Chương 147: Day One Hundred And Forty-Six

Dear Diary, I promised Saffron I'd hold off until she called for me or something happened to her. My blood pressure is regretting that right now. So yesterday was pretty copacetic. Nothing going on but day-to-day stuff, even if I did spend the day recruiting instead of practicing my written Celtic. At the end of the day I fed Isnomi, curled up in bed, and went to sleep. I don't remember if I dreamed or not. I'm not sure I actually got to sleep.

As I lay there in the quiet, darkened room, slowly drifting off, Saffron's voice interrupted my snooze. Don't be alarmed, but there may be a problem. Sure, like there's any chance at all that phrase interrupting my nodding off wasn't going to throw me into immediate panic mode. What's going on? The camp is under attack. I need to focus, but you should be able to watch through my eyes. With that I got sucked into a vision of what she was seeing, hearing, feeling right at that moment.

Copper filled her mouth as she buttoned up her jacket, slung Vulcan's case over her shoulder, and grabbed up her other weapons. Unlike the rest of her squad, she didn't carry a shield. Why not Vulcan? He's not exactly a close-quarters weapon. Stop jostling my elbow. Yes Ma'am. With that, Gertrude and Vivian led the way out of the tent. They joined the rest of Saffron's unit and moved toward the sounds of fighting.

After passing another row of tents, they came across a gaggle of soldiers in orange with blue crosses led by a pair in fancy blue and orange outfits. One of the guys in blue and orange shouted something, but I couldn't make it out over the general battlefield noises. Saffron shouted, "Down!", and the front row dropped to one knee, shields up in front of them.

"Second rank, fire!" The gaggle of 'Damn soldiers was maybe thirty feet away, and they pretty much filled the lane between tents. It would have taken effort to fire and not hit something, and at those ranges our crossbows hit hard enough to punch right through metal armor, let alone leather or squishy meat sacks. Three of the soldiers fell, and one of the 'Damn officers took a bolt to the shoulder. Unfortunately, all it did was piss him off.

"Third rank, fire!" Saffron had brought her crossbow up as the line in front of her dropped to one knee to begin reloading. I have no idea where the other three aimed at, if they bothered to aim at all, but given where the first volley hit, my guess was center mass. Saffron herself took aim at the wounded officer's left eye, and when she shouted the command to fire, I watched the officer stumble backward, then drop to the ground limp. Another soldier dropped, and the other officer staggered.

I lost track of the battle as Saffron knelt; while she tried to see as she reloaded, the bulk of the guys in the front line obscured any vision to the front.

"Fourth rank, fire!" Crossbows loosed with that metallic twang, and from downrange I heard the enemy officer shout, "charge!" Saffron shouted out, "second rank, fire!" The guys in front of her stood, another volley of crossbow bolts flew downrange. The sounds of men falling over shouldn't be that loud. While that happened, Saffron had been Shaping. She released the shape then stood, her crossbow coming up to her shoulder.

The enemy, given the order to charge, had closed the gap to maybe ten feet when Saffron called out, "third Rank, fire!" Again she aimed for the enemy officer, but this time he was ready, dodging to the side just as she fired. The shot which would have punched a hole in his head just clipped his ear. He leapt, then hit something in midair that deflected him away. Her bolt loosed, Saffron knelt again and called out 'Fourth rank, fire!" Another thrumming of bows as Saffron worked her crossbow's lever like a maniac.

"First rank, fire!"

"Damned Phileo Magi!" The officer, now sliding down the side of Saffron's Filtration Ward, swore vehemently, but apparently he didn't have anything to break the Ward with. Instead, he drew a knife from his belt and flung it directly at Saffron. Right before it hit, Sergeant Viktor pushed her aside and took the hit. Saffron scrambled to her feet and took aim at the officer's center mass.

"All ranks, fire when ready." She followed her own order, and half a dozen crossbow bolts punched right through the 'Damn officer. He finally slid to the ground, and Saffron took the momentary reprieve to cock her bow, drop her Filtration Ward, walk over to where the second 'Damn officer lay bleeding, and put a bolt straight into his eye at point blank range. That done, she turned and jogged back to her unit.

