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### **Chapter 17: The Immortal Contract**
The four Hurlers were unleashed. Hundreds of sharp, four-pronged spikes flew through the air in a wide, deadly arc, raining down on the struggling infantry and the remnants of the cavalry. Men screamed as the spikes punched through the leather soles of their sandals, piercing their feet. Horses, already maddened with pain, shrieked as the spikes embedded in their legs, sending them crashing to the ground. The entire forward third of the Lotus army was a writhing, screaming mess of broken men and dying animals.
"Crossbows," I commanded.
The rotating crossbows on the walls opened up. It was not a volley; it was a continuous, metallic storm. Heavy bolts ripped into the disordered ranks of the infantry, punching through armor, shattering bone, tearing through flesh. The sound was a relentless thump-thump-thump, a brutal, industrial heartbeat of death.
