A large amount of this operation is going to hinge on luck. My orders are clear we will ambush any forces that have infiltrated past the front lines and slow down the trickle of troops aimed at the second defensive line. The survival of me and my squad are secondary to the amount of damage that we do to the attackers. These ambushes are barely an afterthought to the defensive lines where the majority of the battle would be taking place.

I send a mental command for my squad to get climbing. We had moved into an alleyway between two flat-topped red brick buildings. The buildings are easy to climb and it is almost no time before the whole squad is lying on the flat roofs on either side of the alleyway. The individual Coptos have no vantage point on the alley from their prone positions but that is no matter, the only watchers that we would need are already in place. The grey misty forms of my scouts lean over the edges of the buildings further up the ally, near impossible to spot against the backdrop of the sky. I look through their eyes and feed my observations into the twelve other minds in my squad. We sit on the rooftops listening to the roar of combat and feeling the ground shudder under us from detonations, waiting with near-infinite patience for two hours.

The battle at the primary lines reaches some kind of crescendo as the sounds of explosions becomes more frequent. Rooftops several blocks closer to the battle than us begin to glow as our artillery is pushed back to avoid direct combat with the front lines of the enemy forces. The eyes of the scouts can just barely make out the closest ritual circle of Violet Coptos and I watch as the small figures move together in repeated motions the light in the center of their circle growing brighter until it shoots out like a shining meteor in an arc towards the enemy forces. I realize that watching the Violets conjure was not useful for my orders so I turn the scouts' attention back to the alleyway.

The squad only has to wait about fifteen more minutes after my loss of concentration before movement is spotted further down the alleyway. The movement resolves itself into three figures moving slowly down the alley. They are all clad in a dull unmarked grey plate mail covering them from head to toe with only their faces exposed. They are mounted on huge warhorses which they ride forward at a slow cautious gait. The riders are on the lookout for an ambush, their curved calvary sabers unsheathed and held tightly. Laying over them the scouts can make out the shredded remains of several protective enchantments on the riders, damaged beyond any further utility in the fighting.

As the three riders arrive below the squad I place my battle plan in the minds of my squadmates. They all tense for a few seconds before pulling themselves up and launching themselves at the riders below. The weaker Yellows simply slam into the riders knocking them off balance. The larger and more combat-ready Reds hit and stick, the sharp claws that spring from their fingers skittering across the armor of the riders as the greater weight of the Reds knocks the unfortunate riders fully out of their saddles.

With the first blows landed everything pauses for a second as the combatants reorient themselves. Two of the riders are sprawled on the ground being swarmed by my squad, the yellows pounding on some sections of armor while the Reds slash their claws at the uncovered faces of the riders leaving great gashes across them. The third rider at the rear hangs by one foot from one of his stirrups, yet despite his inverted position he holds his four attackers at bay with wild swings of his saber. One of my Yellows is a bit to close and is caught in one of the swings, the sword cuts through him diagonally from hip to armpit with little resistance from his thin exoskeleton. The Yellow trembles for a second, yellow sand seeping from the wound before collapsing his body seeming to unravel into glass-like shards, yellow sand, and a puff of smoke. His mind’s connection to mine vanishes.

Having reached a collective decision the horses bolt back towards the front lines, the rear one dragging his rider unceremoniously along the brick paving of the alleyway. The two riders left behind flail for a few seconds further before the questing claws of my Reds reach something vital in their heads and they go still. Ambush completed I check the surroundings through the eyes of the scouts and review my internal clock. I am shocked to discover the whole ambush took little more than a minute from start to finish, it had felt like a full battle.

I scurry back down one of the walls, unlike my squamates Blues like me are not robust enough to leap from two stories without serious injury. I glance over at what remains of my unlucky Yellow. In normal times procedure would be to gather the remains up to be reprocessed, but these are not normal times and it is time to move to a new location for another ambush.