Marius raised his arm.

“Funditores!” Slingers.

The stones whipped out, a hailstorm of stone bullets. There was a crackle as the projectiles hit home, ants thrown back or tumbling to the ground.

Men cheered at the sight. Yet even as they did so, ants returned to their feet. Their carapaces were cracked, and they followed slowly behind those that had not been hit, but they came on regardless. Few remained motionless on the ground.

“Pilorum!”

Now, the men pitched their javelins with all their might, a mass of dark poles whipping into the sky. They rose, rose, then tilted and fell, pattering like heavy rain on the oncoming horde.

Again, the sound of projectiles striking home, this time quieter than before. Yet to Cade’s horror, few ants were knocked from their feet. Javelins glanced from their shells, or struck and fell away, leaving shallow dents that seemed to hardly hurt at all.

“Funditores, iterum!” Slingers, again.

More sling stones buzzed across the field, but the ants were close now. Their insectile feet tripped and stumbled over the sharp spikes hidden in the ground, yet that was all they did—slow them.

As for the rows of stakes, their great pincers snapped them as easily as stalks of grass, mowing them aside before pushing through the stumps left behind.

Still, the slingers worked, almost every soldier on the rampart. Only the old contenders did not take part, instead hurling spare javelins, though they did little good.

Now, the first ants reached the base of the wall, mandibles clattering as they looked up. But to Cade’s horror, the beasts did not climb as he had expected. Instead, they began to claw at the walls, their crab-like claws scraping into the ancient concrete.

The first boulders were pushed from the ramparts, thudding into mud and ants in a deluge of rockfall. Marius bellowed at men to hold back, but panic had set in to them, having seen the ineffectualness of their weapons.

Of the hundred or so ants that had crossed into the bone fields, only ten had fallen in their journey to the walls. Now, ants massed at the bottom, beating their mandibles and claws, corkscrewing them like drills as chips of mortar and stone dusted the bodies of those behind.

Rocks fell and fell again, punching great holes in the insectile mass beneath. These, it seemed, put the ants down for good, as prehensile limbs twitched and black ichor sprayed high at the impact.

And then, the second row of ants began to climb. They clambered over the diggers with ease, their claws finding purchase in the crumbling facade.

Men screamed, pushing the last of the boulders, the angle too tight to use their slings. By now, almost half the enemy’s number was gone.

Beneath him, Cade saw the first opponent clamber just outside sword range, close enough for him to see the hexagons of its eyes. It chattered its mandibles and scrambled toward him, pincers snapping.

Cade speared down, two handed, his blade slipping over the hard surface of its chitinous head and into a geometric eye. The beast froze, its claws deep in the wall. Then it plummeted to the ground.