Metal and Magic: A Fantasy Journey

by Steve Windsor

  And just as the full company of goblins had turned to their right, hundreds of arrows rained down from the elven archers. From Ealrin’s viewpoint, every arrow claimed the life of a goblin. Truly the elves of Thoran were unparalleled in their deadly accuracy.

  Goblins fell in every direction as the missiles rained down on them. As the elves let loose with their tenth volley the men on horseback charged. Boots thudded against the earth as men wielding spears ran behind them. Ealrin was not afraid, but neither was he quite prepared for what happened next. His horse galloped among the leaders, right next to Holve. Goblins were in disarray. Some were standing to receive the charge. Most were fleeing the opposite direction. Only one hundred yards now separated them from the horde. And then fifty. Twenty. Ten.

  Ealrin swung his sword just as his horse broke through the goblin line, or what was left of it anyway. With each swing of his blade a goblin fell. Some put up a fight, their eyes filled with hatred. Most, however, began to flee in fear.

  The gray skinned monsters did just as they had anticipated. After being peppered with 400 arrows, there were few goblins left who wished to continue the fight. Some fled for their boats that were down by the river and began to row for their ships out at sea. A large group of them began to run away from the castle walls, knowing that death met them at the left and right.

  A mighty shout arose from the dwarves. The goblins soon realized their fate was sealed.

  From the walls of River Head came a triumphant cheer as those who stood defending the city realized they had been saved. Ealrin turned his gaze to the walls of the city. They did not stand as high or as impressive as those in the capital, but they had done their job.

  As the last of the goblins fell, the gates to the city opened up and a handful of the city's defenders came out to greet their saviors. At their front was a tall, dark-haired man. He stood a head taller than any of those around him and was broader than two of his fellow River Head dwellers put together. Ealrin had always thought Holve was the sourest person he had ever met. This man made Holve look cheery. His brow was creased into a perpetual scowl.

  "It's about time you showed up Holve Bravestead!" he shouted as he walked out with the others. He sneered as he spoke. He stopped beside Holve's horse and stood leaning on the sword he brought with him.

  Holve removed himself gingerly from his horse and stood beside the dark haired man.

  "Well, if I had known you would have been able to handle six hundred goblins and five of their crummy excuses for ships I would have stayed back in Thoran where the receptions are more welcoming!"

  With that, Holve put a hand on the man's shoulder and smiled at him. Ealrin had dismounted his horse while the two spoke to each other. He could see the last of the goblins being taken care of by elves, men, and dwarves.

  More battles fought. More blood spilled.

  The swords had only lost a handful of men, maybe twenty at most. Would this good fortune last?

  "Well Gregory Riverson, it has been too many winters since I've laid eyes on you." Holve said as Ealrin came walking up next to him. "Have you gotten fatter?"

  Gregory snorted and looked up and down at Holve.

  "I haven't gained as much as you have lost, you twig!" he said as he slapped Holve on the back.

  Holve let out a grunt of pain.

  "Well, I've seen a lot of action in the last month, Gregory," Holve said as he nursed his back with one hand. "I don't suppose River Head could spare some men who'd like to see some action themselves?"

  With this statement, Gregory grunted and scowled at Holve. Ealrin was surprised a man could look so sour.

  "Does the king march to war? We had heard rumors of trouble in the south as the goblins sailed toward us. Does Thoran march to the Southern Republic again?"

  "That he does," replied Holve. He walked back to his horse and cleaned off his spear on a cloth that he produced from a pack. And as gingerly as he dismounted his horse, he climbed back up as he turned back to Gregory. "We are to meet him as quickly as we can. Round up what men you can spare and march out with us. We go to aid the south."

  ***

  Gregory, Ealrin would learn, was not just a large man with a belly that was threatening to betray a formerly fit individual's health but the mayor of River Head. Once the Swords had gathered outside of the city, Gregory began shouting orders in ten different directions. He was not only commanding men to prepare to march, but also in delegating tasks to be done in his absence.

  "See that the next shipment from Beaton is ordered properly when it comes. I don't want medicinal herbs being sent off to the kitchens of the inns again!"

  "What are you doing, sitting there like a lump? You're marching south with the rest of the men. Get to the city gates now!"

  "Someone clear up those goblin bodies outside the walls! See that they are burned! They'll start to wreak by tomorrow and spread disease like wildfire if they aren't taken care of!"

  "You there!" Gregory pointed to a man who was shaping a stone outside of his shop. Most of the buildings in River Head were made of stone, due to the proximity of the mountain quarries. Wood was used as a decorative trim around them, but defense was the main reason these houses were built in such a fashion. Barely any of them were scratched after the battle. The shopkeeper looked up from his work, trying to see from which direction the shouting was coming from.

