by M E Robinson
Without being given time to prepare, the goblins’ shaky formation collapsed as the platoon’s arrowhead formation dug into their ranks. The scouts’ blades made quick work of the first ranks of goblins, thrusting and cutting at exposed goblin flesh as the unit advanced. At the head of the formation, Alistair’s claymore flashed repeatedly, each swing sending goblin heads flying as he charged forward, supported by two grim-faced lieutenants at his sides who ensured that no goblins could flank their captain.
Spreading out, the militia squads did their best to support Alistair and the scout unit. Under Owin’s command, the militia searched for goblins who attempted to flank the scouts, killing any goblins who made it past the arrowhead formation. Leaving Jun and the rest of the ranged squad to hold the gateway, Owin commanded the militia squads to press forward, following Alistair’s advance closely as the goblins were routed. As the scouts reached the middle of the compound, the rest of the goblins broke and ran, fleeing towards a large tent at the opposite end of the base.
“Don’t chase!” Alistair roared. “Burn the barracks - we make for the command centre. Keeneye, you and the militia are to hold the centre. Ensure that any goblins who attempt to make their way in are unable to prevent our mission.”
“Yes, Captain!” the scouts roared.
With a roar of flames, the scout units’ mages began to cast spells, each mage conjuring enormous Flaming Spheres, which they sent soaring toward the nearby buildings, sending the goblins barracks and living quarters up in flames. Seeing this, Alistair began to lead the advance towards the command centre at the opposite end of the compound, an enormous tent with the image of a bloody wolfpaw visible above the entrance.
“Squad Five, reinforce the ranged squad at the gate. Remaining squads, clear the areas around the buildings and watch for ambushes,” Owin warned. “Goblins love to hide in wait, and we still haven’t seen any hobgoblins.”
Fanning out, the militia squads began to search near the burning buildings, killing any goblins they came across. Leading Squad Four, Eric dispatched any goblin he could find, searching through the oily smoke that was beginning to fill the base. So far, the assault was going just as planned. Alistair and the scouts had routed the goblin formation and were pursuing, closing in quickly upon the the command tent at the other end of the base. The militia were cleaning up any goblins that had managed to escape the initial assault, carrying out their grisly task with a brutal efficiency.
Dispatching a goblin with a swing of his falchion, Eric paused. Beside him, Seryllia buried her axe into the skull of a goblin who’d just emerged from some hidden hidey-hole beside the burning barracks in front of them. Ryan and Zwei were accounting themselves well too, each showing off their swordplay as they fenced with any goblins daring enough to reveal themselves to the party. Only Kifax wasn’t moving, looking around with a concerned look on his face.
“Something the matter, Catclaw?” Eric asked, wiping the blood off the blade of his falchion.
“I’m…not sure,” Kifax replied.
Eric cocked an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
“My intuition is telling me that something bad is about to happen.”
“Your intuition?”
“Yes. I was a Tidescout. I’ve survived many battles due to my intuition. I learned long ago to heed its advice.”
“Could it be wrong? We seem to be winning handily,” Eric asked.
Kifax looked uncertain. “Maybe. I’ve never had to deal with northern goblins before. I was always stationed to the south.”
“Mmmmh. Either way, better safe than sorry. Pay attention to your surroundings, guys, make sure that we don’t get ambushed,” said Eric, turning to warn the rest of the squad.
Ryan and Zwei both responded enthusiastically, while Seryllia flashed him a glare. With a shrug, Eric turned back towards the goblin barracks, ready to resume his grisly task.
And, as if hearing Kifax’s thoughts, the world in front of them exploded.
Chapter 43
With a violent cough, Eric rolled over on to his hands and knees. Around him, black smoke mixed with the mist to create a dense cloud that was almost impossible to see through.
“Ryan! Zwei! Sery! Kifax!” Eric attempted to shout, but the words wouldn’t come out. His airway was blocked with a mixture of ash and blood. Coughing again, he tried to clear his throat, doing his best to make a sound as he hunched over. With a retching sound, Eric threw up, a mixture of ash and debris flowing from his throat to the ground. Ignoring this, he called for his squad once more.
