The surge of enemy combatants continued as the Goretauan force held its position, finally finding themselves in a good defensive position. Attackers rained down on their shield wall, stopped in their tracks only to be dispatched by the spear wielders who were positioned behind. The bodies began to pile up rapidly, though Samuel’s men were not left unscathed. Here and there, holes were punched in the defense, and men fell with cries of agony. Their places were taken almost at once with fresh fighters, but their numbers were beginning to dwindle.

Samuel hovered high above the fighting, using barriers to protect his men from the raining arrows and spells. The enemy mages kept launching spells on his position, both to take out the head of the force and also to eliminate their support. Samuel countered as many spells as he could, and those that he could not stop in time, he blocked or parried. Again and again he swayed from side to side, seizing enemy mana and throwing it back, with a little extra power. He punched great holes in the Mitene Union’s force, taking out five or six warriors at a time. But still, the surge continued.

Their position might have been a good one, but Samuel knew it wouldn’t last long. His supply of mana was draining at an alarming pace. Any normal mage would have collapsed by now, but he was saved by his larger-than-normal reserves. He refueled with enemy mana where he could, but he knew he couldn’t keep it up forever. Even as he was, he was beginning to lose altitude, with most of his mana focused on fighting, unable to keep himself up. He needed a break, he thought. As slowly as he could, he allowed himself to drop back down into the safety of his force, constantly countering and redirecting the spells that rained down on him.

One enemy mage, a bit sharper than the rest, saw Samuel beginning to descend. It was the perfect time for a tricky shot. He conjured a sparking bolt of electricity, whirling it around and around his arm, letting it build in strength. When it was ready, he thrust his arm out and to the side, throwing the bolt out in a wide arcing path. Samuel didn’t see it coming until it had already struck him in the right leg and sent its shock throughout his body. Momentarily stunned, he lost control of his flying spell completely and fell the remaining fifteen feet in a rigid position. The impact against the ground knocked all the air from his lungs, and his officers were concerned at the pained groan he released once he regained control of his body.

“Lord Bragg!” Edmund shouted, pushing men aside to rush over at once. “Where are you injured?”

“I’m fine,” Samuel said, the words muffled through his gritted teeth. His breathing was painful. Probably a dislocated rib. He held himself still, allowing Edmund to place a hand on his torso and work his healing magic. With a painful snap, the rib popped back into place. He coughed pitifully as his lungs refilled themselves, and most of the pain was gone, leaving only a sharp ache behind.

“Thanks,” he said, pushing himself to his feet with a grimace. “He got a good shot in.”

Even as he said it, he drew his two hands apart as an archer would draw a bow. A line of crackling white energy formed between the fingertips of his two hands, growing until it was nearly an inch thick. When he released it, the spell traveled in a direct path towards the mage who had shot him. The man’s shield only provided an extra target as the spell exploded, sending him and his comrades beside him flying several feet back, to land with a crash. Samuel doubted very much that they would stand up again.

“We’re doing better than I expected,” Edmund reported. “Our losses are high but sustainable.”

Samuel nodded his agreement with the statement. The Mitene Union was pouring down from the nearby hill, giving them the advantage of momentum and force. Their momentum came to nothing once they entered melee combat, but those few seconds of crashing impact were taking a serious toll on the camped force. Samuel cursed so quietly that only Edmund could hear, and released two more spells. Though he couldn’t see their destination, he could hear the explosions and sounds of stricken men.

“We need to find a way to break through,” Samuel said. “We cannot hold this position forever when they outnumber us so badly.”

They had begun the encounter suffering a nearly four to one offset, though their efforts had reduced that to about three to one. Had they been in a fortress, the situation would be more favorable, he knew but caught out in the open as they were, they were easy marks for the enemy’s ranged attacks. Once Samuel was unable to maintain his defensive magics, their losses would begin to rise even more rapidly. Even as he had the thought, he shattered the mana of yet another fireball, dispersing the spell into a harmless mist before it could crash into his men. Just under a hundred left, he thought. They’d started with nearly twice that.

Samuel gripped Edmund’s arm as a thought occurred to him. “How many siege mages do we have?”

He saw Edmund’s face contort into a thoughtful frown as he considered the question. Siege mages were rare, as it was a relatively new style of magic. They excelled at long-range and widespread devastation but suffered greatly at defense. “I’d say we have six or seven, my lord.”

Samuel bit his lip reflectively. Was that enough for what he had planned? Furthermore, could he manage his part in the plan that he’d just come up with? He’d just have to give it the best shot he could. They needed something that the Mitene Union hadn’t seen yet, otherwise, it would just be an attack like any other. He countered a lightning strike, sending it back to its caster, and made his mind up on the spot. It was their best shot, even if it was ambitious.