  "Yes, you lazy bones! You're in charge of this section of wall getting repaired while we march! I want those battlements looking superb when we return!"

  The bewildered looking shop owner was following the finger Gregory was pointing up to the part of the wall that the goblins had managed to damage with their war machines. Along the wall, every thirty paces rose a tower meant for surveying the outer villages of River Head, and helping to defend against enemy attacks. This particular one had collapsed in on itself and was a heap of rubble atop the otherwise untouched wall.

  The shop owner was not acknowledging his task swiftly enough for the demanding Gregory, who was now marching closer to him as he continued to gaze upward.

  "Do you understand me, Ivan? I want that tower back in pristine condition!"

  Though Ealrin didn't think he would enjoy marching south with Gregory because of his countenance, he surely wouldn't mind sharing some of the man's command of people. Whenever Gregory spoke, most people, other than Ivan, who was now taking a beating with a wooden rod that Gregory carried around with him, obeyed without question.

  "He's a hard man, but a good mayor," said Holve as he walked up next to Ealrin. He had spent his time since arriving in River Head arranging the weapons from the armory to be sorted between those who were marching. Mostly it was breastplates, shields, spears, and swords. Every other man wore a helmet, but others had deemed them unnecessary. Some had weapons of their own making, but most carried the same steel sword that had been produced here in River Head for occasions such as these.

  After men collected their weapons and armor they headed to one of the forgers in the city to have them inspected and sharpened, and then they reported to the city gates to be assigned to one of the captains who were the leaders of the army of River Head.

  Again, King Thoran's doctrine of only employing a few men for the army and recruiting his civilians only in the hour of need. There were around twenty captains, each with two hundred men, dwarves, and elves. The army that would march from River Head would be four thousand strong.

  Looking out over the men, and then remembering the goblin attack, Ealrin had a thought that weighed heavily on his mind.

  "Holve," he asked as the host marched from River Head with the Swords at the lead. "If goblins only fight battles they are sure they will win, why did so few fight against a city as great as River Head? I spoke with Gregory and he believes no more than one thousand originally made landfall to attack the city. It would seem that they were terribly outnumbered."

  "I've been thinking the same thought," Holve said with a sigh. "And so far I'm without an answer.
Perhaps they thought the city would not be as well defended. It's been many generations since the goblins have come as far as River Head. Maybe they didn't know how many dwelled there now. Still..."

  Holve let his sentence die out as they headed south. His brow was furrowed in such a way that it reminded Ealrin more of Gregory's disposition, not Holve's typical jovial manner.

  "Still," he continued, "I've known many a goblin army to turn away from a larger city to lay siege to smaller villages if they believe the pickings are easier. I hope it was nothing more than a goblin leader's lust for blood than anything else."

  "But do you remember the armada of goblin ships we saw on the White Wind?" Ealrin prodded Holve. "What we saw here could only have been a fraction of the ships we saw that day. Where did the others sail to?"

  The female soldier Ealrin only knew as Milady rode up beside them. When she spoke, Ealrin realized it was the first time he had heard her voice. He also noted a small amount of fear in her voice. He looked properly into her face and realized that he recognized some of her features. It was as if he had seen someone else share the same face.

  "Commander Holve, I have been listening to your conversation and I fear for the king. We must quicken our pace if we are to meet him and give him aid."

  Holve turned in his settle towards the dark-haired lady in armor. He smiled at her reassuringly. He bowed his head as he spoke.

  "Milady, we will march as fast as we can. Do not fear, we will see your father soon."

  Chapter 32: The Long March South

  Ealrin's mind was still uneasy three days after their march for Loran from River Head began. The army marched down the only road that led from the capital city to the border of the Southern Republic. The same road Ealrin and the swords had traveled north on after being attacked by the Raiders. Mountains rose on either side of them, creating the valley path that they now took. The terrain did not hamper the army from marching, but Ealrin was sure they would have made better time over the flat plains of the Southern Republic than the mountains that now surrounded them.

  He thought he might be as concerned for the king as Teresa was. Teresa, of course, being the king’s daughter and a member of the swords. He could see the resemblance now. How much the two favored each other. The longhaired young and seemingly carefree girl Ealrin had seen in the painting in the halls of castle Thoran, however, was gone.

  In her place stood this warrior. A young woman who had seen countless battles and defended her father fervently. Ealrin had watched her fight in the charge of River Head. She was skilled, ruthless, and relentless. Her two swords had flashed before her in a blur as she took to the battlefield on foot rather than on horseback. She was brave beyond comparison. And her soldiers followed her faithfully.

