B3 Chapter 46: The Toob

The men rushed to fall into a defensive formation as Quintus and his scout raced down the slope. By the time they reached the clearing, they’d already managed to form up most of the way, and Quintus silently approved of their speed.

It was a rather standard defensive box that made use of the choke points in the natural formation well. Readily defensible, especially given that the men had prepared for their position to be discovered at some point. They even had a few hidden avenues for retreat prepared, just in case.

The problem was, Quintus didn’t want to retreat. Given the number of men present, the unfinished states of these stone siege engines, and the difficulty of the terrain, doing so would require them to leave the complex pieces of equipment behind. And while Quintus was confident that the engineers could reach this point in their construction much more quickly a second time, even that would take time—time they may not have.

“Inform Gaius we’re under attack!” The centurion commanded the scout, barreling down the last few feet of slope as though he were on flat ground. He didn’t spare the man another glance before shouting out more orders, making adjustments to the formation and shifting men about as he saw where [Tactician’s Awareness] and his instincts informed him the fighting would be most intense.

The sea of incoming attackers split into rough groups as they neared, each moving to jam themselves into a chokepoint. The Legionnaires met their approach with volleys of sling stones, since ammunition was plentiful around here, then raised their shields for the enemy to crash into. The [Coordinated Bulwark] shield wall extended between chokepoints, connecting them all to a singular hole in order to better make use of the skill’s defense-amplifying properties. The move meant that not all of their men were in a position to strike, but the effective reduction in numbers was worth it.

The air filled with the now familiar hoots and howls of the green-skinned barbarians. Metal and stone clashed with a deafening roar as the enemy made contact. These orcs looked slightly different from those they’d seen before, their skin painted shades of brown and black that marched the craggy landscape around. Most of them wielded spears and rough daggers of some kind, though he did note a few of what appeared to be crude bows as well.

Despite their appearance, however, they fought with the same fervor as the rest. They hammered at the Legion’s defenses relentlessly. Bodies began to clog up the chokepoints, making a continued assault even more difficult. Yet to Quintus’s surprise, the orcs didn’t stay where they were. They began to pull back, almost as though they were baiting the Legionnaires out of position.

Quintus’s eyes narrowed. The attempt was clumsy, and his men disciplined enough that no one fell for it. Still, between that and the overall positioning of the orcish forces, it was clear that someone was trying to combine their overwhelming numbers with actual tactics. It was just like during the attack on Novara.

Yet given how rough the execution was, he couldn’t help but believe that the commander responsible wasn’t actually among their enemy. The orcs proved unwilling or unable to exercise much more than basic strategies, even in response to the changing conditions of the battlefield. It was a bit of a relief, though Quintus was confident in the defensibility of their position regardless.

Still, the realization did have more problematic implications. It meant that these forces had likely been sent from the makeshift city inside of which the entirety of the orcish race seemed to be gathering, rather than having simply run across the Legion by chance. And that meant that this would not be an isolated attack. Once they repelled this assault, he was all but certain another would be on its way shortly after—a much larger one to do the job properly. After all, even if the Legionnaires killed a hundred or a thousand orcs for every loss they took, they were outnumbered by a force several times larger than that. They’d be wiped out well before the orcs, drowned by numbers alone.

Quintus glanced over to the scout, who had returned to his side. “Do we still have eyes on the main encampment?”

“Yes, Primus. No major movements. I don’t know how these ones got so far without us noticing.”

He nodded. “See if you can find out. Tell me the instant something looks off. I don’t want to be surprised again.”

There may have been some sort of trickery at play regarding their approach. Then again, it was entirely possible that the orcs had just managed to use the landscape to their advantage. The sheer number of rock formations and blind corners made it all but impossible to keep tabs on everywhere at once, even with the scouts’ impressive suite of skills. Even now, these ones appeared a bit more stealthy than their brethren, though that subtlety went out the window during the heat of battle.

Whatever the case, Quintus didn’t have time to think about it now. Instead, he turned his focus to the battle at hand.

They couldn’t afford to lose men here. Not just because of the threat of a secondary force on the way, either. Winning this singular battle wouldn’t bring them much closer to winning the war. But losing it, or even allowing it to wear them down? That could prove lethal.

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But even with their escape routes clear, retreating as things were would be a difficult proposition. A fighting retreat always yielded casualties. At minimum, they’d need to thin the enemy’s numbers before trying it.

Quintus rushed over to a group of the engineers and earth manipulators where they stood in the line, motioning for them to be rotated out. “The siege weapons. Are they operational?”

One of the men grimaced. “Partly. Some of them.”

“We haven’t had a chance to test them,” another objected. “They’re liable to explode as soon as they’re activated!”

