by Brad Clark
***
The wind had picked up, sending cold air from the north, through the valley, and directly into the face of King Illichian. The sounds of the goblins were picked up and carried to his ears, adding a chilling ambiance to the castle wall. Surrounding him were his best warriors from the Elven Guard. Clad in banded armor, they carried longswords instead of the traditional long-bladed Elven daggers. Their sole purpose was to defend the King against any and all attacks. Wherever the King moved, they moved as well. Their movement made it difficult for the King to observe the battlefield, but the Elven Guard were there to protect him. He also didn’t like that some of his best warriors being pulled out of the battle just to protect him.
“Their activity has picked up,” an Elf named Tellestan said from behind the king.
“Indeed,” King Illichian replied, but his eyes were not on the massive army of the Deceiver, but the small mass of goblins where his most trusted advisors were under duress. Hallendrielle had become a voice of reason among his panicky advisors. She alone could speak honestly with him, yet maintain a proper sense of their situation. It was dire, but they were far from defeated. One of his advisors had even mentioned running away, back to their homeland. He was now standing among the archers, having lost his position as a confidant. Glaerion, he trusted more than anyone to do what was right. He had never failed him, and the king had full confidence that would continue forever. At least until Glaerion died, and if things didn’t change quickly, that would be today.
“The stone creatures are moving.”
That got the king’s attention, and he shifted his eyes back to the Deceiver’s army. The Stone Ogres were no longer sitting on their haunches. They were starting to mill about, and one of them was moving towards the rescuers.
“Should we do something?”
The king had already asked that of himself. They had already committed too many to the rescue. If they lost all the Knights, their planned counter-offensive would be in jeopardy. Losing them, though, would not be as damaging as losing Hallendrielle and Glaerion. However, they could not risk any more fighters. They would need all that they had to defend the walls long enough to mount their counter-offensive.
“Hand me the spear,” the king said.
Tellestan heisted for a moment, and the king looked at him. “The Spear of Salvation?” The king asked again.
“How will the Spear help? Is it not meant for the Deceiver?”
“Hallendrielle and Glaerion are on their own. We must prepare for the battle.” His voice was heavy and carried the weight he felt. “The Spear?”
Tellestan retrieved the Spear of Salvation from an innocuous-looking box sitting on the ground. Gingerly, he held it out for the king to take.
King Illichian took it with both hands, feeling the power of the Web of Magic flowing through it and into him. With the shaft now in one piece, and imbued with a powerful spell, he felt confident in their victory. He knew the goblins outnumbered them, but it had been clear that they were easily killed. The Knights cut through them quickly, and his Elven archers could fell them with a single well-placed shot. He shifted his grip to hold it like a weapon and envisioned driving its sharp tip into the body of the Deceiver. They only needed to get close enough, and they would be able to end this war.
“I think it’s starting,” Tellestan said. “The Stone Ogres are moving in this direction.”
“We’ll need Hargon,” King Illichian said, looking around for him. “Where is he! Someone find him!”
***
Immerallis watched from a spot about two-thirds of the way up the mountainside. Although the mountain peaks were still covered in snow, there were many places where the warming sun had melted enough snow for him to hide among the rocks and barren trees. He was tucked tightly into one of those places, his brownish scales taking on the color of the rocks around him, blending him in entirely. Maybe a keen Elven eye could pick him out from the rocks, but he doubted it. His vantage point gave him the ability to see the entire landscape of the battlefield. Soon enough, the battle would begin in earnest, and he would join in the fight with the Humans and Elves. He believed their plan would be successful, but he wished that Myllia was here to join with him. The Humans needed their help, and even one more fire-breathing Dragon might be just enough. In his time since waking from his centuries-long slumber, he had grown fond of who they had become. They were not the arrogant killers that he remembered from before his centuries-long slumber. The Humans did not hunt them for the pleasure of the kill or because they were deemed to be evil creatures that were a threat to Human existence. They actually saved his life when they could have left him to suffer a long and painful death at the hands of the Deceiver.
