I
unlimbered my spear from its cradle in my arm. The other two sat crossed across
my back, molded as always to my armor but ready to be released. I scanned the
long line of the top of the wall for targets, three hundred paces out in
darkness and lashing rain. The shooting would be miserable.
“Artillery
refocus fire!” Marcus bellowed to his thousand disks. “Northeast wall, southern
city!”
A line of figures running along the
top of the wall, silhouettes brought out by a flash of lightning, the long rods
of lightspears in their hands. I swung my lightspear up to rest against my
shoulder.
The
artillery whined behind me, as their motors turned their disks back toward the
southern city.
The
figures reached the corner of the wall and stopped, peering outward in the
driving rain. They raised their own lightspears, facing in the wrong direction,
down the valley toward the bay. I counted three of them. I sighted along the
barrel.
The
artillery hissed in the background, charging up for their bombardment.
This
probably wasn’t going to matter, I thought. I’m going to miss. And the disks will
blow them away before they figured out what happened. In the corner of my
vision, below the city, I thought I saw the darkness move. Were there more dark
forms, hunched against the incline along the ground?
The
artillery spat out their suns.
Atop
the wall, the three Augers did not all raise their lightspears at the same
speed. The furthest out along the wall was fast and uncertain, his aim wavering
even to my distant eye. The second was calmer and sure, moving as I moved. The
one to the rear moved too slowly and could not seem to see what the others saw.
I aimed for the second in the line.
The
orbs of light arched over my head, illuminating the wall and the rain and the
Augers in noontime glow. I picked my spot: his ear. My eyes traced the
individual drops of rain as they fell. The black armor of the Augers glistened.
I gently squeezed the barrel.
No comments:
Post a Comment