Wu Ying nodded slowly, then whispered, “What are our chances?”
Li Yao shrugged.
He could only hope that they had not been sent to die without any hope of success or retreat. It was unlikely. No matter how much the vice-general disliked him, wasting their lives would cause more problems than the man could bear. In that sense, being part of a powerful Sect was protection in itself.
***
The start of the true attack began without fanfare. For a half hour after Wu Ying had arrived, the trebuchets had fired on the walls, hammering at portions of the obstruction and the towers that guarded the defense. But as the morning sun finally rose a quarter of the way to its zenith, the signal drums beat a new rhythm.
Wu Ying cocked his head, watching the signal flags echo the commands of the drum. Even if he did not have significant experience with the army or the drums, this command was easily recognizable.
Advance.
The creak of wooden wheels being pushed forward broke Wu Ying from his reverie, making the cultivator turn forward. To his initial surprise, their assault cover was not moving—until he realized that they had to wait. Ahead of them, the initial assault cover wave had to approach, reach their positions under fire, and deploy their men. Only then would the next wave, including the sky ladders, begin their approach. Only once those were close would Wu Ying’s cover move forward. No point sending them until then, to stand under fire with nowhere to go.
Realizing his foolishness, Wu Ying pushed forward to peer through the small gaps at the front of the wagon. He had to elbow aside Bai Hu as he did so and received a silent glower in return. But Wu Ying was a little too excited to pay proper attention to the man’s displeasure as he tried to catch a glimpse of what was happening outside.
“You there. Soldier. Let him take your place,” Bai Hu growled. He dropped a hand on the soldier who was meant to be steering and watching from the front and yanked him back, creating space for Wu Ying. “If he wants to push, then let him.”
“Honored cultivator, I…” the soldier stuttered, caught between duty and the displeasure of the glowering cultivator. One could see his head lopped off for disobedience. The other might see his limbs broken, from the way Bai Hu’s fist rose.
“It’s fine,” Wu Ying said, stepping into the gap. “I wanted to see.” He flashed the soldier a grin then gave Bai Hu a narrowed eye look. “Better view here. And I have no problem pushing a wagon. Better work than pushing a plow behind an ox.”
“Definitely less shitty,” the other soldier beside Wu Ying muttered under his breath. He probably thought Wu Ying could not hear, not realizing how sharp cultivator senses grew.
Wu Ying decided to dissuade him of that notion by leaning over and murmuring, “Definitely.”
He watched the soldier flush, stutter an apology, before Wu Ying turned his attention back to what he could see in the gap. Luckily, their assault cover had been set on a slight rise in the surroundings, giving them both a rolling start when needed and a slightly better view of the battle going forth before them.
In the time he had been speaking with the soldiers, the first wave of assault covers had covered a hundred yards under the insistent beat of the drums. Wu Ying saw, already, how the formation had grown a little ragged. Wagons that had better terrain, stronger teams, or were just better put together took the lead while others lagged behind. As much as their superiors might desire the first wave to arrive at the same time, reality ensured that it was not possible.
A change in the beat of the drums had the second wave—the sky ladders—begin their slow journey forward. They would take longer to arrive, so their staggered approach was required. Wu Ying knew that soon, they too would begin the advance. But in the meantime…
A harsh snap and whistle, as if someone had cracked a single, large string, broke through the hubbub. As if the first wave had passed an invisible line, the defenders on the wall acted, sending the first of many volleys of arrows at the assault covers. Rising high above, so high that Wu Ying lost sight of the glinting arrowheads, the arrows rose.
And fell.
The actual strike of the arrows as they landed was muted by the all-encompassing noise of the army on march. It only sounded, to his ears, as though a cloud had broken open in the distance, dismissing its wet attendants to the earth. Dozens of light drops, all rolled together such that a single one could not be picked out. The fall of rocks as defending trebuchets released their own payloads was louder and more insistent in being heard.
If the noise of the battle was less than astounding, the sight was eye opening. Wu Ying watched the arrows land, striking at assault covers and bouncing off or raining upon the ground, creating wooden sprouts in the field. Impediments for the oncoming army. And if one wave of arrows finished landing, others arrived soon after. The rocks from the trebuchet were majestic, striking the ground and bouncing. Wu Ying watched one particular rock land almost directly ahead of their route, skipping off the ground and ploughing into an assault cover. It crushed a wagon wheel, leaving the siege weapon to list to the side.
Moments later, soldiers spilled out of the damaged assault cover, holding shields above their head as they ran forward to their assigned position. One caught an arrow in the neck, dropping to the ground as an improperly raised shield failed to save him. The others ran, ignoring the fallen body as infantry paired together with archers in a mad dash to their position across the no-man’s land of arrows.
“Push!” the soldier beside Wu Ying barked at the cultivator.
Wu Ying blinked, then realized he had missed the signal. He hastily gripped the handy wooden divot ahead of him and added his strength to the effort. The covered wagon rolled forward, at first at a snail’s pace but picking up speed when the simple cloth brake holding them still released.
“Not too fast! We have to wait for the sky ladders,” warned the soldier. He was already breathing hard, though whether it was due to fear or effort, Wu Ying could not tell.
Wu Ying slowed down as requested, making sure to not add too much strength. Before him, the war raged, arrows and cast stones landing amongst the assault covers and the newly arrived sky ladders. Already, Wu Ying saw the bodies of soldiers littering the ground, some still moving as they writhed in pain and attempted to crawl back to the safety of their lines. Protective cover or not, the occasional arrow managed to make its way through gaps in the protection or—when used by a powerful cultivator—through the protective coverings directly.
As the assault covers grew ever closer, more and more soldiers were forced to disembark damaged vehicles and risk the fire of the walls under cover of shield and armor. Still, the covers had allowed a good portion of the first wave to arrive unscathed and get into position. Already, some of the archers were returning fire, helping suppress the attacks raining down on them.
A new sound arose—the start of drumming, fainter and deeper than the drums of their own army. Wu Ying frowned, inadvertently slowing. He noticed a slight pause in the arrow fire as the drums signaled a change. Even as the cold thread of dread grew in his stomach, Wu Ying saw a new flight of arrows rise up from the walls.
“That doesn’t look right,” commented Lady Pan. Somehow along the way, the female cultivator had managed to join them at the front of the assault cover.
“I don’t see it.” Wu Ying tried to gauge what it was that Lin Jian had seen before the arrows disappeared from his view. He was still trying to figure it out when they started landing, bringing with them flaming fury.
The arrow storm was much smaller in size, the attack concentrated on the covers themselves rather than spread out across the siege engines and soldiers on foot. Each arrow, upon striking, released a small explosion. Not all the arrows exploded, but a large majority did so, and soon the dried and clay-coated roofs of the siege weapons caught fire, along with portions of their walls.