Gideon watched as Mordred's army worked like insects to bring themselves ashore in the Northern Bay. The cluster of so many large ships in the bay made it appear as though a floating city had been erected overnight. Mordred had brought such a force, Gideon wondered how they could ever be stopped by any means King Stephen might still possess. His overwhelming defeat at Emmanuel had left Wayland's king with precious few resources with which to wage war. Now war was coming to him instead.
The barges crowded the huge stretch of beach having been run as far aground as possible. Gideon had wondered how they would manage to unload their engines of war without them all sinking to the bottom of the bay, but now Mordred's genius shined through. The giants, whom he had seen housed within the walls of Emmanuel City, now served as the muscle to bring Mordred's barges closer to shore.
The big Anakims heaved upon huge sections of rope, at least two hundred per barge, dragging their vessels up, up, up until the bows sat upon the sand of Wayland's shore. With more work, the ropes were then attached to separate moorings upon the decks. Entire forward portions of each deck were then unlocked and pulled forward on hundreds of ball bearings.
The deck plates, reinforced with a meshwork of steel construction underneath, then were eased down to the shore upon the shoulders of the giants. In the end, each forward deck had been transformed into a massive ramp reaching almost completely to the solid ground beyond the beach.
The crew was now free to unload the engines of war fastened to the deck plates, rolling them forward as trees were quickly cleared in order to make a suitable path. A narrow dirt road, leading from the beach back through the trees and into the countryside beyond, was quickly transformed into a much widened thoroughfare. Catapults, great battering rams, and siege engines were assembled on deck and then rolled down to take up their places in an ever lengthening parade headed toward Wayland's capital city of Evelah.
Most of the Anakims had taken up the duty of clearing the way. With axe heads as big as a man, they cut down large trees as though hacking their way through mere brush. Others tossed or rolled the felled trees out of the way. With nearly a thousand of the giants all working to accomplish the tasks, in addition to the hybrid soldiers, the whole ordeal came off with startling efficiency.
Gideon watched it unfold for nearly two hours, himself fascinated by it and wondering what he might do to at least slow them down. So far he had been unable to come up with any good plan. Mordred's Man-o-wars had been, all this time, unloading the main company of soldiers and their provisions onto smaller, shore-going boats. The Man-o-wars remained anchored behind the line of barges in the harbor. But as the ships had been lightened of their burdens, Gideon noticed something new happening onboard.
The hybrid crews had refashioned the sail rigging into some sort of net system which was then suspended from each of the three masts. As Gideon watched, the crews then brought out and unfolded what Gideon first supposed to be sail cloth. But beneath the suspended cloth, fires had been lit in special stoves. The cloth began to fill with hot air and rise up from the decks of the Man-o-wars.
Gideon still did not realize what Mordred was doing by the time the cloth had ballooned up into the nets. The material continued its expansion, with the flaming stoves stoked hot beneath them, until the canvas had billowed higher than the masts themselves and threatened to burst the nets which had been fabricated to hold them. Then, to Gideon's complete astonishment, one of the Man-o-wars began to rise up out of the water.
Water cascaded down from the ship's hull as the sea going vessel left its native habitat to take up residence in the atmosphere. It rose steadily higher until the ship was nearly as high as the surrounding trees. The other Man-o-wars began to do the same-each filling its sail cloth sacks with hot air and leaving the sea for the clouds.
Upon each of the Man-o-wars, smaller sections of sail sprang out from both the starboard and port sides at mid-ship. Rotating fans of wood were mounted near the flanking sails and wind cranked into them by mechanisms working deep inside the ship. The Man-o-wars, now airborne, launched forward under their own wind, gliding forward effortlessly above the treetops toward the city of Evelah.
They weren't fast, by any means, but that wouldn't change the fact that they would reach Wayland's capital much faster than the rest of the army. And if Mordred had devised these new craft for his attack, then there must be a great deal of danger in them. Gideon watched them, fascinated, for a moment longer before realizing that all of the small villages he had seen during his trek here would certainly be destroyed as the ground army moved toward the main city.
Thirty floating, flying Man-o-wars passed out of sight beyond the trees as the Anakims continued their labor below, allowing the ground army to make headway toward Evelah. Gideon had only one choice. He had to ride as fast as he could in order to reach each village and warn them in time to escape. Before the swords of this army, there would be no one spared, no pity, and no remorse.
Gideon hadn't been as fast as he had hoped. He'd not been close to the road leading back into Wayland, opting for a vantage point on the Isthmus where he could better see what was in the bay. That advantage had cost him his ability to get ahead of the surging front of Mordred's forces.
Still, under the cover of the forest, Gideon had managed to pass the slower progress of the giant Anakims as they moved a great swathe of trees from the path of the army following behind them. But cavalry had ridden ahead of everyone else and were already plundering the first village in their path when Gideon arrived on horseback.
Many bodies of the villagers lay strewn in the road among the two dozen or so common structures, some of which had been set ablaze already. The hybrid soldiers were busy killing everything that moved. Mordred would have no use for prisoners, only the cattle and horses that might be added to his army's stores.
As Gideon breached the tree line, he nocked and released arrows in rapid succession until his quiver was spent. Each broad-head shaft found its mark true, leaving more than a dozen ponies running wild without their riders. Still wearing most of his stolen Wayland armor, Gideon drew quick attention to himself among the villagers running terrified around him.
Two riders approached from among several huts already burning. Both of them archers, they drew and released arrows at Gideon. He backhanded the first away and caught the second in the same hand. He felt alive again, renewed, forgiven.
Gideon knocked the arrow and returned it to the rider who had shot it at him. He drew his sword as the second rider drove his horse hard toward him. Gideon waited for the man to swing, fell backward in his saddle to dodge the broadsword, then followed through by rolling backward off the hind quarters of his horse, coming to stand below the other rider. Before the hybrid soldier realized where he was, Gideon struck him in stomach from below. The rider sagged in his saddle, trying to fall, but his boot remained lodged as his terrified horse dragged him away from the village.
Only a few riders remained. Most of them had realized by now that their fellows were dropping like flies. They ignored the villagers and came at Gideon head on. He ran on foot to meet them. Each of the three raised their swords, preparing to strike him down.
Gideon raised his own blade over his head and sent it spinning toward the rider on his left. The sword hit the hybrid square in the chest, knocking him from his mount. Gideon dodged to his left side, as the others closed in, retrieving the soldier's sword as it tumbled to the ground from his hands. He whipped around and slung that sword at the second rider, catching the hybrid in the side.
Gideon retrieved his own sword from the chest of the first as the third rider came at him. However the soldier had second thoughts after seeing how his fellows had faired. He pulled up short, leered at Gideon and then rode hard back down the road toward Mordred's advancing army. They wouldn't be far behind now.
As he surveyed the damage, Gideon realized he'd come too late to save most of the villagers. Only a few could be found weeping among their fallen loved ones. He procured a fresh horse and heaved himself into the saddle. "Mordred's army is on its way!" he called to anyone left who might listen. "In moments this place will be reduced to rubble! You must get away!"
Gideon turned his horse to the dirt road leading back into Wayland. With a kick of his heels to the animal's sides, they broke into a gallop. At least, he might have a chance to warn the other villages which still stood between Mordred's army and Wayland's king.