Nichol finally reached the wall separating Lycia from Bern; this was no doubt the boundary of the Lycians' pursuit. The heavy spear was getting heavier and heavier with each step, but the sand, grass, and shrubs everywhere weren't exactly prime terrain for finding weapons laying on the ground, so Nichol decided that he would have to deal with it.
"Wait!" An ally soldier, younger than Nichol, tried to stop him. "Y-You shouldn't go past the wall! Anything beyond that's Bernese land. And there might be guards, or..."
"As far as I know, we were ordered not to pass the border," Nichol replied, eying the stocky lad whose armor was more charred than not. "Long as we don't do that or get any other orders, we're fine. Now let's see if we can block that gate." He was already hustling toward the gaping entrance in the wall through which most of the Etrurians had already passed. How many would they be able to stop, and what number would make a meaningful difference?
Several arrows shocking his armor or whizzing by him, Nichol knew immediately that this idea was not the smartest. A mystic ran by him, and he barred the mage's path with the heavy spear and began wrestling him to submission, but for every mage he and the other soldier stopped, five more escaped. The cover-fire provided by the irregulars already behind the gate was relentless as well, a few hooded heads even appearing atop the wall. Must not be many guards then, Nichol thought as he imagined that the Bernese would not consent to their wall being used by either of the warring parties here.
Maybe if a sizable amount of Lycian soldiers had chosen to remain at the border's edge, plugging the gate could have been viable, but with only several stragglers left it was suicidal. The other soldier with Nichol seemed to realise this as well, but he abandoned the gate too late as the rest of his armor was burned to a crisp. Nichol found himself reduced to crawling and rolling in the long grass, hoping that the fireballs homing in on him would lose their target soon. Aware of his armor catching fire along with the grass, he stumbled to his feet and abandoned hiding to attempt to run again.
As he reached some woods, Nichol dusted off the tiny smouldering embers that remained on his armor, not worrying about the fact that they would likely start a brush fire, since fires were a foregone conclusion when mages were involved anywhere. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping him moving, he guessed as he eyed an armored knight— Yves— jogging from a smoky hill toward the wood along a path... no, it wasn't a path. It was several sets of footprints, barely visible in the transition from sand to grass to leaves. "Hey! Knight!" he called as the armored knight, who probably outranked Nichol easily, began to reach the area. "How many?" He glanced at the footprints leading deeper into the woods, not having to finish the question. He could count the sets of footprints, yes, but there could be rebels who'd entered the wood from another direction, or carrying one another, or some other thing that would not contribute to the footprints here.
(("on the run to Bern's wall" = reference for there being a wall. If there's not a big enough wall, I'll just delete the wall bit))
"Wait!" An ally soldier, younger than Nichol, tried to stop him. "Y-You shouldn't go past the wall! Anything beyond that's Bernese land. And there might be guards, or..."
"As far as I know, we were ordered not to pass the border," Nichol replied, eying the stocky lad whose armor was more charred than not. "Long as we don't do that or get any other orders, we're fine. Now let's see if we can block that gate." He was already hustling toward the gaping entrance in the wall through which most of the Etrurians had already passed. How many would they be able to stop, and what number would make a meaningful difference?
Several arrows shocking his armor or whizzing by him, Nichol knew immediately that this idea was not the smartest. A mystic ran by him, and he barred the mage's path with the heavy spear and began wrestling him to submission, but for every mage he and the other soldier stopped, five more escaped. The cover-fire provided by the irregulars already behind the gate was relentless as well, a few hooded heads even appearing atop the wall. Must not be many guards then, Nichol thought as he imagined that the Bernese would not consent to their wall being used by either of the warring parties here.
Maybe if a sizable amount of Lycian soldiers had chosen to remain at the border's edge, plugging the gate could have been viable, but with only several stragglers left it was suicidal. The other soldier with Nichol seemed to realise this as well, but he abandoned the gate too late as the rest of his armor was burned to a crisp. Nichol found himself reduced to crawling and rolling in the long grass, hoping that the fireballs homing in on him would lose their target soon. Aware of his armor catching fire along with the grass, he stumbled to his feet and abandoned hiding to attempt to run again.
As he reached some woods, Nichol dusted off the tiny smouldering embers that remained on his armor, not worrying about the fact that they would likely start a brush fire, since fires were a foregone conclusion when mages were involved anywhere. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping him moving, he guessed as he eyed an armored knight— Yves— jogging from a smoky hill toward the wood along a path... no, it wasn't a path. It was several sets of footprints, barely visible in the transition from sand to grass to leaves. "Hey! Knight!" he called as the armored knight, who probably outranked Nichol easily, began to reach the area. "How many?" He glanced at the footprints leading deeper into the woods, not having to finish the question. He could count the sets of footprints, yes, but there could be rebels who'd entered the wood from another direction, or carrying one another, or some other thing that would not contribute to the footprints here.
(("on the run to Bern's wall" = reference for there being a wall. If there's not a big enough wall, I'll just delete the wall bit))