Chapter 60: Volume 2 Chapter 18 – Baptism of Fire (Part 3/4)

Major Reinhardt von Gottschall, commander of the 2nd cavalry brigade, 9th battalion, and leader of the newly formed 'Battlegroup Reinhardt', couldn't believe his eyes.

Some of his men were distracted by the frontal assault. The Skagen shield wall had come into contact with the Weichsen infantry, and a ferocious melee now engulfed the main defense line to their left.

Others gawked at the devastation caused by the few siphoneers who had broken through. Their rimefire inflicted untold losses among the tight infantry formations before they were brought down.

However Reinhardt remained focused on their objective at the extreme right flank, where he found himself staring at an awe-inspiring sight.

The entire 'line' -- what had once been a battalion of hundreds -- had been reduced to three holdouts and a few dozen men. Yet its center was still held by a lone girl who knelt on one knee due to her injuries.

Her armor was too light to be soldier-appropriate. Nor did she wear a proper Weichsel uniform. Yet with a fiery reach of twenty paces, her jet of flames continued to sweep back and forth, breaking the charge like a boulder in the middle of a stream.

Blazing corpses, burning pools, and the entangled limbs of crashed ski infantry scattered all around her across the ravaged fields.

It was a scene to inspire, a sight to behold.

"Battalion! Halt! Reiters front! Fire volley over the trench! Avoid friendlies!"

Under his orders, the Kostradan Noble Reiter company moved ahead of the regular cavalry and reached out with casting gloves. Over a hundred fireballs flew out. They hurled past the perimeter trench where they detonated together in a blazing inferno that covered the fields.

Assuming the enemy had standard wards, such a basic elemental barrage would kill and disable few. But battles were also a contest of morale. The chain of explosive blasts knocked countless foes off their feet, buying his forces valuable time.

Better yet: there were now plenty of foes lying prone in pools of icy slush.

The Northmen usually entered battle with frost runes on their skis to ensure clear lanes of advance. However that wouldn't help those who had been knocked off their feet.

"Reiters! Razor Field!"

A second barrage lashed out, with mana rays arcing over the air before striking wet ground. The wintry mix froze solid in an instant as icy transmutation spread, pinning fallen men to the freshly frozen ground. Spears of icy stalagmites raced upward, piercing flesh and forming rows of teeth to slow those still trying to advance.

The charge was soon stopped by a field of frozen icicles.

Here and there a northern officer would halt the transmutation with bursts of heat or antimagic. But against cohesive spellcasting sent in successive volleys from over a hundred mages, which simultaneously covered huge tracts of the battlefield, the efforts of individuals simply weren't enough.

Time for the finisher. Major Reinhardt thought.

"Reiters! Firemist! Cavalry forward! Form up for charge!"

The Noble Reiters were conscripted mages after all. They lacked the endurance training of true battlemages. After a successive volley of spells most of them would require a short break. Though this was a perfect opportunity for a massed charge by his company of regulars to throw back the enemy forces.

A hundred and thirty cavalrymen soon trotted forward with readied lances and swordstaves while their squad leaders cast warding spells. Meanwhile Major Reinhardt watched as a hundred rays scattered over the northern beachhead before the Ignition spells arrived.

"HOLY FATHER WITH US! CHARGE!" He heard the company commander cry out, just before a searing inferno erupted across the shoreline.

The quake of the massive explosion that followed could be felt tens of kilopaces out.

 

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Sylviane almost fell into the water as her squad emerged from teleportation.

The earthquake, the thunderclap, the heat wave...

Perhaps Weichsel should rename their beloved Firemist Ignition combo as the 'Hammer of God'.

-- Not that the Holy Father needed mundane articles like hammers to smite.

Sir Robert's teleport had landed them on a tiny island in Cross Lake's eastern wing. Only a light snow continued to fill the air, and they could see the battle in the distance. However they were still a good kilopace away from the burning shoreline, where a Weichsen counterattack was preventing the Northmen from deploying the rest of their thousands-strong assault force.

It was dangerous to teleport straight into a battlefield. One could never know where another mage might have placed the infamous Astral Scramble spell, which disabled the safety protocols on incoming teleportation and dealt an instant-death for any arrivals. The spell was so deadly that it was outright banned outside military use. And most towns' teleportation beacons had an enhancement to specifically suppress this spell within its vicinity, just in case some criminal tried to start a murder spree.

The Princess brought herself back to standing upright.

"Ready?" She looked towards her six remaining armigers. Four of them had been killed during the air battle. Three others had been left behind to recuperate from severe injuries.

"As ever, Your Highness," her bodyguard, Lady Mari, declared without hesitation.

Those words were followed by confirmations from all of her armigers, even though Sylviane knew every one of them must be exhausted. A few of them had caught some shuteye yesterday before flying overnight to assault the skywhales. All of them were now relying on Rejuvenate spells to keep themselves from collapsing.

"Let's go then, Blaze Ignition!"

Sylviane expanded her phoenix Hauteclaire's aura over her armigers, who formed into the customary chevron formation as they took flight after their Princess.

"Remember, our job is to disrupt the assault on the defensive line's right anchor," she declared as they flew over the surface of the lake. "Don't risk yourselves beyond that and let Weichsel sort out the rest. Also..."

She felt some reluctance before forcing herself to add: "Keep an eye out for Kaede the familiar. Break off and protect her if you spot that Samaran girl."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Sylviane wasn't entirely sure about risking her companions' lives to protect a girl from her fiancé's thoughtless summoning. Nevertheless, Pascal had asked, his voice almost begging, for her to save Kaede, and she couldn't refuse.

Besides...

Keep your jealousy under control, Sylv. The Princess berated herself. This is not befitting of royalty.

After all, had Kaede not performed as Sylviane had asked? Had the girl not done her duty through determination and bravery? Loyalty should be appreciated and rewarded -- that was what Sylviane's father always said. And Kaede had proven herself time and again to be of great help.

Let's just hope she's still alive. Sylviane thought as she began to spin her burning meteor hammer.

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