by Brad Clark
Glaerion and Conner did not hesitate. They took the stairs two at a time, pushing aside anyone that got in their way.
They shoved their way through the mass of fighters screaming at them to move forward, but none listened. Conner even grabbed one who was running away but let him go when he saw the young man’s ashen face and wide eyes that were full of fear. He was not the only one that had a fear of death in his eyes. Even strong men had reached the point of fear that caused them to finally turn and run. For Conner, it caused him to push forward harder and faster.
When Conner and Glaerion burst past the retreating fighters, they found themselves face to face with the giant beings. As one, three sets of dark, empty eyes looked down at Conner. They stopped fighting and waited as five more Mashers stepped through the opening in the wall. There were still goblins trying to push their way into the courtyard, but they seemed to be afraid of the Mashers, so they shied away from being anywhere near them. The three waited for the other five to join them, and then they moved forward as one. The Karmon fighters continued to run away.
Conner was not afraid. He had faced many strange creatures in the last two years, and these were just another kind like the others. They were at least two heads taller than him and twice as broad. If one of their clubs struck him, bones would break. He would just have to be sure to not be hit by one. Conner also did not like to see all his fighters shy away from this fight. He and Glaerion should be able to take one each, but they were too big and looked too strong to take more than one at a time. If they didn’t get any help, the fight would be over quickly.
Before he could think of how they might defend against the larger creatures, the Mashers ran into the mass of retreating fighters. Moving more swiftly than seemingly possible, they had the agility of a cat, jumping and darting about as if they were half their size. With wide swings with their clubs, they struck the Karmon fighters, sending dozens tumbling across the courtyard. In a matter of moments, chaos encompassed the courtyard and blood and bodies were strewn across the hard and cold ground.
Conner dodged the fleeing fighters and went after the closest Masher. It turned towards him as he approached, swinging its club with ease. With a tuck and roll, Conner was able to dodge the blow and was nearly caught by a second swing by the Masher, but he was just quick enough to escape certain death. Dancing around the Masher, Conner was able to avoid the massive, spiked club, but the Masher was too fast for Conner to strike with his swords.
An unseasoned or undisciplined fighter would become quickly frustrated with being unable to land even a glancing blow, but Conner had been too well trained to lose his patience. The Masher did not get frustrated either. It attacked with cold, calculating efficiency, without showing signs of fatigue. Conner was patient, though, and his patience paid off as he knew it would. The swings of the Masher were systematic, and once Conner was able to figure out its moves, Conner was able to slip past the club and slice deep into its thigh muscle. The Masher did not react other than to stumble, which exposed its chest. Conner drove the point of his sword deep into its body, far deeper than Conner wanted. For a moment the sword was stuck, but the Masher finally showed some emotion and jerked back with surprise and pain, allowing Conner to pull the sword out and jump free.
As pain began to sweep through the Masher’s body, its eyes went wide, and then it let out a scream of agony. Suddenly, the Masher went berserk and begin wildly swinging at Conner. At first, the wild swings were dangerous, but Conner was able to avoid them and move in for the kill. A second thrust of his sword went through the Masher’s chest, and it fell to the ground on its knees. It was still alive, so Conner dropped the grip on one of his swords and took the other in a two-handed grip. The Masher’s head came off with a single, sharp strike.
Conner did not wait to enjoy the victory. There were more to kill.
***
Hargon and Marila stopped short of the wall, ducking behind remains of a building from the village that had once housed the peasants who farmed the valley’s fields. The mass of goblins were still trying to pour through, but the holes in the wall were still too small for them all to rush through at once. In their frenzy, the goblins completely ignored their rear. Not one had turned to look at them, which allowed them to get close enough to smell their rancid stench.
Hargon took in a deep breath, and he began reciting the words of a spell that he should have already used. He did not dwell on his decision to leave the castle to try and find the Deceiver and kill him. As Emperor of Taran, he had made many poor choices, but he had also made many good ones, and even though he might only be remembered for the poor ones, he could not let his future actions be dictated by them. Plus, he also knew it was never too late to do the right thing.
As the words flew off his lips, he could feel the pull of the Web of Magic draw through him and out of him. He grabbed the necklace, feeling its warmth as it was a conduit to the power that he was bringing forth. As the spell ended, the words became loud enough to draw the attention of goblins at the periphery of the horde. They turned just in time to die.
This was the second time he had used the spell, and now that he knew its effects, he could make it even more powerful. The first time was on this same field when the goblin horde that had chased the survivors from Tyre had run out of the forest racing after them. Thousands of goblins had been killed in one single cast of the spell. Now it was time for not only goblins to die, but those huge Stone Ogres as well. In his mind, he was able to direct the power of the spell so that it was no higher than the wall, else the Elves who were on top would be struck down.
The spell exploded out from his hands in a shuddering wave that was only visible because it distorted the ground around it. Grasses that were still sticking up through the mud bent over. Small patches of loose mud and standing water were picked up and flew against the horde of goblins. As it struck the goblins, they were tossed into the air and against their fellow creatures. For a moment, they flopped about, stunned with surprise. Then as one, they grabbed their heads as the power of the spell entered their skulls through their ears, filling the space with a pressure that caused extreme pain. Almost as one, they all grabbed their heads and darted about or fell to the ground screaming.
