CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Jade frowned, staring down at the body-strewn sweep of land below. Somewhere out there, Phoenix was injured and half-buried. If she gave the order to fire the onager, he could die – again. If she didn’t, tens of thousands of the Raj’s soldiers would die instead. Gritting her teeth, she closed her eyes. Sending a fleeting apologetic thought toward Phoenix, she reached out to the remaining commanders and the onager operators and sent a simple, one-word command:
“Fire.”
Loud creakings and groaning of wood and rope under stress filled the air as the sixty plus onager were wheeled to the front of the hill-command stations. Within moments, they were wound back and loaded with rocks; hot gravel and sand; clay balls filled with small metal spikes; wicker balls filled with