“Gather them in the back,” Samuel said quickly. “Tell them to cast their strongest lighting spell. Spare no resources. It’s all or nothing. Wait for my signal.”

Edmund, ever the practical man wasted no time with foolish questions, and rushed off at once to gather the mages they would need. Samuel turned his attention back to the brunt of the fighting, trying to siphon off as much mana as he could. He paid a slight cost in firepower, but he could feel his reserves refilling slightly. If he could hold that for just thirty seconds, he would be ready. He was dimly aware of Edmund’s voice ringing out, summoning the siege mages to his position. The man’s voice had been trained to be audible over the din of a battlefield, so he had no trouble making himself heard.

Samuel blocked two spells, noting that they had been aimed at Edmund specifically. Some of the mages in the enemy force had noticed the man’s peculiar movements and were trying to shoot him down before he could muster any new men for a plan. Samuel rose back into the air at once, blocking the barrage aimed at his attendant. His intended plan would fall to ruin if Edmund were to be killed, so his priority now was to protect. After about ten seconds, Edmund was lost in the mass of men, and the assault eased somewhat.

A new presence made itself known on the battlefield about fifteen seconds later. Every mage in the area felt it, though only Samuel knew what it would be. Eight siege mages, led by Edmund’s order, had begun condensing as much mana as they could. Samuel drew in a breath of relief as he noticed that each was using his mana rather than an incantation, relying purely on the power and mass of their reserves. A faint light was shining at their position as the mana rose in potency. Samuel knew they would be ready any second.

“Edmund!” He put as much force into his voice as he could, to ensure that the attendant heard him. “Target me! Now!”

There was a slight hesitation in his attendant’s eyes, but only for a second. Edmund turned to face the siege mages, his hand pointed unmistakably in Samuel’s direction. The men showed no sign of hesitation, their faith in Samuel’s power absolute. That was only natural, Samuel thought. He’d taught the majority of the kingdom’s siege mages himself in the previous year, showing them techniques to slightly increase their power without extra cost. That effort paid off now as, in unison, the siege mages moved to strike.

Each siege mage had a thick ribbon of mana flowing around their bodies, mana which was slowly condensing and transmuting into raw electricity. The flashes of light nearly blinded the men near them, so great was the contained power. Then, as one, they whipped those ribbons around their bodies twice, then hurled them skyward at the Archmage. Samuel had a brief moment of misgiving as he saw the amount of energy rushing towards him, but turned to receive them nonetheless. With a supreme effort, he seized control of the mana in each ribbon, pulling them along at a greater velocity.

The enemy mages, seeing Samuel targeted by his allies, paused in their assault for a split second, unable to comprehend what they were seeing. Why would his men attack him with guaranteed lethal force? That hesitation proved to be a great boon for Samuel who had pulled the arcing lines of mana into the path he wanted before any could react. His reflexes weren’t the best as one such ribbon grazed his left forearm, singing the skin, but then the magic was past him, fully in his control. With as much force as he could muster, he braided the ribbons together and thrust them towards the Mitene Union.

The ribbon speared through nearly three dozen men, vaporizing them in an instant as it twirled and spun throughout the enemy force, piercing through barriers without effort. Samuel controlled its movement from on high, coiling and stretching it to cause as much devastation as possible. Once its momentum began to fail and its power dwindle, he coiled it as tightly as he could, and let it explode outward. The resulting shockwave of force and thunder opened a thirty-foot crater in the enemy force, either incinerating or flinging men in its path. Fear ripped through the Mitene Union force, but Samuel wasn’t yet finished.

Swooping forward at once and pulling what mana he could back, Samuel slashed his hands outward through the air, forming a thin red line that traveled with him. Mere meters from the force, and ahead of his allies to avoid harming his men, the line broadened. A wide cone of fire was released, spreading more destruction in front of him. Everything in a half-circle for nearly fifty feet was caught in the fire. The screams of the burned were inaudible, drowned by the roar of the flames. Finally, Samuel landed on the ground before the crippled force of fifty to eighty men, his violet eyes gleaming brightly through the dust.

The Mitene Union, with nearly three-quarters of their force depleted, had only one option. Abandoning their injured comrades, they turned on their heels and fled. They ran from the Gorteauan force as fast as they could, retreating to the safety of Jyrok Fortress. The few fighting men who remained quickly fell, and Samuel’s men could finally move freely. They began to surge forward in pursuit, but Samuel held them back with one raised hand. His silent gesture was reinforced by the shouts of his orders, and the men came to a halt at once, confused.

Samuel was breathing heavily, nearly eighty percent of his reserves having been depleted in that last attack. For a minute or two, he was too exhausted to even conjure words. He could only sink to his knees, overcome by the tidal wave of exhaustion that came with such a momentous effort. It was easily the worst case of drain he’d ever experienced. Not even countering Neratas’ final attack nor the suicidal explosion of that chaotic beast in Zaban could compare. He braced himself with his hands on the ground and was violently sick for several seconds.