Hargon could almost feel their pain, and he reveled in it. The power to kill thousands at once gave him the strength to keep standing, even though the effects of the spell were making his knees shake. As the goblins fell and died, his smile grew.
At the far side of the fallen horde, the sight of warriors fighting a Stone Ogre was revealed. They were still fighting, despite the goblins falling down around them. For a moment, he was surprised to see them out in the open. Then, as blackness started to narrow his vision, he felt some empathy for their imminent death. It was a shame that some of his allies would fall victim to his spell, but that was the nature of warfare. Sometimes sacrifices had to be made.
The last thing he saw before blackness overwhelmed him was the Stone Ogre falling to the ground.
***
Denn bounced away from the strike of the Stone Ogre, trying to distract it so that Herrin could jump on its back and thrust a sword through its eye. They had already been successful once with this tactic, but this Stone Ogre was quicker than last, and Herrin wasn’t able to get on its back. His arms were sore from striking its stone-skin, but he couldn’t worry about his pain or fatigue.
Then the Stone Ogre reared back and let out a horrifying cry of pain. It grabbed its head with its own hands and stumbled backward into the wall. It thrashed about, continuing to scream. Herrin, who had been about to jump on its back darted away, confused as well.
Denn looked about, and all his men were standing about, confused. Those that had formed a perimeter to keep the goblins at bay were warily watching the goblins around them thrash about as well. Moments later, all the goblins were on the ground, each letting out a last cry of pain. And then they were dead.
That was when Denn felt the tingle on the back of his
neck. It was like the hot breezes that swept across the center of their island in the middle of summer. He turned his head looking around to see if someone had touched him. He even reached back to touch his neck to feel for blood.
And then the feeling was gone, just as were the sounds of battle. There was not much that surprised highly trained warriors, but the sudden and obviously painful death of the goblins and Stone Ogres was one that left the Sak’Hurai is stunned silence. They looked at one another, then at the dead bodies.
Denn walked over to the Stone Ogre and rapped his sword across its chest, but it did not move. It’s eyes were still wide open, and its face frozen in a final painful contortion. Shouting and the clang of steel caught his attention. It was all coming from inside the walls. Everything outside the walls other than his own men were dead.
They had trained for many things, but this was one that he had not prepared for. He could only guess as to what happened, but he did not have time to consider it. Later, when the battle was won and they were sharing a victory feast, he would finally think about what he had seen. They were warriors, and there was still fighting to be done.
“Inside!” he shouted.
His Sak’Hurai did not need to be given a second command. They raced for the holes in the walls to join the fighting. Their spirits were up as they knew the battle was about to be over, and it was about to be won by them.
***
Conner’s arms burned with pain and fatigue. He had to force his body to lift the sword, and he cringed with the thought of the pain that would come as the spiked club came crashing down at his head. He could not parry the blow as if it were a sword. He could only deflect it, redirecting the club past his body. He was spending all his energy simply defending against the Masher and had nothing left to fight back. The end was coming, and that only made him angrier. To keep from letting those thoughts fill his mind, he let out a scream and forced his body to charge forward, but the Masher easily parried his attack.
The tickle in the back of his mind caught him off guard. Fortunately, he was on the offensive, so a slight hesitation did not cause him to miss a parry. The Masher did, however, detect Conner’s hesitation and quickly went on the offensive himself. Conner danced away, avoiding the Masher’s attack by retreating. He hoped the tickle meant Hargon had been found, but he knew he could not count on him. This battle would need to be won without magic, and they just did not have enough fighters to do that.
At least he would go down fighting.
A yell from behind him caused him to quickly look back at the wall. He expected to see the stream of goblins pouring through and the desperate fighters trying to fend them off, but he only saw a wide gaping hole and no goblins. He turned his attention back the Masher and then he was surrounded.
The yelling continued as the Sak’Hurai swept across the courtyard, engaging the Mashers. There were still many goblins that remained alive, but suddenly there were many more allies than enemies.
Denn stepped in front of Conner and took the massive club with both swords crossed together. The club was stopped inches from Denn’s head, but the crossed swords held the club long enough for other Sak’Hurai to jump at the Masher and brought it down quickly.
Conner lowered his swords and let himself breathe. His chest heaved as he saw the battle turn in their favor. It did not take long for the Sak’Hurai and the Knights to join together and finish off the remaining goblins and Mashers.
In only moments the battle had turned from defeat to victory, and the thought did not escape Conner. The weight of what had happened fell on his shoulders, and he shuddered as his emotions overwhelmed him.
A silent stillness filled the courtyard as the last of the Mashers fell. There were many dead, but many, many more were still alive. Most were wounded in one fashion or another, but they were alive. Conner walked among the goblins and Mashers, ensuring that they were all dead.
