Chapter 7 - Rain of Fire
The lower market square was filled with smoke, fire, and the deafening roars of catapults. Prince Adrian stood on a wooden command platform, his face illuminated by the bright orange glow of the burning buildings.
"More pitch!" Adrian urged, a manic smile on his face. "Bury them! Burn the entire district to ash!"
Suddenly, a high-pitched whistling sound cut through the roar of the flames.
THWACK!
An arrow struck the main rope winch of the central catapult. The thick, twisted hemp rope snapped with a sound like a cannon shot. The heavy wooden arm of the catapult whipped forward prematurely, slamming into its own iron frame and exploding into a shower of dangerous splinters.
"What was that?!" Adrian screamed, spinning around. "Where did that come from?"
High above the market square, perched on the steeply pitched slate roofs of the surrounding three-story buildings, stood William, Brandon, and thirty archers of the Silver Legion.
They moved like ghosts against the dark night sky, their dark cloaks blending into the shadows.
"Fire at will!" Brandon commanded softly.
A synchronized volley of thirty arrows rained down from the rooftops. Each arrow was tipped with special iron-piercing points.
THACK! THACK! THACK!
The artillery crews went down instantly, struck through their iron shoulder guards and helmets. The remaining soldiers panicked, looking frantically up at the sky.
"On the roofs!" a captain screamed. "They’re on the roofs! Archers, return fire!"
Royal crossbowmen tried to aim upward, but the steep angle and the thick rising smoke made targeting almost impossible.
William moved along the edge of a roof with terrifying grace. He didn't just fire static shots; he moved, notched, drawn, and released in one seamless, continuous motion. Every single arrow he fired found its mark—taking out weapon levers, severing horse reins to prevent cavalry charges, and striking the weapons out of soldiers' hands.
"That boy!" Adrian shrieked, spotting William's small silhouette against the full moon. "BRING DOWN THAT BUILDING!"
Two royal soldiers pointed a heavy, iron-tipped ballista directly at the base of the building William was standing on. They pulled the trigger.
BOOM!
A massive, five-foot iron bolt slammed into the support pillars of the timber-framed building. The structure groaned violently, cracking in half, and began to tilt dangerously into the burning alleyway below.
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"WILLIAM!" Brandon yelled, sprinting across a neighboring roof.
The roof beneath William’s feet shattered. He lost his footing, sliding down the steep, crumbling slate tiles toward the roaring fire forty feet below!