“My lord,” Edmund had approached to stand behind him. His voice lacked most of the volume it had previously possessed. “Are you alright?”

“I’m f-” Samuel began, but was cut off by another wave of retching. He wiped his mouth clean on his sleeve and tried again with a weak voice. “I’m fine. That took a lot out of me.”

“I’ll say,” that was one of the siege mages. Samuel couldn’t remember his name. The man stared at Samuel with wide eyes, his legs shaky with his exhaustion. “I’ve never seen so much mana worked at once. You have some godly power, Champion of Arcana.”

Samuel waved tiredly in reply to the praise, too tired to refute it. One of his officers stepped forward, looking expectant. “Should we pursue them, Lord Bragg?”

“No,” Samuel said, struggling back to his feet. The wave of nausea had passed now, and he drew in a deep breath. “There is no need.”

The officer opened his mouth to ask another question, but Edmun hushed the man without looking at him. His eyes were locked onto Samuel’s, a sense of understanding passing between them. “Lord Bragg has the rest handled.”

“But you’re nearly completely drained,” the siege mage protested. “What more could you hope to accomplish? You can’t touch the fortress with what you have now.”

“The preparations are already complete,” Samuel assured the man. “Just wait. Let me recharge for a few minutes, and it will all be over.”

Clearly confused, but content to see what he had in mind, the siege mage nodded his understanding. He and his allies had always respected Samuel of course, knowing him as nothing but the most gifted mage to ever come to the College. But now they had seen the raw power and destruction he was capable of, and their love and respect for him had grown tenfold. They offered him silent salutes of honor, gestures which he returned as best he could.

The force settled itself on the crest of the hill, spreading across the ground in relaxed sitting positions. Food and drink were passed out, and the men ate and drank their fill. They were relieved to have survived the fight and giddy in their victory. The horror of the past hour seemed to fade slightly as toasts were made. To Gorteau. To the King. To the God of War. To Samuel and the god he served. Samuel did his best to ignore the adulation, moodily chewing on some dried meat and sipping cold coffee. He kept his eyes trained on the retreating Mitene Union soldiers, waiting for them to reach the fortress.

Eventually, he saw the force cross over the drawbridge, raising it once more behind them. Even from a distance, it all seemed silent. They were safe from Samuel’s force for the time being. But they weren’t safe from him, Samuel thought. He stuffed the last of the meat into his mouth, chewing it as he walked forward. Conversation halted all around him as the men watched him pace to the front, silently expectant. He sat cross-legged on the ground and made a gesture for silence.

“Tobi,” he said, his voice laden with mana. It reached out across the hills to the fortress and city on the rocky coast. “Are you ready?”

Ready. His apprentice’s voice came back clearly if a bit exhausted. Not a single citizen remains in the fortress. Good luck.

In spite of himself, Samuel allowed a broad grin to cross his face. It was not a happy expression. It spoke of an ancient hunger, the longing to smite the enemies who had harmed his home. Even Edmund, the most taciturn of his men, shifted uncomfortably as he felt, for the first time, bloodlust roll over his commander. He took several steps to the side, yet was unable to tear his eyes away. He could sense as if seeing the guiding hand of Ahya herself, that something momentous was about to come.

“Let this serve as a lesson to our enemies,” Samuel said. His voice carried clearly over the silent, nervous force. “No matter how strong, no matter how vast, they cannot stand against our might. We defend our home with honor, and strike our enemies with fierce resolve.”

Muttered sounds of agreement and enthusiasm echoed his words. The men rose to their feet expectantly, watching their commander closely. Power radiated off of Samuel like a breeze, and they could feel it. Even the most obtuse among them could sense it now. They could sense the ancient power gathered in the man before them. They could sense the raw fury which had been contained, and would now be released. Samuel rose to his feet and met their eyes, his gleaming in the dim light of dawn. After what felt like an hour, he turned to face the fortress once more. He held his arms out and closed his eyes.

“Halika, mga linya ng kapangyarihan. Magsama-sama, at saktan ang aking mga kaaway.”

Come, lines of power. Converge, and smite my enemies.

The explosion that followed could not be heard, at first. It could only be seen. A vast sphere of light appeared, growing rapidly until it encompassed the entirety of the fortress. The men reeled away as the area was lit like the highest point of the day, covering their eyes against the sudden flash. Then came a faint ringing sound, almost beautiful in its eerie power. The shockwave that followed it was almost nothing at this distance, a gentle caress that followed such horrible destruction. When the light faded, they turned to peer, wide-eyed, at Jyrok. What they saw was a massive empty crater and a cloud of dust thrown high into the air. The fortress was no more.