her other into a fist and pounding the air in front of her. Her magic sent a rumble of wind that slammed into the enemy line surrounding the trapped strike force. Amber and the other six Sisters used the same magic, blowing the stiff warriors out of their way.
The wizard at the center of the strike force did not fight back with his own magic, did not break his concentration as he painted an intricate design on the ground. He had long grayish-yellow hair that hung in a thick braid at the side of his head, and he worked swiftly, ignoring the bedlam all around him. Verna realized that he must be making some kind of spell-form with the red paint.
Renn called as he rode forward, “That man looks like Oron, using magic to shield it from the rain, a wizard from the skinners’ guild!”
All eight Sisters of the Light blasted with more wind. Verna released a jagged bolt of lightning that vaporized a tall warrior in leather armor. General Zimmer rode hard with his sword raised, as did the D’Haran soldiers behind him. Captain Trevor and the city guards kept up, flushed and determined to fight as well. They crashed through the besiegers around the strike team.