Actual smoke.
Itch and hot in her nose and throat.
There was a little bit of earth and grain to the smell of it, and Eirian followed her nose to the tent, Wayland, Vitali, Tanning, and the Wen hot on her heels.
"That's smoke." Vitali looked around. "From the kitchens?"
"It smells like grass, not meat." Eirian pointed out and stormed over to the nearest guard tower on their camp wall. The guards dove out of her way as she climbed up, but it didn't offer much more of a view than she had on the ground due to the hills, but she could see the wispy haze settling over the low ground.
It wasn't uncommon for mist to gather in the mornings and evenings when the temperature dropped and the heat gave way to cooler, moist air.
And it even looked like smoke sometimes, with its almost ethereal appearance.
It wasn't surprising that the soldiers wouldn't have noticed at first glance, especially if, for some reason or another, their sense of smell wasn't acute.
But it didn't smell like fire. Morning mist smelled fresh and wet and almost like flowers if it was the right time of year.
The taste of ash came to her tongue. Ardain's song became louder in her head, the blade practically vibrating under her hand.
She turned to Vitali. "Sound the alarm."
The first wave of burning arrows hit as Vitali was still sprinting towards the alarm bell in the center of camp.
A wave of rage rose in her, on the heels of surprise and shock. And the rage was mostly at herself.
She'd walked into another trap after all that work they'd done trying to avoid just that.
The first arrows landed somewhat harmlessly between the tents, their flames snuffed out by the dirt before they could do any harm, but Eirian recognized their spacing. The archers were sighting in their shots, carefully walking themselves into their targets as they took the wind and other obstacles into account.
It would only take a handful before they were putting those flaming arrows right into the tents that would go up in seconds in the dry heat and wind.
Vitali reached the alarm, and the chime of the bells was almost immediately drummed out by the thundering footsteps of a hundred thousand soldiers reacting to the notification that they were under attack.
Another spattering of arrows came as most of them were throwing on their armor and running for the walls of the camp. The Crimson Army drilled every member on how to respond to a variety of attacks, ensuring they could do so effectively at a moment's notice, and Eirian stayed planted on the guard tower to watch the soldiers sort themselves out like ants marching.
The arrows had come from between two hills, and Eirian wasn't sure why the two guard towers on either side hadn't alert-
The two guard towers lit up, and the others on either side quickly followed. The soldiers were too well-trained to abandon their posts, but the towers on the opposite side of the camp stayed unlit. Even if the camp walls were breached, they wouldn't light their signal fires unless a new attack came from their direction.
Another wave of arrows came, and the tribal archers were clearly skilled because the third round hit the first row of sleeping tents, and the fabric quickly caught fire, flames racing across the top and down the sides.
The uniform fabrics were treated to increase their resistance to fire, but the tents were not, because the treatment made them thick and heavy and trapped heat inside.
Eirian leapt down from the watch tower as another wave of arrows, nearly twice as many as the last volley had, rained down. The support staff for the army was frantically trying to control the spreading fires, tossing buckets of water from the river on everything that wasn't on fire to stop its spread.
She pushed her way through the soldiers to make her way to the portion of the wall the attack was coming from ,as a horn sounded a short note and then three steadily longer ones.
"Multiple tribes." Wayland translated. "A large force."
"And here we thought Beng Shai couldn't pull off the same trick twice." Vitali's grin was bloody.
"Technically, I think this is the fourth." Eirian snorted and drew Ardain. "If they're smart, they just try to burn us out and pick off who they can when we retreat."
Ardain gleamed in the weakening twilight.
A long, deep call sounded, and Eirian recognized the call of a bearded elk, the largest mammal on the plains, whose calls could be heard for miles. A few tribes managed to tame and ride them, including the Bandri, but most used bone flutes to mimic their call to hunt and scare smaller animals away from their crops.
"The Loqui use that as a war cry." Wen Chunhan gripped his sword so tightly his knuckles were white, and if Eirian looked closely enough, she could see the tremors running through him. "They're one of the more significant tribes in the central borderlands. Especially adept at archery."
Then it made sense that the Wen knew that, since they were allied with the Yang family, who commanded the Crimson Army's archers.
"How many tribes are allied with the Loqui?" Eirian asked, swinging Ardain to warm up her muscles and joints.
"Five." Tanning answered, his attention behind them on the fires, rather than the attack in front. "But they're small. If its a large force, it'll be more than just their regular allies."
Another long elk-like cry sounded.
"The next one will be the charge." Wen Chunhan swallowed, sweat already pouring down his face.
"Get the horses to safety," Eirian ordered. "There's no point in trying to mount everyone in time." Tanning took off to relay the order and to take command of the efforts to control the fires.
Vitali drew her own sword, looking especially delighted at the opportunity. "At least they came to us. Saves time and effort."
Wayland sighed, resigned, but he drew his sword.
Wen Chunhan's gaze fell to Ardain. "Your blade…what is it?"
Eirian glanced at him, defensive. "It's a blade."
"But not a normal one."
One long call sounded.
The Loqui's mounted archers filled the draw between the two hills, charging forward in a never-ending wave, and Ardain sang.
~ tbc