Devan

Devan lurked just out of view of the ‘open gates’ and watched as the barbarian army marched toward them. The midday sun blinded his eyes so he had to shield them with one hand as he studied their approach. He could see them go from double time to half, then quarter time as they slowed their pace even further. Their scouting party not returning had likely made them cautious, hence the slower approach. They weren’t marching in neat rows, not like his own countrymen would move. Some were mounted, some were not, moving like a flock of birds toward a destination.

They did not like the look of that open gate, that was for certain. They eyed it warily, not sure what to make of it, and clearly fearing an ambush. Good. Let ’em.

Devan didn’t think this plan would entirely work. He hoped and prayed it did, but it hinged on a number of factors. First, how determined the barbarians were in raiding the town and pushing further south. Second, how much they bought the ruse. They were a fearless people that enjoyed war and looting, so it would take something more significant than the loss of some soldiers to deter them. They’d suffered severe losses at this town before and failed to get past it. That memory should be in the forefront of their minds right now.

But those previous times, the Goodwine army had been here to battle them back in a strong show of force. It was not in evidence today. That was the weak point of Devan’s plan.

He held his breath and prayed for a miracle.

As predetermined, the drums stopped as soon as the bulk of the army was in sight. That unnerved them, too. Devan eyed their body language, not able to tell if this was working or not. He had a bad feeling it wasn’t.

Shit. Come on, just turn back….

Not happening. With a war cry, those mounted lifted their weapons high in the air above their heads and charged.

Fucking hell, why— Even as Devan cursed the situation soundly in his head, he readied the crossbow in his hands. Tan had enchanted it and every other crossbow in the guardsmen’s hands, giving them a boost, each bolt now more powerful and accurate than before. Devan used it now with unerring accuracy, taking down one of the front riders. Its boost unseated the rider closest to her in a concussive blast of air.

Well, now. Devan might need to keep this. It had a rather nice punch.

A grin lingered on his face as he grabbed a bolt from his pouch and cocked the lever once more. He wasn’t the only one firing, every other guardsman firing at will with the same devastating results.

Tan, from his balcony perch above Devan’s head, let out a curse in his native tongue. Devan didn’t speak a word but had a feeling the barbarian’s intelligence, ancestry, and prowess in bed were all being called into question. His ears caught the sound of something sailing over his head in a high arch.

Just what— Oh. Right, Tan had brought explosive elements. Devan had almost forgotten that.

Not small explosions, either; it left quite the crater as it struck hard in the middle of the charging ranks. Men and horses were thrown to either side with screeches of surprise and pain. Those that could, scrambled back to their feet and scattered off the road, lurching for the relative safety of the field. Those that couldn’t, lay there either dead or gasping in ragged bursts of air.

Devan felt only sympathy for the townspeople who would be forced to either burn their bodies or bury them later. The barbarians had rather asked for this.

He expected the explosion, at least, to deter them. This wasn’t exactly common on a battlefield, although the court sorcerers would march with the army and render such aid if the conflict’s scale was large enough. Sadly, it only seemed to enrage the barbarians. With another guttural war cry, the next in line hurled themselves forward, although not as clumped together as the first wave had been. They’d either learned from their comrades’ mistake or were trying to avoid the dead and the dying on the ground.

Could be both.

Frankly, Devan didn’t care. He did care that he didn’t have enough bolts to fell an entire army, dammit, and this would take all day at this rate.

Tan lobbed another explosion before complaining loudly, “Can’t they take a fucking hint? Go AWAY! You’re not wanted, you’re screwing up my whole day, and there’s someone else I would rather be screwing!”

Devan could not have said it better himself.

Wait.

He turned to look up suspiciously. He wouldn’t be what Tan would rather be screwing…? Okay, that was a stupid question. Nix that.

Putting bolts into enemies was a much safer thing to do. He’d just do that. Yeah.

Tan lobbed a third explosion, to the same devastating effect of the first two, but it wasn’t slowing the approach of the army down by much. As soon as they could either ride or hop over their fallen comrades, they charged for the gate.

Fucking hell. The enemy had lost a good two hundred people so far and still they charged? Just how determined were these bastards? Devan wanted to cry. Angry tears, mostly.

Tan lobbed yet another explosion, but it didn’t hit as many people, as they were spread out over the field now and heading for the walls. They got picked off mostly by the guardsmen firing madly away, but it was a matter of time before someone made it over.

Devan wished he could think of something brilliant to do in this situation. Some tactic to employ that would win the day. Something to make the barbarians want to retreat. Nothing occurred to him. They just didn’t have enough personnel, or time, or even a damn gate, to turn the tide. Even Tan, with all his brilliance, would run out of magic long before they ran out of enemies.

What to do….