nagpurpolice B3 Chapter 86: A Still Pond
B3 Chapter 86: A Still Pond
B3 Chapter 86: A Still Pond
Every battle had a certain rhythm to it—something that Quintus had learned over the course of many. Someone like the bard would probably liken it to a musical piece, but those tended to be far more predictable. He considered the waves lapping against the shore a more apt comparison. Steady and unceasing, with each wave composed of so many smaller ones that surge forth with unpredictable strength.
It was something that Quintus found himself considering much of late. His grasp of that rhythm had always been praiseworthy, and he’d put it to good use as Primus Pilus. That grasp had only grown more firm as skills like [Tactician’s Awareness] grew and leveled. And now, bereft of those skills, he found himself relearning how to take hold of the rhythm once more.
“Rotate!” He called as the force of the enemy’s latest assault began to ebb. “Archers, covering fire!”
The men shifted their formation. Men who’d spent too long atop this wall slipped back to take advantage of whatever rest Quintus could give them. When the orcs began to rally, a hail of arrows dissuaded them from getting too brave. Even then, a few managed to scale the walls using those damned ladders and needed to be hurled back down bodily.
Ebb and flow. Though he could see a lot more ebb on the horizon if things didn’t change soon.
“Sir,” one of the centurions jogged up to Quintus. “The archers report that they are running low on arrows. They have enough for a few dozen more volleys.”
He nodded, expecting it. They’d prepared a significant stockpile just in case skills like [Conjure Arrow] were no longer an option. But those reserves weren’t endless.
“Have the elves with arrow creation skills retreat beyond the field and make more. Have our fastest men ready to help transport them.”
The centurion saluted and darted away. Taking men away from the front lines was the last thing Quintus wanted to do. But it was that or drastically reduce the effectiveness of a third of his forces.
He turned his attention back to the battle at hand. What were the odds that they'd repel this assault? And the next? What about the next ten, twenty, thirty? How quickly could they manage each one? How long would their supplies hold out and allow them to continue? When they did fall back, would it be to a group of their victorious brethren or a second assault from behind?
Each individual conflict was won through strength and sheer force of will, maybe a little bit of trickery here and there. But eventually it came down to the details. And those details painted quite an uninspiring picture.
Another messenger arrived. “Sir. Reinforcements from the emperor have arrived at the rear. Specialists and half mages, as expected. The Legatus is unable to establish contact with them, outside of basic signaling. But they are working to hem in the orcs as we speak.”
Quintus nodded. “Good. Does the Legatus have any revised orders?”
“No, sir. We are to continue to hold out for as long as we can.”
There was little else they could do. As the situation at the rear devolved, Gaius had moved back to coordinate the men, leaving Quintus to take charge of half their forces at the front. The orcs had managed to break through the second gate and were now working on the third. But this one would not prove so simple to fell.
He looked down at the “gate”, which now boasted a wall of thick cement behind it. It had been a close thing, but the engineers had managed to reinforce it before the orcs could throw up another skill nullification field here. And given the current situation, Quintus had seen no reason to hold back. They would destroy it themselves if need be, once this was all over. Though he suspected that wouldn’t be necessary.
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Quintus continued to coordinate their forces, moving contubernia and centuries about as he optimized lines of fire from all the various positions along the mountainous terrain. Sometimes the enemy would manage to scale the wall. Others would be stymied before even reaching the gate. Occasionally, a messenger would appear with updates from Gaius or run across the pass’s scaffolds to carry news back. His position was far more straightforward to defend, having been built with it in mind. But Gaius’s was not the same. The rear forces were far from helpless, but they needed to spend a lot more effort converting their position to a more stable one. The pass hadn’t been built for an assault from that direction, after all, much less one from so many angles.
Suddenly, the rhythm of battle seemed to change. The familiar pattern of his foes pulling back for a renewed assault didn’t manifest. Quintus went on high alert as he prepared for a trick or a change to their tactics. But looking over the sea of green, some of them didn’t seem to be massing at all. They were just… standing there.
A few handfuls of the enemy remained in place, the tides of green splitting around them as they moved to attack. Even as their commanders struck them, they didn’t move. They were river stones interrupting the smoothly flowing tides of battle that the orcs had been refining. The coordination they’d been practicing suddenly showed cracks.
What started at the rear of the orcs’ formation quickly raced through to paralyze the rest. The hooting and hollering turned to barely coherent mumbling.
“Hold your fire!” Quintus raised his hand to stall his men. He had no idea what was going on. But whatever it was sent a shiver down his spine. Were they attempting to cast a spell? Orcs shouldn’t be able to do that, but at this point…
“Shields up! Brace!”
The entire wall hunkered down and prepared for some massive attack. Yet none came. All their waiting yielded was more dazed orcs mumbling to no one.
He heard a messenger approach from behind. “Sir. There’s been a development. The orcs…”
“I see that.” Quintus couldn’t help but snort. “What is going on?”
“We don’t know, sir. But it seems to have originated from our reinforcements.”
He stared again at the slowly quieting mass of enemies below. The orcs that still remained in their right mind looked around in confusion and growing panic. They tried to rouse their comrades or keep up the assault, only to fall victim to the same condition. Little by little, the army below slowed its ceaseless assaults until they disappeared altogether. The once turbulent sea below turned to a still pond of gently rippling green.
Quintus felt the unease of his men. The assaults had stopped, but the reasons remained unclear. Would this last?
“Archers,” Quintus called over. He barely had to raise his voice at this point. “Pick off what enemies you can.”
The elves nodded and began raining down death once more. The orcs didn’t bother to dodge. Even when struck in their vitals, they barely flinched, so ensnared were they in whatever madness had taken them. Slowly, the Legion began culling its foes. For the first time, more didn’t rush to replace them.
He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. At any moment, they would wake up and resume their attacks. But it never happened, aside from a small handful of orcs, who either fled or were struck down from afar. Quintus considered sending men down to more efficiently cut through the orcs, but that would have been a difficult and reckless proposition. Instead, he simply watched on as they continued to slaughter the defenseless foes.
After a bit of time, he saw that some of his Legionnaires also began acting strangely. He rushed over to check on them himself, seeing them muttering into the air as the orcs did. It was only a few dozen of them, ones that had been at the front and hurling orcs off the wall.
Quintus snapped his fingers in front of one man’s face. Nothing. He shook the man, took off his helmet, and slapped him. Still nothing.
He swore under his breath. It was too good to be true. Of course, this would affect them as well. They had won, and now they would see the cost of their victory.
Then, just like that, the man snapped out of it. The legionnaire blinked and opened his eyes, looking at Quintus with newfound clarity. “Sir?”
“Drusus.” Quintus hid his relief. “What happened?”
Drusus shook his head, then winced. He held his forehead as though to keep it from splitting open. “I… I saw things. Strange things. It was almost like I was a child again, being questioned by tutors. But far more exhilarating.”
Quintus frowned. “What—?
“Sir! It’s spreading!”
His head whipped around. More and more Legionnaires swayed in the breeze, their eyes sightlessly staring. A few more shook their heads as though awakening from it already. But they succumbed without warning, without any obvious sign.
More shouts of alarm went up and were subsequently silenced until he, too, began to hear music.