Chapter 57

"This must be nerve-racking. Never underestimate a psychic attack. But we'll stand our ground, we'll wait," Leonid smirked satisfactorily.

The exhausting blows from the forest had been sounding for about an hour now and were more irritating than toothache. The Count was seriously considering a sortie, but each time he remembered the unfortunate fate of the detachment that had been destroyed a couple of nights ago.

This circumstance prevented him from making such a rash move. The mages forced the savages to retreat into the forest, but apparently didn't inflict any damage on them. The Count sat near the tent and drank a hot herbal drink in the company of a knight.

"Sir," the approaching centurion looked too cheerful for the current circumstances and time. The old soldier, who had been in many battles, apparently didn't suffer from mental torment, "the perimeter fires will soon go out. Shall I send soldiers?"

The Count cursed.

"It's a bad decision, but there's no other choice," the centurion, seeing his lord's hesitation, allowed himself some liberty.

The Count looked at the knight. After taking a sip from his cup, the knight glanced toward the forest.

"These savages haven't used any ranged weapons. The soldiers will manage to escape."

The Count spat on the ground. To participate in a dozen battles, to distinguish himself before His Majesty, to be the first to break into the rebels' camp—and all for what? To sit like this at night, in the middle of the forest, and fear some savages who don't even wear clothes?

"Send the men. The fires must burn!"

"It will be done, Your Grace!"

The knight took another sip and remembered his horse, left at the pass. It was a pity for his faithful friend...

The soldiers with firewood, leaving the fortifications, were clearly visible against the illuminated camp. This moment had been agreed upon beforehand, and no one immediately attacked them. Only when they reached the almost extinguished campfires did "fire arrows" fly out of the forest and hit their targets.

Next, the warriors standing on the watchtowers were destroyed. Chaos erupted in the camp. They sincerely believed that the enemy was only on one side, but now it turned out that the camp was essentially under siege, and the attackers even had mages. Leonid waited until the fires had completely died out and ordered the "horde" to come out of the forest again. It was time to start the second stage.

As soon as the sounds of the blows ceased, one of the mages immediately sent a "fire arrow" into the forest. The spell missed, but illuminated the ranks of the enemy emerging from the forest. Without waiting for a command, the other mages fired volleys.

One of them decided to replace the useless "fire arrow" and struck with a "fire spear"—an energy-intensive spell, so he could only cast about a dozen such charms, after which he needed to rest for several hours, especially since he had been casting "fire arrows" before that. But at least he didn't do it in vain.

The shield of the attacking creature shattered into burning pieces, and its body flew back into the second row of its friends. It was clear that it was no longer alive, the burns were too severe. The young mage was pleased that he had not been lazy to study not only ordinary spells for his power, like "fire arrow", but also spent nights memorizing "fire spear".

After casting eleven more similar spells, he inflicted visible damage on the attackers. It remained to be hoped that the enemy would flinch. The mage himself was carried back to the center of the camp—he was suffering from magical exhaustion, as he had exerted himself fully.

The knight responsible for defending the wall only watched the procession with displeasure. Damn idiot, who fully exerts himself when the battle hasn't even properly begun. The mages should be taken back to the center, what if there's another idiot among them.

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