The first shook his head. “Not the sling tubes. Those are the closest we’ve got to something functional. Though how long they’ll last…”

The men argued back and forth for a moment before Quintus interrupted. He pointed toward the orcs. “So long as they explode in that direction. We need to cut those numbers down, and fast. Get the ones you can firing.”

He saw a few pained expressions, but the men nodded. The line shifted around as a few more of their brethren were pulled away to ready the weapons. In moments, a small group of stone tubes were being lugged up the mountainside, assisted by a hastily erected collection of pulleys and some creative terraforming.

It took a few minutes before they were in position. The weapons stood just high enough up to give them a clear shot toward the orcs without hitting the Legionnaires below. The stone tubes rotated to face their open ends toward the enemy, angling down before being fixed in position.

Quintus watched as a pair of Legionnaires placed their hands on the tubes as a third loaded a large stone into its mouth. The runic script lining the “sling tubes” glowed briefly. Then, a crack split the air.

The stones hurtled forward with blinding speed. The ones that made impact with the orcs tore through their ranks, reducing an entire line into bloody pulp. A few others went slightly off-course, smashing into the mountains above and raining down showers of sharp stone.

A second volley was fired after a few adjustments. This time, nearly all of the super-sized sling stones hit their intended targets, smashing into the orcs with devastating effect. A tenth of the enemy’s forces were neutralized in a handful of seconds.

Again and again, the cacophony of the firing siege weapons split the air as a hail of boulders hammered the orcs. The barrage quickly thinned out their ranks, reducing the press of bodies into a far more manageable force. But it wasn’t long before the cracks started to show.

Thin fractures began to spread across the surface of one of the tubes. Quintus saw one of the engineers run forward, waving his hands frantically. The sling tube ceased its fire, followed shortly after by the others as they also began to break down. But they had done their job.

Quintus could only stare in awe at the devastation. The battle had practically stopped in the wake of the rocks firing, earning the Legion a short breather. The engineers used the opportunity to rush forward and inspect the weapons carefully as though they were precious works of art.

Someone tapped on Quintus’s arm. It was one of the scouts, his mouth moving soundlessly. The centurion’s ears still rang from the concussive blasts, rendering the man’s voice muffled and indistinct. It reminded him of how he’d felt after spending the day around Blacksmith Gareth’s proteges when they’d finally gotten their forges running. He worked his jaw and tapped the side of his head until his hearing slowly returned.

“—mus!”

“I hear you,” Quintus practically shouted, shifting his helmet and working his finger in his ear until his words were true.

“The Legatus is on his way with reinforcements. More orcs are beginning to mobilize, as well. He wants you to prepare an exit strategy while he commands the defense.”

Quintus nodded. As much as he hadn’t wanted to abandon this position, the situation had changed. They no longer would be leaving behind operable weaponry, and if there was a larger force on the way, staying here would all but guarantee they’d be cut off and surrounded. This was their best chance to retreat, regroup, and reposition.

Fortunately, the narrow passes that composed their escape routes would be relatively simple to block off behind them. And while such obstacles wouldn’t last, they should slow the enemy enough.

“Pull back!” Quintus shouted. He imbued the simple command with his intent, allowing it to convey a far more detailed plan to the men. The other centurions began barking orders of their own to move the Legionnaires before more orcs appeared.

He turned to the engineers that still manned their siege weapons. “Engineers! Move!”

One of the men looked up from the sling tube he’d been inspecting. “Sir, the weapons—”

“Leave them. We’ll rebuild them somewhere less contested.” He jerked his chin towards one of the passes. “Go!”

Despite their obvious dissatisfaction, they moved to comply. Quintus saw a number of pained expressions as a group of men quickly worked to deactivate the remaining siege engines, ensuring they didn’t fall into enemy hands. Purple runes fizzled out as the complex enchantments that lined their barrels were scratched out and drained of power. Some of the engineers flinched away from the sight as though it physically pained them.

A series of warcries cut through the air—this time, from above. Quintus’s head snapped up just in time to see a dozen screaming orcs leap down from one of the rock formations above, seemingly materializing out of the stone itself.

He twisted on instinct to stab upward with his spear, taking one in the stomach and hurling it to the ground. He spun just in time to take another’s head off as he drew his gladius. Around him, similar scenes played out as the other Legionnaires met the sudden ambush. Some of the orcs rose as they landed, snarling and charging forth as though they’d merely fallen a few feet rather than hundreds.

Quintus scowled. “Change of plans. You, you, and you,” he said, indicating a few of the centurions. “Have your centuries clear the mountains above. Everyone else, hold the line until we can regroup with the Legatus’s reinforcements.”

He raised his gladius once more and lunged at the nearest berserk orc, the blade flashing through the air.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep