Then… nothing.
Of course there was no wall. That had been simply a construct, a fashioning in Bottle's mind to manifest an idea into something physical. Something that he could then breach.
Simple, really. Just incredibly dangerous. We damned mages must be mad, to play with this, to persist in the conceit that it can be managed, shaped, twisted by will alone.
Power is blood.
Blood is power.
And this blood, it belongs to an Elder God…
A hiss from Cuttle. He blinked, then nodded as he began shaping the sorcery of Meanas. Mists, shot through with inky gloom, spreading out across the rough ground, snaking among the rubble, and the sappers set out, plunged into it, and moved on, unseen.
Bottle followed a few paces behind. The soldiers hiding in that magic could see. Nothing of the illusion confounded their senses. Illusions were usually one- or at best two-sided; seen from the other sides, well, there was nothing to see. True masters, of course, could cheat light in all directions, could fashion something that looked physically real, that moved as it should, casting its own shadow, even scuffing up illusional dust. Bottle's level of skill was nowhere near that. Balgrid had managed it – barely, it was true, but still… impressive.
But I hate this kind of sorcery. Sure, it's fascinating. Fun to play with, on occasion, but not like tonight, not when it's suddenly life and death.
They threw wagon-planks across the narrow moat Leoman's soldiers had dug, then drew closer to the wall.
****
Lostara Yil came to Tene Baralta's side. They were positioned at the picket line, behind them the massed ranks of soldiery. Her former commander's face revealed surprise as he looked upon her.
'I did not think to see you again, Captain.'
She shrugged. 'I was getting fat and lazy, Commander.'
'That Claw you were with is not a popular man. The decision was made that he was better off staying in his tent – indefinitely.'
'I have no objection to that.'
Through the gloom they could see swirling clouds of deeper darkness, rolling ominously towards the city's wall.
'Are you prepared, Captain,' Baralta asked, 'to bloody your sword this night?'
'More than you could imagine, Commander.'