He shifted his position and rose from his hiding place. If anyone were watching the mountain, they would see where he had hidden, but he no longer needed to fear being exposed. It was time to bring the fire of death down upon the Deceiver and his evil soldiers. With a single, powerful kick of his hind legs, he sprung into the air, sending small rocks tumbling down the mountain. With two strong flaps of his wings, he reached cruising speed to head towards the small group of Human fighters who would soon be swarmed over by the goblin army.
***
Out of the corner of his eye, Conner saw a horde of goblins surge towards their position, and for a moment, panic set in. Then, a flash of thoughts and images from when he trained with Master Goshin came to him, and a steady calm immediately fell over him. If he spent all his energy focusing on the opponent he could not yet fight, he would lose focus on the opponent he could fight. Eventually, they would need to figure out how to fight the oncoming horde, but if they didn’t fight their way through the goblins that were directly in front of him, they wouldn’t survive long enough to face the next challenge.
He could hear the old Hurai’s voice repeatedly saying, “Fight the first fight first.”
Marik and his Knights charged back through the goblins, many of whom had broken off from fighting the surrounded Sak’Hurai to chase after those who had escaped. This helped everyone, as the goblin forces were now split and no longer concentrating on one group. Their speed kept the goblins off balance, but some of them were able to jump onto the back of the wagon, but Conner was there to cut them down before they were able to reach Hallendrielle.
What he thought was a goblin jumped onto the wagon, and he turned to cut it down, but a quick parry by his dagger saved Glaerion’s life.
“Sorry!” Conner called out. He had not realized they had reached the remaining Sak’Hurai because goblins were still trying to jump onto the wagon.
A handful of Sak’Hurai quickly joined Glaerion and Conner on the wagon without Hallendrielle ever slowing down. No more words were shared as they desperately fought off goblins who were now leaping into the air at them and onto the horses. Marik and several of his Knights kept near to fight off those that tried to attack the horses, but they kept moving forward. Speed was their best defense, and for the moment, they were able to avoid being surrounded and overwhelmed. However, the constant onslaught of goblins would eventually crush them.
Just as they were all about to accept a dire fate, a shadow flashed overhead.
***
Immerallis looked down on the goblin horde that was racing towards the Knights who had just saved the trapped Hurai. If the approaching horde reached them, they would be overwhelmed by sheer numbers. She pumped her wings to gain speed and then released all that remained of her Dragon Fire. It engulfed the entire front line of the goblins, burning them with a heat so intense that they burst into flames, spreading death quickly even to those who were not directly struck by his fire.
The flames burned hot and high, bringing the goblin charge to a halt. Even the vile and vicious creatures would not run through instant death.
Immerallis banked quickly to turn back towards the Knights. They were still fighting off goblins, but they were no longer surrounded or in danger of being overwhelmed. Arrows from a distance sl
owly picked off survivors. If he had more fire to breathe, he would have released another torrent, but they still had a battle plan that needed to be followed. By the time the Knights returned to the castle, he would be recharged.
With nothing more he could do for the Knights, he continued his bank and aimed for the Stone Ogres, who were trotting down the hill from the forest. His fire would not harm them, but he knew what he could do to take care of them. It would be a slow process, and he wouldn’t be able to kill very many of them, but any that he could kill now would be one less that could tear down the castle walls.
He stretched the talons on his hind feet in anticipation of what was to come next.
***
The wagon made a slow turn back towards the castle, and the number of goblins that chased them had dwindled. By ones and twos, goblins continued to leap up at the wagon, but there were enough Sak’Hurai onboard to quickly dispatch them. After another minute, they were clear of all the goblins and headed directly for the main castle gate.
