The troll roared, its voice slurred and impossible for Mari to understand. But its gestures were unmistakable as the troll raised its arms threateningly at the sight of people with weapons and charged forward. Within moments the open area had turned into a horrible brawl as the soldiers fought to subdue the monster, their weapons doing little damage while the troll’s hammering blows wreaked havoc on the warlord’s troops.
Mari could hear murmurs of grim satisfaction as those with her took in the battle. “How much damage can that troll take?” she asked Alain.
“It depends on the troll,” Alain said.
“Of course it does.” There were times when Mages could be just as particular as engineers.
The former silence of the night had given way to a cacophony of yells, shouts, screams, clashes of metal on metal, and over all the roar of the troll. Mari saw Raul’s soldiers form into ranks and volley crossbow fire at the troll. To one side others were wheeling the warlord’s ballista into position. “Alain, we need some light down there, and that ballista needs to be taken out.”
“I understand.” She saw Alain tense with concentration, and a moment later the wooden ballista erupted into flame, those who had been loading it falling away with cries of dismay. “What about some of the tents?” he asked.
“Yes. Set some of those on fire, too.”
Mari nerved herself again as two tents blossomed with fire. Between them and the burning ballista the fights in the warlord’s camp were well illuminated. General Raul is a monster. He needs to be stopped just like a rampaging dragon or that troll. She raised her rifle, remembering the faces of those she had been forced to kill in Marandur. Then Mari looked up to see the warlord’s soldiers being beaten into formation to face the troll. She remembered the screams and wondered how many nights had been like that, how many victims had suffered. “Mechanics! Aim at anyone giving orders and at anyone with a crossbow! Open fire!”
Entire common armies might muster only twenty rifles because of the cost the Mechanics Guild charged and because the Guild deliberately kept the supply of rifles very limited. Ammunition was so expensive that soldiers might as well be firing gold coins every time they pulled a trigger. But Mari had forty rifles that suddenly erupted in a ragged volley to pour fire into the warlord’s camp, and plenty of ammunition looted from Edinton.
A dozen of “General” Raul’s officers fell under the hail of bullets. A few others tried to rally or threaten Raul’s fighters, only to fall as well as the Mechanics targeted them.
The troll stomped around, smashing everything and everyone within reach, but a thick dark substance was oozing from numerous wounds and its ponderous movements were slowing.
A company of the warlord’s troops in matched armor and armed with crossbows came running into the area, stopping to work the levers to draw their bows. “Get the new guys!” Mari yelled over the sound of gunshots and battle.
Mari raised her rifle, sighting on a fighter with a crossbow and feeling once again a sick turmoil inside. Mari’s target fell as she levered another round into her rifle, trying not to think about what she had just done, then leveling the gun again and firing at a second crossbowman. The crackling of Mechanic rifle shots rose in an almost continuous roar and their muzzle flashes lit the field in a riot of light. Mari’s shot missed her target but apparently hit someone nearby, who screamed and clutched her arm, dropping her crossbow.
Mari blinked in surprise as her latest target seemed to disappear. Then she realized the troll had stumbled close to the crossbow wielders and was slamming them right and left so hard that they were flying through the air for some distance before crashing to the ground or into other fighters.
Mari tried to lever in another round and realized her rifle was empty. She dug out bullets from her jacket pocket and fed them in as fast as she could, wondering how much longer it would be before her Mechanics themselves came under attack. The warlord’s soldiers couldn’t miss the barrage of rifle fire, but in their dark jackets the Mechanics were hard to see, and the troll was occupying the attention of almost everyone in the camp.
She felt a curious exhilaration mingling with the dread that still filled her. Alain was by her side, she was facing danger and overcoming it, she was righting all of the wrongs done by the warlord and his thugs, and it felt good, it felt right, and that scared her, too, even as Mari saw one of the warlord’s officers brandish a sword to threaten a reluctant batch of Raul’s fighters and with an angry snarl put a bullet in him.
A tight group of soldiers carrying pikes came marching into the battle, leveling their weapons at the troll and advancing with steady discipline. General Raul’s bodyguards, Mari guessed. The keystone of his little army. “Take out those people with the pikes!” she yelled.
A moment later she heard and felt a whoosh of air past her head. Puzzled, Mari suddenly noticed one of Raul’s fighters gazing directly at her and setting another bolt onto his crossbow.
Mari brought her rifle to her shoulder again, but as the soldier raised his crossbow it caught fire. He dropped it and ran. “Thanks, Alain.”
The pike formation had lost quite a few soldiers before reaching the troll, dissolving under the hail of Mechanic rifle fire like a block of salt left out in the rain. The troll, spotting the large group of enemies, shambled toward them. Ignoring the pikes that tore into it, it waded into the formation. The fighters scattered, dropping their long weapons, which were worse than useless once the enemy was among them.
“It is time to call in the others,” Alain said.
Mari stopped, aghast at realizing she had been so caught up in events that she had forgotten about other responsibilities. She dug the far-talker looted from Edinton out of one of her jacket pockets. “Master Mechanic Lukas! Tell Major Sima it is time for his soldiers to move in!”
“… move?” she heard in reply.
Cursing Guild technology, Mari tried again. “Major Sima! Attack now!”
“… under… Sim… now…”
Sima and his one hundred volunteers from the Confederation should be leaving the town now, sallying from one of the gates and moving against the front of Raul’s camp to pin the warlord’s army between Sima’s force and the Mechanic rifles.
“There he is!” Mari heard Alli cry. A moment later, Alli’s rifle barked again. Down in the camp, a big man in an ornate breastplate spun about and fell. Alli fired again, then a third time, and the man stopped moving.
Mari could hear trumpets sounding in the direction of the city. Sima’s soldiers. But in addition, she heard the sound of drums. “What’s that, Alain?”
He paused to listen over the sounds of battle. “Tiae. The battle drums of Tiae. The soldiers of the city come to join the fight.”
“They’ve got some scores to settle,” Mari said.
The troll staggered into the last organized body of fighters in the camp, and a moment later the survivors of the warlord’s army fell apart into a mob trying to escape.
Mari went to one knee from weariness as she stared down at the camp, seeing common soldiers from the Confederation and Tiae sweeping in to take prisoner men and women who had dropped their weapons and were begging for mercy. Others kept running until they collided with the line of Mechanics or with other soldiers from Pacta Servanda.
“General” Raul’s army had ceased to exist.
Mari got to her feet, leaning on her rifle for support. “Is anybody hurt?” she yelled.
“Tesa took a crossbow bolt in her hip,” a hail came back.
“Jorge got grazed. Nothing serious.”
Realizing how lucky they had been, how much they owed the troll for the damage it had done to the warlord’s army, Mari shouted again. “Somebody stay with Tesa until the healers get to her! The rest of you, let’s move in!” She waved the Mechanics forward.