Sergeant Viktor had the hilt of a knife sticking out of his chest at an odd angle, but he was still breathing, albeit painfully. Saffron knelt next to him and placed one hand on his shoulder and the other on the hilt of the knife. She looked to the two Veterans on either side of her and said, "hold him." Once they had a firm grasp of the Sergeant's shoulders, she looked him in the eye and said, "ready?" He grunted, "no, but..."

His words got lost in a scream of pain as Saffron ripped the dagger out, hitting him with a Stabilize just as she did so. He slumped to the ground, unconscious. She sucked her teeth.

"I'd love to say our job is done after that lot, but not likely." She leaned over, shaped a Heal Injury, and dumped it right into the knife wound. Sergeant Viktor's eyes shot open at that, and he said, "never gonna be ready for that kinda shit." He reached up and used Saffron's offered hand to lift himself to his feet. I suppose working out with me really did give her the strength to manhandle somebody bigger than her when the need arose. Face blank, he nodded to the second officer Saffron had finished off.

"that wasn't real honorable-like." She just looked up at him.

"War is not a game." A smile stretched the Sergeant's face and he replied, "let's go get some." He turned to the unit. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. She asked, "Anyone else injured?" It turned out Thomas had a smashed toe where he'd driven his shield down before pulling it back, and Vivian had pinched a finger in her crossbow's lever, but nothing that would slow them down.

At Viktor's confirmation, Saffron said, "we're going to head for General Lancaster's tent, sweeping the lanes as we go."

"Yes, ma'am!" her unit called out. They fell back into formation, then started toward the commander's tent. Just before they got there, a flare of light erupted in front of them, followed by the sounds of metal clashing. As her unit came in view of the entrance to Lancaster's tent, she saw him fighting three officers backed up by a dozen guys with spears. While the guys with spears weren't really interfering, they did seem to be forming a perimeter to prevent him from getting away.

For his part, Lancaster had some kind of polearm, a long slightly curved blade on a stick, and if he wasn't making much forward progress against the three officers, he wasn't losing, either. Still, with blood dripping from all four of them, it was only a matter of time before they wore him down by attrition, if nothing else.

With everyone focused on the four men fighting in the middle of the circle, not to mention the awful lighting and constant sound of screams and fighting, none of the enemies had noticed Saffron's unit yet. She whispered, "front two ranks, kneel. All ranks, fire on my mark." The order got passed through the unit quickly, and Saffron aimed at the back of the head of one of the three enemy officers. The moment he stopped to draw a break, she barked out, "mark!" as she fired.

The enemy she'd aimed at never saw it coming, and if he started moving just before she fired, that only meant that he wound up with a bolt coming out of his eye instead of his forehead. One of the two officers on Lancaster spun and charged for Saffron's unit; this time she didn't have enough time to put up a Filtration Ward to keep him out. He knocked two bolts out of the air with his sword, and then he was on the front line. He lunged, the point of his sword hitting Richard's shield and penetrating.

He followed that up with a kick to Harold's shield that sent Harold stumbling back into the second rank, knocking them all prone. At this point the enemy looked straight at Saffron and cried out, "you!" then leapt at Saffron, who spun to interpose Vulcan's case between her and a sword swing that would have bisected her. Without thinking, I leapt to her, fully intending to give this asshole a new orifice, but before I could so much as push out a Mana Blade, one protruded from between the guy's shoulder blades.

I turned to help out with the rest of the 'Damn troops, only to see Lancaster finishing off the last of them, including one who had turned to run and one who had been kneeling on the ground. While he did that I took the opportunity to clothe myself, since it was really fuckin' cold out here.

"Diaz! What are you doing here?"

"Had a bad feeling, figured I'd help out?' He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Dammit. You and you," he pointed to Jack and Mary, "start spreading the word that everyone is to form up on my tent." As the two sped off, he turned to the rest of the unit.

"Sergeant, get the rest of this unit to form a perimeter around the tent. As for you two," he glared at both of us, but mostly at me.

