“Like I told you, the colonel’s an idiot. If he brings half of those men back, he will be lucky. He has no idea how many goblins are out there, but he goes marching out like some hero from the sagas.”
Philip shrugged, and said, “But that idiot will put you in chains when he comes back.”
Atock arched his eyebrows, “Are we going to allow that to happen? Couldn’t we stop it?”
“What?!!” Flare, and several other people, said at the same time.
“Atock, you’re talking about armed rebellion!” Philip burst out.
“Atock! I will not have it. I got myself into this, and I'll handle it. If Colonel Holt survives today’s battle, then I'll surrender to him.” Flare held Atock’s gaze for several seconds, before continuing. “I will not allow my decisions to negatively affect you. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.” Atock said quietly.
There was silence for several moments before Mikela spoke up, “Sir. All of the soldiers are through the gate.”
“All right Mikela, Have them close it up.” Flare said.
Mikela left with Heather, towards the gate house. Moments later, the gate came together with a loud CRASH!
“What do we do now?” Callin asked with his hands held out.
“We wait.” His brother, Trestus replied quietly.
The wait was unbearable. Flare didn’t know what to hope for. If the force was wiped out, then he was right, and most likely dead. If the force defeated the goblins, then he was wrong and under arrest. Perhaps he should have held his tongue, and simply followed orders.
The time passed slowly. At first, he had tried to pass the time by correcting the positioning of the soldiers on the walls, but he quickly ran out of things to correct. He finally gave up, and returned to the western wall to watch for the soldiers' return.
It was mid afternoon, when the first warriors were spotted approaching the gate. Unfortunately, the warriors were not human, they were goblins. A large number of them moving rapidly toward the fort.
Flare was standing on the walkway above the gate, when they were first spotted. Turning back toward the center of the fort, Flare spotted Heather moving along the base of the wall. “Heather. Get to the gate, and make sure it’s secured!”
He returned to the outer wall, and attempted to get an idea for how many goblins were approaching. He quickly gave up, as the numbers kept swelling. The emotions surging through Flare confused him. He was relieved to be right and devastated also. And with that many goblins, what chance did they have of holding the fort?
Atock, Philip, and Enton were out of breath after sprinting to Flare’s location. They stopped, and with hands on hips, tried to catch their breath.
“Flar,... Flare. How many are there?” Atock asked breathlessly.
“I lost count. There are thousands, maybe tens of thousands of them.” Flare answered.
“Well, what do we do?” Philip asked.
“If we concentrate our forces on this side of the fort, we should be able to hold it long enough for a messenger to catch up with General Andatell’s forces.”
Flare spotted Heather running towards them. “Heather!” Flare yelled, waving at her, “We are going to need to take a message to Gener....” He stopped speaking as he became aware of the concern on her face. “Heather, what’s wrong?”
“There are a good thousand soldiers outside the eastern wall.” Heather called up to him.
“Excellent, I didn’t know the fort was expecting any more reinforcements.” Flare's relief turned to dread, as he read the bad news on her face.
Heather spoke in a quiet voice, “There human, but there not our soldiers. They look like mercenaries to me. We’re surrounded, and I think we’re in trouble.”
Chapter 11
Flare was the first to reach the top of the eastern wall, and his hopes were dashed as he looked out over the valley.
Nearly a thousand human soldiers were spread out in a semi-circle. They were advancing closer to the fort, and Flare’s first thought was that they were preparing to attack. But they advanced, and stopped about five hundred yards from the fort. The ends of the semi-circle were closer to the fort than the middle. It was, he knew, an old military tactic. If the defenders of the fort attacked the center of the mercenaries, both ends of the semi-circle could swing around and engulf the defenders.
“Adel protect us,” Callin said quietly.
“We're sure their unfriendly?” Flare asked, knowing there could be no doubt.
“Probably mercenaries. They must have snuck through the border in small groups.” Philip answered in disgust.
“Well, what do we do now?” Trestus asked. “They make it kind of hard to focus our forces on the west wall, and how are we going to get a messenger through all that?”
“Remain calm,” Flare said, projecting a calmness he didn’t feel. “If we remain poised, we might be able to find a way out of this.”
Murleen, was staring at the ground, looked up suddenly, “The magi!? Couldn’t they send a warning message without having to leave the fort?”
“Of course!” Flare exclaimed, his face lighting up. “Where are Mikela and Enstorion?”
They found the magi having a heated argument in the center of the fort. Mikela was standing, with her hands resting on her hips, shouting at Enstorion. She was using all the foul words Flare had ever heard, and a few he hadn’t.
Enstorion was leaning against a small waist high wall, with his arms folded across his chest, refusing to look at Mikela. The redness of his cheeks and neck, however, betrayed his rising anger. He interrupted Mikela in mid sentence, “Mikela! It will not work, neither one of is strong enough.”
“Mikela! Enstorion! What is the matter with you two? Why are you arguing in the middle of the street like a couple of children?” Flare shouted at the bickering magicians.
Enstorion met Flare’s gaze, but didn’t say a word. Mikela, however, wasn’t so quiet.
