A courier put down upon the tower, briefly kicking up a small gale of wind, and saluted. “Count Calderon, sir.”

Bernard didn’t take his eyes from the field ahead of him. “Report.”

The young man stood there, blinking uncertainly.

Amara sighed and beckoned him. He took a few tentative steps closer.

“There,” Amara said, once he was past the windcrafting she was maintaining to keep Bernard’s orders from being monitored by enemy crafters. “Can you hear now?”

“Oh,” said the courier, flushing. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Report,” said Bernard in exactly the same tone as before.

The young man looked mildly panicked. “Captain Miles’s compliments, sir, and there’s a sizeable enemy force moving to the north, sir, to circle around the end of the wall!”

“Hngh,” Bernard said. “Thank you.”

The young man’s eyes widened. “Um? Sir? Captain Miles is afraid that the enemy will turn our flank. There’s nearly a quarter mile of open ground at the end of the wall before it reaches the flank of the mountain.”

“And that’s a problem?”

“Sir!” the courier protested. “The wall isn’t finished, sir!”

Bernard bared his teeth in a wolfish smile. The leading wave of the vord was now dressing its ranks and preparing to charge. “The wall is exactly what it’s supposed to be, son.”

“But sir!”

Bernard paused to give the young man a hard look.

The courier wilted visibly.

Bernard nodded. “Return to Captain Miles, give him my compliments, and inform him that he is to stand fast. An allied contingent has been placed to support him should he need it.” He paused and looked at the young man. “Dismissed.”

The courier swallowed, saluted, then dived off the side of the tower. He managed to call up a windstream just before he hit the ground, then raced away to the north.

Amara looked at Bernard, and said, “Couldn’t you have told him more?”

“The fewer who know, the better.” He rested his hands on a merlon and nodded calmly as the vord began to move forward in unison. “Giraldi. Signal the mules to stand ready. Section leaders will give the command to begin.”

Giraldi’s voice bellowed down the wall as the ground began to rumble with the vord’s charge. The order was picked up and relayed down the line.

Bernard lifted his hand over his head and watched the oncoming enemy. Once again, as the vord closed to within a few yards, they let out a vast shriek that shook the walls, and once again, their cries clashed with those of the legionares upon the battlements. Bernard stood watching the nearest legionares intently as they lifted their javelins, and when the first of them threw, he snapped his arm forward, and screamed, “Loose!”

The mules went to work.