Thomas was farther from the center of the blast, but the savage shockwave still hurled him violently to the ground. He crashed onto the freezing earth, his ears filled with nothing but a piercing ring, every organ in his body feeling as though it had been knocked out of place.
Struggling to lift his head, he looked through blurred vision toward that patch of death where his comrades had just charged forward without regard for their lives. Now, all that remained was a silent ruin, wisps of bluish smoke curling from it.
Along this small stretch of their line alone, at least two or three hundred of Sauron's finest soldiers had been fed into the assault. More than half of them had likely been buried in Lafare's long-planned final eruption.
Upon the main city wall, Karl lowered his telescope from the Sauron main assault sector, which was shrouded in gunpowder smoke but had clearly descended into confusion and stagnation. The staff officers spoke in low, rapid voices as they exchanged reports from the frontline, while markers representing the enemy and friendly situations were constantly shifted across the sand table.
"Lafare's effect is remarkable. The enemy's central climbing force has suffered severe losses, and their offensive has been blunted," one staff officer concluded.
Karl gave a slight nod. "Harald was impatient and concentrated his main force on a frontal assault through the center. His flanks are bound to be thin, especially the right flank near Amber Bay. To avoid our naval artillery, their deployment there is even sparser, and they lack sufficient cavalry cover."
"Send the order. Lyon's dragoons are to follow the predetermined plan and strike out from the seaward earthwork exit on the right flank. Launch a swift assault against the side and rear of the Sauron attack positions!