The faint firelight eagerly reflected any motion in the otherwise still night. Amelian couldn't help but follow the play of shadows against the stone as Private Arnold Michelson followed the length of the wall towards her.

She had her watch in her hand and waited with Sergeant Redgrave as the soldier approached.

"Five minutes, twelve seconds from the watchtower?" Valen asked, as he put his own watch away.

"Glad he keeps up on his fitness regimen," Amelian remarked.

"I'll bet he feels the same way," Valen said.

"Lieutenant!" Arnold Mitchelson panted as he approached. He stopped in front of her, beside Senior Sergeant Valen Redgrave, and saluted smartly. The Sergeant returned the salute instantly, and a heartbeat later, Amelian did the same.

"Sergeant Reeves has been informed and is deploying his squad accordingly. Specialist Montessori has passed your report to the next wall. No reply yet, ma'am," he said, his breathing already calm.

"Good," Amelian said. "Since Valen has already deployed the Squad, you will accompany the Sergeant and myself on this lookout. Grab your kit, get some food and water, and be ready in five minutes."

"Ma'am!" he saluted, enthusiastically, before turning away and darting towards the supply lockers.

"Eager kid," Amelian muttered to herself. She looked back out into the dark beyond the wall, as Mitchelson departed. "You said you were on these walls, during the last invasion," she said to Valen.  

Valen sighed a little, but it came with a rueful smile. "Not this wall," he said. "The Reclamation projects put up two sets of walls since the last invasion."

The old sergeant looked out at the Gloam, his usually serene expression faltering as the edges of his mouth twitched. "Their strategy hasn't changed much, since the Second Invasion. Their opening moves are the giants. Crafters call them Golems. They're as tall as the watchtowers, and hit hard enough to break the walls apart. We'll need to remind the squads that we won't hold here, ma'am," Valen said.

"When do we start holding?" Amelian asked.

"Not until they hit populated areas. And we're going to lose a lot of people when we have to," Valen said, his voice unusually faint.

"You sound sure it will come to that," Amelian noted.

"We've spent the last forty years trying to discover better tools to use against those golems. We have bigger guns, a lot more of them than we did during the Fifth, and smarter ways to move it around," Valen said. "But none of that is a match for the crafters, and they have only ever been just enough."

Valen shuddered, and his hand rested on the hilt of his sword, rubbing the pommel. "We lost two residential districts during the Fifth," he said. "One-hundred-thousand people killed, half a million displaced. Nearly a third of the army was lost trying to hold the walls in front of the Eleventh District. It was too close last time."

In a whisper, the sergeant added, "It's always too close."

There was nothing Amelian could bring herself to say. Her sergeant represented nearly a half-century of experience and was one of only a few veterans left in the City. She gazed out into the expanse instead, and struggled to keep her breathing steady.

Valen looked back at her and met her gaze. He smiled ruefully and rubbed his hair with his right hand. "Sorry, ma'am. I shouldn't be dredging up bad memories. I should talk about what we're likely to encounter first."

Amelian noticed the old sergeant's left hand still rested on the pommel of his sword. She smiled, understanding the gesture. It seemed to be a common habit among officers.

"Go ahead," she said.

"We should have about an hour between when we first see a Golem, and when it reaches the walls. Once it reaches the wall, it should take thirty to fifty minutes for it to create a breach. Once it does, the golem will hold until the Gloam claims the area. Once the Gloamtaken advance, the golem will advance to the next wall," Valen explained.

None of this was new to Amelian, but she appreciated having something to think about besides the fear wrenching her stomach into knots.

"Do they always attack in the same pattern?" she asked.

"Like a force of nature, thankfully," Valen said.

"Thankfully?" Amelian asked, startled.

"If they laid siege to us, or slowly pushed us further into the City instead of blitzing their way through the walls, we wouldn't have survived any of the invasions," Valen explained. He smiled and laughed a little. "Believe me; we wasted a lot of time trying it in the war games. We used the Census statisticians to calculate likely losses, and simulated some of the options the invaders had. We never could beat the siege."

"You conducted war games?" Amelian said, genuinely impressed. "That's senior command stuff. The Lord Captain of the Wall doesn't trust just anyone with that."

"Fighting in the last invasion helps," Valen said quickly, awkwardly. Amelian raised an eyebrow but didn't press the issue.

Amelian stared out into the night, wringing her hands. She sighed, bitterly, and asked "Why don't we have more firepower here? Those new cannons, the long-barrelled Valkyries, why aren't they here? Why so few of us? And why don't we have any crafters?"