Out of immediate danger, Conner let himself relax and lowered his swords. Marik gave a quick wave of a hand and motioned towards the Elven archers who had come out of the castle with Hallendrielle. They were clustered together with the rest of the Sak’Hurai and were still fending off goblins. The line of Knights broke away from the wagon to lend assistance.
Conner glanced back at the Sak’Hurai who were standing in the back of the wagon, their knees bent to help maintain their balance as the wagon bounced and lurched across the uneven, muddy field. “There are too few of them,” Conner said.
Denn, who was covered in blood and green goblin ichor was standing in the middle of the Sak’Hura. He stepped forward to stand next to Conner. “Their army is larger than we could have thought. I am sorry we do not have more Sak’Hurai for you.”
“I have seen you fight,” Conner said. “One of you is worth ten or twenty of them. Your help is welcome, and we will put you to good use.”
“Thank you for coming when you did,” Denn said. “We were but a heartbeat away of being completely overwhelmed. Another moment longer, and there would have been none of us.”
The wagon lurched, and they all braced themselves to keep from falling over. Glaerion, though, let out a sharp grunt and dropped to a knee. His right arm was clutched to his right side, and his left hand gripped the side of the wagon. He glanced down at his side. He tried to do is surreptitiously, but Conner noticed how quickly he glanced at his side and how he kept his right arm covering it.
Conner kneeled down next to him, and then he noticed all the blood. “You’re hurt.”
“We’re all hurt,” Glaerion said.
“Let me see it.”
Glaerion’s shook his head sharply, but he grimaced.
Denn dropped down to next to Glaerion. “Show us. If it is bleeding, it will need to be wrapped to stop the bleeding.”
Glaerion glared at the two of them but allowed his tunic to be raised. A long cut went along his ribs. Blood was seeping out of it.
“It’s not that deep. A tight wrap will do,” Denn said. He called out to one of the Sak’Hurai, who tore a long strip from his loose tunic and handed it to Denn.
As they were wrapping the wound, Hallendirelle glanced back. She did a double take at seeing Glaerion’s bare skin and the bloody wrap. “If you’re hurt, I’m going to kill you!” she shouted.
“I’m fine!” Glaerion shouted back. The wagon lurched again. “Watch where you’re going!”
With an angry look, she turned back to avoid rough terrain.
“We’re trained to take care of battle wounds,” Denn said, finishing his work to wrap Glaerion’s side. “It’ll need to be rechecked when we reach the castle.”
“I heal fast,” Glaerion said. Putting down his tunic, he climbed to his feet but kept his right arm close to his side.
Conner knew when to let Glaerion alone, so he turned to Denn. “We’ll be at the castle soon. We’ll have some time to rest and eat. We don’t have much, but we do have hot stew and bread.”
“There is more fighting to do,” Denn said. “We can rest when we are dead, or the battle is over.”
Conner chuckled. “Now you sound like Princess Nikki. When she arrives, her swords will be most welcome.”
“When she arrives, we hope that she brings more than just her swords. On our way here, we got caught up in a war between two armies. Taran Centurions and a large army of fur-wearing barbarians. She was hoping to convince the victors to help us.”
“The Taran Centurions would be helpful,” Conner said.
Denn shook his head. “Not them. They were wiped out. The others prevailed. They called themselves the Bargoroth.”
“How many?”
“Thousands.”
“That would be helpful, too.”
“By the time they arrive, I fear it will be too late,” Denn said.
“How long did it take you?”
“Two full days, but we came across some horses that we rode until they fell dead under us. Then we ran through the night to get here when we did. Those barbarians might be great fighters in a battle, but they are not warriors like us. We have trained all our lives for this. Even if they marched all day and all night, it would take them a week on foot.”
“If we know they’re coming, we could hold out for a week,” Conner said. “We should send some riders to them.”
Glaerion pointed over Conner’s shoulders. They all turned to see a dozen Stone Ogres trotting down the hill towards the abandoned village.