Glaerion, still holding his daggers, walked up to Conner. “No more goblins are coming in through the wall.”
“Is it over? How?”
“Massive magic,” Glaerion replied.
“Hargon?”
Glaerion nodded. “He came through for us.”
Conner smiled. “Like I knew he would.”
“You Humans continue to surprise me.”
Conner was about to reply with a humorous retort, but a shout from atop the wall cut him off.
“Open the gate!”
With weary steps, they made their way across the courtyard.
It took several minutes for both the outer gate and the inner gate to be opened. The timbers that blocked the gates needed to be pulled back, so the doors could swing open. Once the outer gate was opened, it was quickly closed. By the time the inner gate was opened, the outer gate was sealed.
Conner recognized the black robes of Hargon and ran forward. He was being held up by Marila, who was surprisingly able to support him and drag him through the gate.
Conner and Glaerion reached him together and took over for Marila, who stepped aside.
“Is he hurt?” Conner asked.
“He exhausted his power,” Glearion said. “He will need to rest. Bring him into the castle.”
“No!” Hargon creaked out. He tried to push Glaerion away, but he was not strong enough.
“Your body is rebelling against the power that you used. If you do not rest, you will die.”
A circle of people now surrounded them.
“No time!” Hargon croaked out.
“I saw what you did,” Glaerion said. “That is a spell that should have killed you.”
Hargon shook his head firmly. “Ark of Life.”
“What did he do?” Conner asked.
“What he should have done hours ago,” King Illichian said from behind him. His words dripped with anger.
“He did it, though,” Glaerion defended.
“Not soon enough. Look how many are dead. Their lives are on him!”
Hargon glared at the king. “It is not over.”
“Right. The Deceiver is still alive. We need to find him and kill him.”
“No. The battle!” Hargon said. “There’s more!” He straightened himself up and stepped forward, but his knees gave out, and he almost stumbled to the ground, but Glaerion and Conner caught him.
“He’s trying to tell you there’s another army out there,” Marila said.
All heads turned towards her.
“Yes!” Hargon said. “Another army.”
King Illichian stepped up to Marila and said, “What is this other army? What do you know of this?”
Marila looked up at him, afraid not for herself, or what might happen to her, but for what might happen to these people. “I did not know about it. They are making machines in the woods, and they will be coming soon. They are soldiers and will be a much more powerful army.”
“There are still many of us that can fight,” Conner said. “Hargon will rest up, and he’ll kill them like he did the goblins.”
Hargon looked up at Conner with a painful expression. He knew that he had expended all his energy on killing the goblins and would have little left for the next battle. For a brief moment, he was impressed at the Deceiver’s tactic, but the moment quickly passed. He became angry at himself for missing what was such an obvious move. He could not tell Conner he had nothing left, but he would give all that he had, even if it killed him.
“And if they are all as strong as those beasts that fought with the goblins?” the king asked. “It took all of your strength just to kill one. What if the Deceiver brings an army of those?”
“We will fight. We have no other option.”
“No,” King Illichian said. “We have an option. At least to save our people.”
“Lord Martin’s plan?”
The King nodded his head. “We get as many out that back exit as we can.”
“We buried it in rocks,” Glaerion said.
“Then unbury it!” King Illichian snapped.
&n
bsp; A large shadow crossed over them, and they all looked up to see not one, but two Dragons circling overhead. They both descended quickly and landed in an open area next to the wall.
“You now know of the full extent of the Deceiver’s army?” Myllia asked. She slowly turned her head to look around at the weary soldiers. They had all fought valiantly, and won the battle because each of the races was willing to fight as one, and sacrifice as needed. It gave her hope for the future of the world.
“Did you know of them?” King Illichian demanded.
“No, King Illichian,” Myllia replied. “I did not know of them. They were well hidden to the north in the mountains that you see on the horizon. I only saw them as I arrived just now. They have been marching south for some time, probably since yesterday. They are almost here. It is good that you did not try and escape to the north, else you would have run into them and been slaughtered.”
“How big?” Conner asked.
“Ten thousand or so. And Marila is correct. They are not goblins. They are men. True soldiers and not just battle fodder like the goblins were.”
“How could an army of that size hide?”
“Our eyes were focused down here, and to the west, and not to the north.”
The champions looked silently from one to another, each unwilling to share their thoughts openly.
Finally, King Illichian asked one of the questions they had all been thinking. “Where are they from?”
“They look Human. Maybe from this world. Maybe the Deceiver reached out to all the lands of the world and found allies to help him fight his war. With enough promises, you can convince the willing to do anything you want.”
Hargon nodded and pulled out the necklace that hung from his neck. “Before he can conquer this world, he needs this necklace. Conquering Taran first prevented them from sending my Taran Centurions to help us. Forcing me to expend my power on the goblins first has allowed him to send his strongest army after us. He knew we could defeat the goblins. He knew we could defeat the Stone Ogres. He knew we could defeat those ugly bare-chested beings. He knew we would do it with magic to keep casualties to a minimum. Now, he sends his true army, and we are wounded and weak.”