“Ryan! Zwei! Sery! Kifax!” Eric’s voice sounded distant, even to himself, as if he was hearing himself over a speaker from far away.
“I’m here.”
“Same.”
“Are you okay, Captain?”
“Don’t call me that,” Seryllia’s voice was the last to emerge from the smoke surrounding them.
“See if you guys can meet up with me. We need to find out what happened,” Eric shouted.
Climbing to his feet, Eric surveyed the surroundings. What had been a misty forest encampment only minutes ago was now a grim hellscape. The wind carried smoke and embers through the air, making visibility difficult as the fires continued to burn. Straining his eyes, Eric looked towards the source of the explosion, a pulsing column of thick reddish-black smoke that rose into the air high above the base.
Following the column of smoke with his eyes, Eric could just make out an enormous hole in the far wall of the base. From the hole, goblins were streaming in, headed towards the command tent where Alistair and the scouts were currently engaged in a harsh battle. As Eric strained his eyes, looking towards Alistair’s last position, he could just make out numerous figures flashing in the smoke as elite goblins wielding sabres clashed with the beleaguered scouts.
“What’s the situation, Captain?” Kifax emerged beside him. Behind him were the other three, all looking significantly worse for wear, but alive.
“The goblins have blown up a section of the wall and are attacking Alistair’s unit. We need to go aid them,” Eric responded tersely, pointing to the figures in the distance as he began to sprint towards the opposite end of the base.
Eyes widening, the rest of the squad made to follow their leader, sprinting through the smoke and ash as they headed for the scout unit. From afar, it had been tough to tell, but getting closer, Eric could see that numerous scouts now lay motionless on the ground below. Alistair had grouped the rest together and put them into a shield wall formation, which was slowly backing up towards the wall of the base. However, this didn’t stop the goblins from throwing themselves at the unit, their sabres glinting in the firelight as they bayed for human blood, their war cries resounding throughout the encampment.
“Militia! To me! We move to aid the Captain!” Owin’s voice pierced through the base.
Spying the lieutenant, Eric moved his squad towards Owin’s own, regrouping with the others as they assessed the situation.
“We need to aid Captain Alistair. There are two hobgoblins among the forces attacking his unit, he can’t hold out without us,” Owin explained urgently, grouping the militia who’d gathered into a rudimentary formation.
Before Owin could make any further adjustments however, another scream echoed through the air. Turning around, Eric watched in horror as Tanix flew through the smoke, his left arm severed at the shoulder as he crashed into the ground, skidding helplessly across the dirt. Behind him, Soren Gunnarson was also sent flying, his shield dented from the blow he’d just received from the enormous figure who’d just appeared in the gateway. Eyes widening, Eric’s hand gripped his falchion tightly as he beheld Grimarok for the first time since his death at his hand.
Sitting upon an enormous blood-red worg, Grimarok was fully clad in heavy plate armour. His thick sabre was held easily in one hand, while the other held a large javelin. As Eric watched, Grimarok hurled the javelin, piercing an unfortunate militia member and pinning them to the ground. With a vicious smile, Grimarok�
�s sabre flashed as he descended upon the remaining militia who’d been tasked with guarding the doorway. Standing still in fright, Astrid closed her eyes tightly as the sabre descended, only to feel a hard yank instead as Jun grabbed her braid and wrenched her out of harm's way.
“Move!” Jun shouted at her, avoiding Grimarok’s next swing as he grabbed Astrid’s arm, pulling her bodily away from the gateway as he retreated.
Behind Grimarok, countless elite goblins swarmed, their eyes glinting with a cruel glow as they swarmed through the gate, sabres flashing as they hacked at the militia who hadn’t had the presence of mind to flee.
With horrified gazes, Owin and the rest of the militia watched as their companions were slaughtered, their agonized cries resounding through the smoky air.
“That is a massive hobgoblin,” Owin gulped, his sword trembling slightly as he beheld Grimarok’s brutal majesty.
“Owin, what’s the plan?” Eric asked in a low voice. “Do we still go to reinforce Alistair?”
“No. We have to block these reinforcements. Alistair and the others will have to survive on their own. There are far more goblins here than we thought, and three hobgoblins on top of that. If we allow the two groups to meet, we’re doomed.”