"You're on Healing duty. Anyone you can get back in fighting shape, do so. Anyone you can't, deliver back to one of the Infirmaries. And Diaz?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Under no circumstances are you to leave my tent except to head back to the Academy when this is done. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" For the rest of the night, we wound up playing M. A. S. H., only with a lot less time spent per injury, what with Heal Injury pretty much fixing anything if you threw enough Mana at it. By the end of the night, there were only two who I had to ferry back to the Infirmaries; both of them had taken pretty bad head wounds, and even after I patched them up they didn't do much other than lie there. No idea why, they just didn't get back up the way the others had. I think the battle lasted about two hours.

At least, that's when I stopped hearing screams and the clash of metal on metal. Around two hours after that we stopped getting new wounded, and Lancaster pushed his way through the tent flaps.

"You two are still in here?" I shrugged.

"Nobody told us to go anywhere else."

"No, but I fully expected you to run out of Mana after a while." I grinned up at him, "Nah. That's something other people do." He just glared at me for a bit while I pushed myself up into a passable parade rest. I hadn't run out of Mana, or even come close, but the effort of shaping it all had taken something of a toll on me; sweat dripped from my hair, enough that one of my ears had filled up with sweat at one point and refused to empty itself.

After a bit spent glaring at me to zero effect, he shook his head, "so be it. Good work with the Healing, I've been informed that only two survivors required Infirmary visits?"

"Yes, sir. Don't know what happened with them. Head injuries?" He just nodded, "something for DeLeon and Siobhan to research, I'm sure, but for now I'm completely satisfied with making the New Amsterdam forces lose thirty for every one of ours." For a moment he closed his eyes, muttering something, then turned back to the two of us.

"Aetos, gather your unit up and return here. We'll be altering our bivouac night to night from now on; those three Heroes knew exactly where my tent was."

"It is kinda the biggest one in the place, sir." He just stopped and stared at me. I shrugged.

"Sorry, sir. It's how I found you the other night." He facepalmed.

"Out of the mouths of babes. So be it. Diaz, return to the Academy and do not come back unless you're called for. Aetos, be about it, we'll still want to reorganize the camp; I'm told they came from behind us as well. Diaz?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Let the Headmaster know they've gotten troops behind us somehow. It shouldn't be too many, but any troops at all could pose a problem while most of our Heroes are in the field."

"Yes, sir!"

"Well, get going." Stay safe, Kitten. You too, Goof. I stepped back to Miles' office, only to have the man himself nearly jump out of his skin.

"Headmaster?"

"Cadet Diaz. I'm sure I've heard of some custom called 'knocking'."

"Sorry, Headmaster. I was given a message for you from General Lancaster." He shook his head while he blotted up some ink he'd splotched when I arrived.

"How did.. never mind that, what's the message?"

"The 'Damn Army has gotten troops behind our Grand Army. I'm guessing we need to man the walls or something?" He nodded.

"That's about the size of it." He sighed.

"Back to your room, Diaz." What else could I do? I jogged back to my room, only to find the Menace and Marie sitting up waiting for me. Marie took one look at me, said, "Wait," and left, only to return a bit later with her bath cart. After a thorough washing, she tucked the Menace and I into bed. I'm not sure what happened after that, because I fell directly to sleep. Marie woke me the next morning in time to get breakfast.

Then she woke me again halfway through breakfast, but that time I actually got up and got myself down to the Dining Hall. I hadn't really noticed before, but the place looked really empty with all the Cadets who were in the field. I mean, it never really got crowded, since I think the place was intended to feed all the Cadets and Heroes all at once, but now it practically echoed. Near the end of breakfast, Headmaster Miles stood up and waited for everyone to quiet down.

"Cadets, each of you will be required to stand guard at the City walls. The rotation is posted opposite the Entrance; review it as soon as breakfast is done." Which is how I wound up spending all day Saturday standing on Camden Yards' north wall, staring at nothing much at all.

From what she told me, Saffron had pretty much the same deal; Lancaster decided that the Army would spend a day recuperating from the night battle, for a value of 'recuperating' that meant 'digging a moat and lighting the whole place up like a shithouse in the fog'. Still, could have been worse. Could have had to spend the day practicing my written Celtic without Saffron.