“Flare. I’m trying to tell him that we could send a message using our magic. He doesn’t think we can do it, and I don’t know why.”
“Enstorion, why won't it work?”
Enstorion looked up and answered, “Because I have already tried it.”
Flare’s hopes evaporated at Enstorion's words.
“There appears to be some sort of magical barrier preventing us from sending messages out. As much as I tried, I couldn’t punch through it.”
“Next time you get a wonderful idea like that, tell me first. Okay?” Flare said, staring at Enstorion. His anger grew when Enstorion just stared back. After another moment or two of silence, Flare rubbed his eyes. “All right, tell me about the barrier. Does it keep you from using magic?”
“No. My other spells are working. I think it is a magical isolation spell. In essence, magic performed on this side of the barrier, which affects things on this side of the barrier works fine. Magic performed on the outside of the barrier, which affects things on the outside of the barrier, will also work. But for magic to affect something on the other side of the barrier, the magic must be strong enough to break the barrier.”
“And you couldn’t break the barrier?” Flare asked, already knowing the answer.
“No.” Enstorion admitted, wincing as he did so.
“Well, how about if you and I combined our magic? Would that be strong enough to possibly break the barrier?” Mikela asked calmly, her earlier anger all forgotten.
“No, I don’t think so. I threw everything I had against it, and I couldn't even feel it fluctuate.” Enstorion paused, “It took a really powerful magician or several powerful magicians to create such a barrier.”
“That’s bad, huh?” Flare asked, noticing as he spoke that Mikela had gone white. But he already knew the answer, thanks to Cassandra.
Mikela, not Enstorion, answered the question. “If that’s the case, you’re going to have to find another way to get a message out.”
Flare returned to the western wall. He had thought his mood
couldn't go any lower, but he was wrong. The magnitude of the host arrayed against them was overwhelming. The goblins were arranged in a semi-circle which stretched from one mountain to the other. They have setup camp half a mile downhill from the fort, and were settling in for a siege.
Flare watched the enemy for a while, and was getting ready to inspect the eastern wall, when he noticed some movement amongst the goblins’ line.
Dusk was approaching and it was hard to see, but he continued to study the movement that had caught his attention. The movement slowly turned into three riders, slowly approaching the fort. Flare watched until the riders came to a halt halfway between the fort and goblin encampment.
‘Well, if they want to talk, let’s talk.’ Then, turning to the nearest soldier, he said “Quickly, find Atock and Philip, and get three horses ready.”
Turning back to look at the riders, he could tell that they were patiently waiting.
Flare studied the three riders as he, Atock, and Philip rode out to meet them.
The rider in front, who had to be the leader, was a tall muscular man. He sat proudly on his horse, observing the guardians as they approached. He wore a black cloak and a sword handle poked up over his shoulder. He had long curly brown hair that was very unkempt, and a short thin mustache. He was a proud cruel-looking man.
To the right and slightly behind the leader, was a tall dangerous looking warrior. As he was in the saddle it was hard to judge his height. Even so, Flare guessed he was close to Enton's height, perhaps just shy of seven feet. He was a muscular man, his head was shaved clean, and he had a round full face. An ugly vicious scar ran across his throat. He watched the guardians in a bored manner.
The third and final member of the opposing trio was a blond woman. She was simply beautiful, but her face lacked any warmth though, any compassion. She had white-blond hair that came down between her shoulders, and smooth tan skin. She had full lips and high cheek bones. She was very slim, slimmer than most of the human women that he knew. She watched Flare and his companions the way a butcher watches a pig in a pen. The only softening on her face was momentary, and it happened when she glanced at the man in black she was following.
Judging by their appearance, all three of these warriors were dangerous fighters.
As they approached, Flare rode in front, with Atock to the left rear and Philip to the right rear. He had chosen Atock and Philip, because of all the guardians; he trusted these two the most. The fact that they were intimidating had also crossed his mind.
Flare reined his horse in, a good ten yards from the opposing leader.
“Who are you, and what do you want with us?” Flare asked, trying to muster all the bravado he could. He hoped he sounded confident, not hesitant or scared.
“My name is Prince Zalustus. Isn’t it obvious what I want? I want that fort.” He rested his right hand on the pommel of the saddle, and waved his left hand back at the assembled goblins. “You know you don’t have a chance. Why don’t you make it easy on both of us, and surrender?”
“Surrender?!” Flare asked, incredulous. “You can’t be serious! You may have the advantage in numbers, but we only have to defend the walls.” A lie suddenly occurred to him, and he added quickly. “Reinforcements will arrive any day now, and you will be driven back.”
Prince Zalustus laughed, “You’re lying, Flare. I know that no reinforcements are on the way. You're on your on.”
Stunned, Flare asked, “How do you know my name?”
“I know quite a lot about you. You may not know it, but we're brothers.” Before Flare could object, Zalustus continued, “Oh, I don’t mean brothers related by birth, but we are brothers, nevertheless.”
“You're insane.” Flare said.
The man and woman behind Zalustus tensed, but Zalustus only smiled. “If you surrender the fort to me, I personally guarantee that all of your soldiers will be allowed to live.”