Looking behind him, Eric realized that Owin was right. Alistair’s forces had reached the wall and set up a defensive formation, but their numbers had been drastically reduced. More than a dozen bodies lay where they fell, still burning from the explosion that had caught them by surprise. Yet more corpses could be seen beyond that point, almost unrecognizable from all the sabre strikes they’d taken as the goblins had overrun their position. Even now, Alistair could be seen struggling against two mounted hobgoblins. Although neither were as big as Grimarok, both were still enormous, their sabres pressuring Alistair as his claymore flickered in the firelight, taking on both monsters and their mounts single handedly in order to relieve the pressure upon the rest of the scouts.
Eric swore. “Alright. What’s the plan then?”
Doing his best to regain his composure, Owin pointed towards Grimarok.
“My squad will engage the hobgoblin lord. The rest of you, engage the elite goblins and keep them from attacking my squad as we deal with the brute. We’re not defeated yet!” Owin roared, doing his best to keep morale high.
As if to punctuate this statement, Owin took a flask from his belt. An orange mixture swirled within, glowing slightly as tendrils of violet mana snaked through the liquid. Aiming towards the gate as elite goblins continued to pour through, Owin threw the flask, watching as it traced a beautiful arc in the air, descending upon the unfortunate goblins. Watching with anticipation, the militia members eyes grew wide as the flask struck the ground, igniting into an enormous conflagration which consumed more than a dozen elite goblins, their cries filling the gateway as the magical flames burned their flesh.
“Go!” Owin cried, rushing forward to meet Grimarok who’d ignored the plight of his subordinates, instead opting to command his worg to charge towards the militia, followed by several dozen elite goblins.
Coming to their senses, the rest of the militia followed suit, mirroring the goblins’ charge as the two sides collided. With a shout, Eric thrust his athame into a goblin’s chest, firing the Wind Dart he’d prepared directly into its heart. Not even stopping to watch it fall, Eric had already moved onto the next goblin, blocking a swing meant for Seryllia with his falchion as he kicked the goblin’s legs out from beneath it. Not bothering to thank him, Seryllia buried her axe in the goblin’s back, flicking the gore off as she spun and delivered a Power Blow to another goblin. Attempting to bring its sabre up in defense, the goblin’s face paled as its guard crumbled, Seryllia’s axe crashing into its skull before the goblin could even come to terms with the enormity of its error.
As Owin and his squad engaged Grimarok, Eric and the rest of the militia did their best to engage the elite goblins. However, there were simply too many of them. The goblins made up for in numbers what they lacked in skill. For every goblin Eric killed, it seemed like two more took its place, as if the goblins were all part of some twisted, monstrous, goblin hydra.
With a mournful cry, Zwei fell, his two-handed sword still finding a place in the chest of one last goblin as its companions’ sabres pierced his abdomen. Letting out a rage-filled yell, Mikasa went to work, her twin blades flashing as she dealt with Zwei’s killers, throwing herself at the goblin forces without regard for her own safety.
“Mikasa! Stop!” Eric yelled, but it was too late.
Even as Eric and Ryan headed to her aid, Mikasa’s health was already plummeting, as she made herself the target of numerous goblin sabres. Her two swords spinning, Mikasa took out another pair of goblins before she fell, a regretful look etched upon her young face.
Around them, more and more fighters were falling, succumbing to the accumulated wounds as they fought tooth and nail with the relentless horde of goblins in front of them. Using Shield Rush, Turk threw himself bodily in front of Aria, bowling over three goblins who were about to finish off the mage. Before Aria could react, more goblins threw themselves atop of him, their sabres flashing as Turk disappeared under a mass of writhing goblin flesh.
With a despairing scream, Aria swung her staff like a golf club, smashing the end into a goblin’s skull. Whirling it around, she brought the butt of the staff down upon another goblin, before a third rushed forward, its sabre glinting as it stabbed deep into Aria’s stomach. Before the goblin could swing again, Aria was thrown backwards, as Griffin blocked the sabre with his shield, returning the favour with a Wild Strike.