“Unless we can find a way to kill all of those, the walls will be breached before nightfall. If that happens, in a week, they’ll find nothing left of us.”
“Then we better find a way to kill them,” Conner said.
Chapter Seventeen
The Stone Ogres ran with long, leaping strides directly through the abandoned village, smashing the remaining buildings to splinters, as if they were not even there. Hundreds of arrows were sent at them, but the wooden shafts simply bounced off their stone-like skin. The Elven archers aimed for the Stone Ogre’s eyes, their only weakness, but even with the help of magic, none of the arrows were accurate enough to bring one down. Their charge only stopped when they reached the walls. Then they began to pound their fists with a steady rhythm, sending chunks of stone flying in all directions.
King Illichian ran towards the nearest Stone Ogre but kept some distance. His hands itched for the power to send an offensive spell at the creature, but such spells were not something an Elf could cast. Defensive, spells, however, were in their purview. The words tumbled out of his mouth, and the stone walls suddenly were protected by an invisible, magical shield. The Stone Ogre’s fists pounded on solid air, and it did not seem notice. King Illichian did notice, as the force of the Stone Ogre’s fists hitting the magical solid air reverberated through him. The spell would only last as long as he had the energy to keep it going, which was not going to be very long. Other Elves joined to cast protective spells on the walls, but it would only be a matter of time before the Stone Ogres persistence would outlast the Elven spells.
“Where is Hargon?” King Illichian screamed, doing his best to remain focused on keeping his spell going.
An archer dashed past the king, nocked an arrow, slowly aimed down at the Stone Ogre and released. Those who were near enough to watch held their breath as the arrow aimed for the Stone Ogre’s exposed eye. The arrow struck true, embedding deep into the eye. With a horrifying scream, the Stone Ogre violently thrashed about, falling to the ground, trying to pull out the arrow. A cheer rose up as the Stone Ogre fell to the ground, but after only a couple heartbeats, the creature had pulled the shaft out. Its eye was dark and bloody, but it was not dead. With a fierceness that it had not previously shown, it sprang up and charged at the wall, running shoulder first into the magical solid air with such force that King Illichian was stunned and fell to the ground. His spell faded out of existence and with uncontrolled rage, the Stone Ogre began beati
ng on the wall with its fists, faster and harder than all the others.
A nearby Elf helped King Illichian to his feet. Filled with his own rage, he screamed out, “Where is Hargon!”
Feeling the reality of failure, for the first time King Illichian feared they might lose this battle.
***
“The gate is closed,” Marila said.
“I can see that,” Hargon snapped back. The gate had been held open while the Knights had been out rescuing the Sak’Hurai. They all had recently returned, just ahead of the charging Stone Ogres, and the gates were immediately closed.
“What now?” she asked.
Hargon looked around the full courtyard. The Knights were dismounting and tending to their wounded. Although nearly all of them had returned, most were bloody and moved slowly. The Sak’Hurai who had just arrived were being led towards the castle and disappeared among the mass of fighters who were milling about the courtyard, prepared to join the fight when the main force of the goblin army arrived.
The sound of the Stone Ogres pounding on the walls caused a sudden hush to fall throughout the castle’s courtyard. For a moment, Hargon thought about joining the battle as planned, but he knew it was futile. He had the power to kill some of the Stone Ogres, but certainly not all of them. Unless, of course, he had the full force of the Ark of Life in his hands. He grabbed Marila by the arm and pulled her towards the wall. She resisted at first, and she had the strength to pull away if she wanted to, but she let herself be dragged along.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Up and over,” he replied. “We’ll need your illusion, now.”
“Of what?”
“I don’t know! Just of anything!”
She stopped, and with her strength, she was able to make him stop, too. He looked back at her angrily.
“That’s not how it works! I can’t just make something up. I have to see it, and then I think about it, and then it becomes an illusion.”
“We have to get up those stairs without being stopped. So, either hide us or do something!”