Flare shook his head, “You will have control of that fort, when we're dead. We won't surrender it to you, and we will make the price of taking Mul-Dune very high.”
Zalustus nodded gravely. “So be it. Perhaps we will meet on the battlefield. If you have such a longing to die defending Mul-Dune, I will be glad to accommodate you.” He turned and started back toward the other two warriors. After a moment, he stopped and turned back, tossing a bag to Flare.
Flare instinctively caught the bag.
“I almost forgot that I brought you something.” Grinning, Zalustus turned and led his warriors back toward their encampment.
Flare paused a moment and opened the bag and looked in. He recoiled in disgust at the sight of Colonel Holt's severed head. He quickly closed the bag and then sighing, he led his companions back toward the fort.
After several hours of preparation for the impending attack, Flare was exhausted. He didn’t expect the goblins to attack until the morning, but that left less than ten hours for them to get prepared.
Fifty soldiers would be stationed along the eastern wall, with the remaining soldiers placed on the western wall. If the mercenaries to the east attacked and suffered too many losses, then it might be possible for a messenger to sneak through. So it followed, that the mercenary force would guard the eastern road, and not attack.
The few shopkeepers and residents would be on guard within the fort, to extinguish fires, or stop any goblins that got through. They would also help keep the soldiers supplied with weapons and act as messengers between the two groups of defenders.
Even though the fort had been reduced to a skeleton force, the stores and provisions had been meticulously maintained. There was plenty of food to withstand a long siege, but Flare was afraid that they would run out of soldiers well before they ran out of food.
Weapons and armor were also well stocked, but without a miracle, they would soon be out of soldiers to use the weapons.
It was well after midnight, when Flare finally retired to bed. He didn't even bother taking his clothes or armor off. He didn’t sleep much, and all too soon, a soldier woke him up.
“Sir. A large force is approaching from the west.”
Flare was up and moving immediately. The sun was just coming up as he sprinted for the wall, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he ran. He reached the wall moments later, and was dismayed at the sheer number of the approaching goblins. There were no discernible formations; the troops were spread out in a long line, marching toward the fort. Some carried ladders, some carried ropes with hooks, but they all were heavily armed.
Flare quickly gathered all the squad leaders. “All right. Listen up. They will try to get a foothold on the wall, and pour their troops into the breach. We cannot allow them to get a hold on the wall for even a moment!” He spoke slowly to emphasize the importance. “I think you all know what goblins do to their prisoners, so don’t hold anything back. Atock will be in charge on the northern part of the wall, Philip will take the southern part of the wall, and I will lead the defense of the middle. Any questions?” After a brief silence, Flare continued, “All right. Then may the gods watch over us, and grant us a victory this day. Dismissed!”
He watched the men separate and head to their assigned posts. They were young and looked scared to death. But they had a right to be scared; there was a good chance that most of them would not be returning from this siege.
Flare took up position with his troops, and awaited the attack. He was wearing chain armor and had a sword strapped to his back, but he was carrying a pike as his main weapon. The pike was a combination ax head and sickle head mounted on a six foot staff. It could be used to push the ladders away from the wall, or to strike at the goblins before they could get in sword reach. The sword on his back was in case the goblins got onto the wall. The sword would be much easier to wield in such close quarters.
The goblins attacked with a relentless ferocity that simply amazed and disgusted him. The goblins in the front immediately placed their ladders and began climbing furiously.
The defenders used
the pikes to thrust the ladders from the walls. When a goblin got close to the top of the wall, the razor sharp pikes were used to hack at the goblins, who fell screaming into the throng below.
It was sickening to watch the goblins callously throwing their lives away. But for every goblin that died, another three seemed to take its place.
After two hours, Flare was exhausted, and his arms felt like they were going to fall off. He swung the pike and sliced the head off of a goblin, who had gotten too close, and then began searching for another attacker.
A cheer rose from the soldiers assembled on the walls, and Flare couldn’t believe his eyes, as the goblins began retreating. The goblins left their dead and dying piled in heaps at the bottom of the wall.
Flare set the pike down, and looked up and down the defenders’ line, looking for causalities. He didn’t see any wounded, but he did see Atock and Philip approaching quickly from their respective directions.
Philip reached Flare first, with Atock close behind. “They didn’t even get a foot on the top of this wall, and did you see how fast they ran from the battle?” Philip said, grinning.
“But they will be back, and soon,” Atock said. “They probably thought we would fall apart. When they come back, they will not make the same mistake again.” His words smothered the relief that Flare had been feeling.
“He’s right. This fort was well constructed. They probably will attack differently next time.” Flare turned and look out over the western wall, “As long as we have a break in the fighting, let’s get the townspeople up here with some food.” He sighed before continuing, “The gods only know when we will get our next break.”
Much to Flare’s surprise; the goblins took their time and didn’t reappear until early in the afternoon. But Flare had been right in assuming that they would attack differently. Three monstrous siege towers rolled slowly toward the fort. They had been hidden in the edge of the forest.
The Guardians: Book One of the Restoration Series Page 19