The Wraith weren’t going to risk floating the bridges across the narrow channel. They had stopped at the riverbank, and were now lifting the broad planks of what appeared to be a lightweight composite material, until they stood vertical.
“They’re going to drop them all at once!” Aiden declared.
On second thought, may be that wasn’t such a bad thing. “The oil has a low ignition temperature,” John said. “And it’s thick enough to sustain a continuous blaze.”
“How come you know this sort of stuff, sir?”
“I tried one of their oil lamps. And I’ve seen one or two oil fires before.” Turning to the warrior with them, John said, “Give the order: everyone except the torchbearers to fall back as far as the first buildings. The moment the bridges are lowered, drop the torches, then get the hell out of there.”
The sound echoed up and down the wall. Some of the Wraith, stonily silent on the far side of the channel until now, began pointing to the water. Others further back were lifting their feet and examining them.
The familiar tension heightened John’s senses. He could feel their uncertainty. On one level, it didn’t matter whether the Wraith realized what was going on and chose to withdraw before the oil was ignited. They were an enemy that, at least for the moment, couldn’t be defeated outright. His entire strategy, like that of Dalera, was purely defensive. The idea was to make capturing their prey so unpleasant that they gave up and went elsewhere. But it was that ‘elsewhere’ that had John hoping they would indeed attack. The more Wraith died here, this morning, on this rock, the fewer could continue culling on some other planet.
During the momentary pause, John gave the order to drop the torches. As luck would have it, the horns blew at almost the exact moment as the bridges began falling into place. Then came a roar like the afterburner of a jet engine. A blast of heat followed in its wake. The horns transmitted the second ‘fall back’ signal along the wall. A blanket of black smoke began to billow toward them, then lifted high enough for the wind to send it up back across the eastern fields. Within minutes, the thick, choking smoke had obliterated their view.
John decided in that moment that fighting blind was actually worse than flying blind. When flying blind, he at least had instruments for reference.
Despite the overwhelming heat, a reasonable number of Wraith were managing to cross the bridges, but disoriented by smoke and batting at themselves to put out the flames, they were surprisingly easy quarry for the nets. Well, something was going right for them. John didn’t dare count on things staying that way.
Along with Ford and a large contingent of warriors and Daleran fighters, John made his way through the increasingly dense smoke to the transport in the Sanctuary Hall. Pleased to see that the Hall was still empty, he ignored the sounds of heavy axes and shouts of victory coming from the direction of the wall. Their biggest test was yet to come.
“Hurry!” Yann called, running in ahead of a contingent of fighters. “To the transport.”
Another series of notes erupted from the horn. Before leaving, Ushat had sorted the combatants into two groups. The best runners and most skilled net throwers would now join him and Teyla’s group preparing the ambush outside the Citadel off North Bridge. Those better armed and armored for close combat would remain here to defend against any further Wraith capable of making it across the eastern wall.
Yann piled into the transport behind Ford. It quickly filled with sweating bodies, along with the sound of clanking swords against metal breastplates, panting, and complaints from some that they had not yet managed to personally vanquish a Wraith. The fighters’ demeanor was a far cry from that of the special-forces troops with whom John had often worked back on Earth. Those men had been skillful and silent. These, not so much. Fortunately, that was exactly the effect they were going for in order to lure the Wraith into the trap.
“Don’t worry,” John told them when the doors closed. “You’ll get your chance soon enough.”
The transport opened inside the now-familiar Sanctuary Hall where they’d first arrived. John stepped out, with Ford, two buglers and five warriors behind him. “Take everyone else and report to Teyla and Ushat,” he ordered Yann.
A few of the Dalerans looked at him suspiciously. “You are not coming?” Yann said.
“After I see what the Wraith are doing.”
Many of them remained uncertain. John was the last person to quibble about people blindly accepting orders. “We’ve been lucky so far; everything’s gone according to plan,” he called. “That’s not necessarily going to keep happening, which is why it’s important for you to follow my instructions. If the Wraith fall back due east, we’ll need to get everyone inside the Citadel pronto, because they’re likely to regroup before attacking from a different direction.”
Pointing outside, he added, “Next to the Enclave, this is the highest point in the Citadel. It ought to take the first group of Wraith around forty-five minutes to make its way north to where Teyla and Ushat have set up the ambush. It’ll take you about thirty minutes to reach them from the village behind. Buglers have been sent to every Station around the Citadel to signal any change in movement, but right now, I need to eyeball what’s going on.” He smiled grimly. “Save me a Wraith.”
“If you see Lisera,” Yann called to Ford, “tell her my thoughts are with her.” He stabbed at the panel and the transport doors closed.
Outside, tendrils of oily smoke were blowing up the eastern side of the Citadel. It was already higher than the uppermost level of the Station. “Oh, man,” Ford groaned. “The westerly wind’s dying down.”
“No, I don’t think so.” John studied the clouds. Heading east at about fifteen knots, he estimated. “The heat’s creating upward vortices.” Still, that wasn’t going to help him see any better. “The view should be better from the top of Black Hill.”
Ford shot him a knowing look. “Maybe we could scout around for McKay while we’re there.”
Except that he’d also given his word to Teyla, Yann, and Ushat. He’d split the difference. Twenty minutes looking around Black Hill, and then he’d double-time it from the transport to the ambush site, which should still get him there well ahead of the Wraith. “Okay, let’s go check out Black Hill.”
Chapter Sixteen
When the mist parted, the echoes of a thousand feet reverberating through the ground resolved itself into a dreaded truth. From her post in one of the trees, Teyla bit back a gasp. Never before had she seen such a vast horde of Wraith.
The sense of loathing and terror that rippled through those perched with her in the branches was as tangible as the chill bite of the morning air. And yet, the mere fact that the Wraith had been forced to march on the Citadel gave Teyla a measure of satisfaction that she had never before known.
Many stories from her childhood, and the drawings in the caves where her people had taken refuge, all spoke of the same thing. The Wraith came in their great ships, shredded the lives of generation after generation, and there was little anyone could do but run and hope that enough would survive to go on. But in her heart, Teyla had never accepted that this was truly the destiny of her people. Somewhere, somehow, the Wraith could be defeated.
The rebirth of Atlantis had kindled that hope until it had become something more. Now, it was a belief. True, the people of Earth were not the Ancestors. Her confidence had been tarnished by moments of disillusionment, even anger, at the newcomers’ arrogance. Nevertheless, that arrogance also gave them something that had been driven from her people when the Ancestors had departed — the will to stand and fight, and not to run and hide in the face of overwhelming odds.
Now, on Dalera, the Wraith had been brought to ground. Now, she too would stand and fight.
Gasps of fear quickly turned into shrill cries to abandon their position.