"I felt that way when I first heard them coming," Valen admitted, standing beside her to stare into the open night. "Truth is, they tried putting artillery out here before, and it did more harm than good. Dropping a golem takes a lot of firepower. If you commit enough cannon to drop one, another is three walls in, and your firepower is stuck well behind it. As for the crafters, well..."

Here the old Sergeant paused, shuddering. "You know that crafters have shadows, right?" Valen asked. His face was pale and his gaze distant, as if he saw the past rather than the horizon.

"Assigned by the Bureau of Oversight. Like to dress in black, chronically moody, fond of knives?" Amelian asked.

Valen rewarded her with a quick bark of a laugh. "That's the mould they come in. The Bureau of Oversight assigns every crafter a shadow, to prevent a crafter from going mad with their own power. Crafting strains, and crafting the firepower you need in war is much, much harder than what they normally do."

Her sergeant sighed and continued. "We tried posting teams of crafters at points where the golems would hit. It went well, at first. We used a small group of crafters the Guild recommended. But long story short, they got stressed, their shadows got jumpy, knives came out, and a half-dozen crafters turned on each other. Five of them died, along with a company of soldiers. Blew half a mile of wall apart. Didn't stop the golem."

Amelian nodded, whistling softly. "But they were used again?"

"Of course. But not until the golems hit the residential sections. After that, the Gloam would kill more people than a crafter could. And the people a crafter kills stay dead," Valen insisted.

"Is there anything else we can do?" Amelian asked.

"Give accurate reports, run like hell, and torch the land behind us. If we catch the mist-filled with burning crops, the poor blokes three walls in don't have to fight them off while they aim their Valkyries," Valen replied.    

Amelian nodded. "Thank you, Sergeant. I should check on Reeves, make sure his squad is coping. Things that concern you will have the recruits soiling themselves if I'm not careful."

Valen saluted sharply, right fist to chest, and Amelain returned it with all the practiced professionalism the old warrior had taught her. "Take Mitchelson with you, ma'am. No one should be walking the wall tonight alone," Valen said.

"Speaking of Mitchelson..." Amelian reflected, scanning the length of the wall. She caught sight of a figure some distance away, alone, gazing intently into the night. Even from here, she could see the young soldier shifting his weight from one foot to another, fidgeting anxiously as he stared out into the night with his spyglass.

"Private Mitchelson!" Valen bellowed, his booming shout a shock to Amelian's nervous disposition. She nearly jumped as her heart started hammering in her chest.

"Sir! Over here!" the young soldier shouted back, waving with his empty hand. His left hand, holding the still extended spyglass, was pointing out into the Gloam beyond the wall.

As they approached, Amelian took her own Spyglass and turned it in the general direction the Private was staring at. As she looked, she smiled a little as Valen started chewing the young soldier out.

She remembered being on the receiving end of that voice.

"Did you go picking your rations from the field? Or go sightseeing? Because it took you too long to get back, soldier," Valen said, not bothering to lower his tone, despite being mere feet from Mitchelson.

Amelian thought she could hear the poor boy cringe, but was surprised when he replied, "Sorry, sir! I thought you and the Lieutenant needed space to speak without being overheard, sir!"   

She turned back to see Valen nodding. "Good instincts, soldier. I can't fault your discretion. What have you seen out there?"

Amelian turned back and looked through her spyglass.

"There's an odd swirl in the Gloam, near the horizon," Mitchelson explained, pointing again. She heard Valen lean on the battlements and stare out.    

"I can't see anything unusual," Sergeant Redgrave said. "And regulations make me test my eyesight every year."

But with the help of the spyglass, Amelian could see the faint crest of a furrow in the mists, where something seemed to glow faintly. It was small, still obscured by the swirling Gloam, but it was distinct from the usual uniform of the plains beyond the City.

"Did you see something that looked like a trench, with flickering yellow light?" Amelian asked. She closed the spyglass to regard the Private, finding new respect for his powers of observation.

"Yes, ma'am. But that's not the first strangest thing. For the last couple of minutes, it sounds like someone's been beating a drum. Really far away, and really slowly. Ten seconds between beats, roughly," Mitchelson explained.

Amelian turned to regard Valen, who was clenching his teeth and fingering the pommel of his sword again. He noticed her gaze and nodded almost imperceptibly.

She regarded the Private and grinned with pride. "That's confirmation enough. Redgrave, head towards the control station and have everyone return to the watchtower. Mitchelson, have Sergeant Reeves collect his squad and meet us there. We'll gather, confirm the general direction the golem is advancing to, then head to the Second Wall. I'll pass word along to Spendel. The invasion is coming."