The sniper's shot was the spark. The Remnant convoy roared to life, the lead armored truck lurching forward, its heavy tires churning the earth as it aimed directly for the main gate. Just as Rex predicted. They were playing their part.
From the walls, a tense silence held. Rex watched, his hand raised. He could feel the fear radiating from the defenders, a mix of his own people and the Vanguard. They were facing a ghost of the old world, a monster of metal and technology.
"Hold..." he murmured, his voice carrying on the still air. "Hold..."
The truck picked up speed, a battering ram on wheels. At fifty yards, he could see the driver behind the reinforced windshield.
"Now!"
His hand swept down.
From the gatehouse battlement, Kaelen and her team used long, iron-tipped poles to heave the first massive cauldron. A waterfall of boiling, viscous oil cascaded down the front of the gate and splashed across the ground directly in the truck's path.
The effect was instantaneous and horrifying. The truck hit the slick, its tires losing all purchase. It slewed violently to the side, its front grille smashing into the stone wall with a deafening crash of rending metal, just shy of the gate itself. Steam and the stench of hot oil filled the air.
"Archers! Fire arrows! Volley one, on the engines!" Rex commanded.
A wave of arrows, their tips wrapped in oil-soaked rags and set ablaze, arched over the walls. They clattered against the armored hulls of the stationary trucks, most bouncing off harmlessly. But a few found their marks—ventilation grilles, fuel intake ports. On the second truck, a flicker of flame caught, then grew, licking hungrily at the engine block.
A cheer started on the walls but was cut short as the Remnant infantry moved. They didn't panic. They advanced in a disciplined, crouching run, using the disabled vehicles for cover. Their rifles barked, a staccato rhythm of modern warfare that was utterly alien against the stone backdrop. Chips of stone flew from the battlements where rounds impacted.
"Keep their heads down!" Marius yelled from his position on the wall, his Vanguard archers adding their fire to Avalon's.
Then came the drones. They zipped over the wall, their cameras scanning, their non-lethal emitters firing precise, painful blasts. A defender cried out, dropping his crossbow as his arm went numb.
This was the critical moment. The feint.
Rex gave the signal. At the lower, "weaker" section of the wall, defenders began to fall back, scrambling down the inner ladders with apparent panic. They ran, as if routed.
The Remnant commander took the bait. A whistle blew, and a squad of his soldiers broke cover, sprinting for the abandoned section of the wall. They placed a compact breaching charge against the stone. A sharp crump sent dust and debris flying, creating a ragged, passable hole.
With triumphant shouts, the Remnant soldiers poured through the breach.
And into the trap.
They found themselves in a narrow killing ground, the main inner keep wall rising before them, and the outer wall they had just breached at their backs. From both walls, a storm of death descended. Crossbow bolts, heavy stones, and javelins rained down on them from above. They were caught in a crossfire, their modern rifles useless against enemies they couldn't see, protected by high stone.
It was a slaughter. In minutes, the squad was annihilated.
The Remnant assault faltered. The drones, their primary infantry support decimated, withdrew. The burning truck cast a pall of black smoke over the battlefield. The Remnant commander, realizing his tactical blunder and the unexpected ferocity of the defense, sounded a retreat. The remaining soldiers fell back to their vehicles, dragging their wounded with them.
As the sounds of battle faded, replaced by the moans of the wounded and the crackle of the burning truck, a new sound rose from the walls of Avalon. It wasn't a cheer. It was a deep, guttural roar of triumph and defiance from hundreds of throats—Avalon and Vanguard as one.
They had held. They had bloodied the nose of the future.
Rex looked out at the retreating forces, his sword still in his hand. The first battle was over. But the war for their future had just begun.