“We need to retreat! Now!” Kifax shouted, his claws dyed red with goblin blood.
“No! Owin needs to deal with Grimarok! If we retreat, the entire plan falls into jeopardy!” Eric roared back, firing a Wind Dart point blank into a goblin’s eyes. As the goblin retreated, its sabre swinging blindly, Eric blocked its attack with his athame, lopping off its head as he kicked another goblin back into its fellows.
Even though Eric had said this, it wasn’t as if Owin and his squad were faring well against Grimarok. Wielding his enormous sabre, Grimarok rained blow after blow down upon the five scouts from atop his worg, the massive beast snapping at any scout who dared to come close. As Eric looked over, Grimarok’s worg lunged forward, its jaws latching onto the leg of one of Owin’s companions. With a scream, the man fell, the worg dragging him backwards and away from the rest of the squad.
Lunging forward, Owin attempted to save the man, but Grimarok’s blade descended once more, blocking his path and forcing him to dodge aside. As he watched, the worg used its powerful foreclaws to eviscerate the poor scout, his cries quickly fading as the worg’s steakknife-like claws pierced his chest.
With a cry of anguish, Owin rushed forward, somehow dodging underneath Grimarok’s strike as he used Dashing Cut to charge the worg. Looking up from its kill, the worg opened its jaws to receive Owin, but Owin was faster. With a stab, he embedded his sword deep within the worg’s eye. Letting out an earthshaking howl, the worg thrashed violently, wrenching Owin’s sword from his grasp as it let out a devastating howl that caused friend and foe alike to stop fighting, clenching their hands to their ears in pain.
With a contemptuous look upon his face, Grimarok ignored his worg’s dying howls, swinging his blade towards the man who’d killed his beloved mount. Gritting his teeth through the pain, Owin attempted to raise his shield, but the debilitating effect of the worg’s howl proved too much for him. Receiving the blow with the lip of his shield, Owin’s shield bent backwards, as Grimarok’s blade slammed into his body. Flying backwards, Owin rolled across the ground, his body going still as his bent shield landed in the dirt beside him. Glaring angrily at the scout, Grimarok jumped off of his mount. As if that was the signal the worg had been waiting for, the howls finally ceased, as the worg collapsed, dead at last.
Eyeing each other warily, the militia and the goblins exchanged glances as Grimarok pulled Owin
’s sword from his mount’s eye. Tossing it aside like a piece of useless scrap metal, Grimarok closed the worg’s good eye before bowing deeply to his faithful mount. Once finished with this, he turned towards the remaining militia, who had regrouped a small ways away, just in front of Owin’s still form.
“All of you shall die today. That has already been decided. However, for the crime of killing my mount, I shall extend your suffering. You’d best all try your hardest to die honourably on the field of battle. For any of those who don’t, shall be kept by me as pets,” Grimarok said threateningly, his voice a guttural growl that seemed to claw at the ears of those who listened.
“We’re so screwed,” Griffin muttered.
Eric swore, finding it hard to disagree with Griffin’s pessimistic assessment of the battle. The fight was not going well, they were down to less than half of the number they’d started with, the others lying either dead or crippled in the dirt, slowly being covered with ashes as the fires continued to rage around them. Behind them, the sounds of battle indicated that Alistair’s unit still lived, though whether or not there were still enough to mount a proper defense, or if they were just the sounds of the goblins cleaning up the last few survivors, Eric did not know.
At this rate, they were going to lose. They would all perish, each and every one of them, and their mission would be a failure. Wracking his brain for a solution, Eric began to ponder retreating. Surely staying when all hope was lost was the worst idea. If some of them could survive, that was better than all of them dying, right?
No, Eric shook his head. Hadn’t he vowed to never lose again? Even if the situation seemed hopeless, there had to be some path to victory, right? Fate was a game after all, there was no way the developers would include quests that were impossible.
Casting around for a solution, Eric locked eyes with Jun, who’d appeared behind their formation at some point, his quiver more than half empty from the fighting. Seeing his friend, a plan started to form in Eric’s mind. It wasn’t necessarily a good plan, but it was the best he could come up with on such short notice and under such stressful conditions.