  What could have driven a princess to fight instead of keeping court?

  These questions and several more tugged at Ealrin's mind as the army marched. Curiosity for how Teresa came to be a member of the swords could not overtake his concern for King Thoran. Where had the other goblin ships sailed? What would the army find in the south?

  "Where has your mind traveled off to?" Asked Holve as he butted Ealrin with the blunt end of his spear.

  Though Holve had expressed some of the same concerns as Ealrin, his priority at the time was to continue marching the army south. Ealrin could tell that his companion and general were drained by being surrounded with so many people. He spoke in shorter phrases than normal and only dealt with people if it was necessary. He always had time for Ealrin, however, and he was glad for it. Even if it meant getting hit in the back with the shaft of the spear.

  "Currently I'm plotting how to break your weapon in half," Ealrin replied as he rubbed the spot Holve had hit.

  "And," he ventured, "I am concerned about the king. Suppose there is something going on that he missed or overlooked?"

  "Then I suppose this scout will tell us what it is," replied Holve as he looked ahead of him, squinting into the morning sun.

  Ealrin looked in the same direction Holve was, and indeed there rode a man on horseback with the unmistakable colors of Thoran on his chest.

  From this distance, Ealrin could see him waving his arm madly and driving his horse ever faster down the hill he rode on. Holve spurred his own horse ahead to meet him. Ealrin followed him and soon found Teresa at his side as well.

  "General Holve! General Holve! Raiders! Not two hours behind me!" The young scout was shouting with all his might as he came within earshot of the trio riding toward him.

  “Calm down, Cedric. Calm down.” Holve was telling the man. “Catch your breath.”

  Ealrin noticed a twinkle of concern in Holve's eyes. Were the Raiders really that close?

  “Sir.” Cedric said as he regained his breath and could speak without gasping for air. “The Raiders are two hours behind me. The other scouts...” He shook his head and looked down.

  “They enabled me to escape. We must make ready. They’ll be upon us soon.”

  Holve took a deep breath and looked to Teresa.

  “Any word or sight of the king?” she asked Cedric.

  “None Milady,” he said, knowing that it meant ill. “But, it did not seem that the Raiders had recently seen battle. It may be that the armies did not meet.”

  “I don’t see how that could be possible Cedric,” Holve said. “There’s only one road down to the south and we’re on it.” He looked back to Cedric and away from Teresa. How the king’s army had faired would be something to be discovered later. This threat was now what needed to be dealt with.

  Ealrin interjected to break the moment’s silence.

  “How many Mercs approach?”

  “Thousands,” Cedric answered. “Seven or eight thousand it seemed.”

  “Not enough to break the army of the king,” Holve said, seemingly to relieve Teresa. Ealrin could see that her normal hard face was softening for her father. How terrible it must be not to know.

  He had some knowledge of what that was like.

  “Hurry,” Holve said to them. “We have preparations to make. We’ll see to the king after we’ve death with this army.”

  “We’re outnumbered, Holve,” Ealrin said plainly. “Two to one.”

  Holve looked Ealrin in the eye.

  He had that same grin that he had greeted Ealrin with when he awoke from his injuries in Good Harbor, lying on a bed. It was genuine. It was also comforting to Ealrin, who was beginning to feel his hand tremble. He had fought in small skirmishes. The goblins at River Head were insignificant compared to what approached.

  “I told you. Strategy.”

  With that, Holve rode his horse back to the main army, with Teresa, Cedric, and Ealrin following behind.

  Ealrin prayed that strategy would work as well this time as it had in the past.

  ***

  Cedric’s estimate of the Merc’s timing and army had been accurate.

  From Ealrin’s viewpoint on the eastern cliff, he and a thousand other men, could see the approaching army. It was twice as large as the force they came to meet. The banners that they flew were not those of the Mercs that Ealrin had seen before in Breyland. Instead, these banners were gray with a white circle emblazoned on it. Inside the circle was a griffin with its wings and talons out, ready to strike.

  “Androlion’s own banner. That man has some nerve,” said Tory, who stood beside Ealrin. “Does he really think he’ll be a ruler of men?”

  Tory spat on the ground.

  “I’ve lost one too many to that fiend,” he said through gritted teeth. “This army of his will pay for his crimes!”

  Ealrin knew that Tory was still hurt from losing Gray. He could hear the sadness turned to anger. He prayed that Tory’s passion would guide them well as they attempted to defend the mountain pass.

  Again the forces were split in order to make the best use of the abilities of the races. The elves were camped on the western cliff of the mountains, opposite Ealrin and the men. They were to rain arrows down upon th
e raiders.

  The dwarves were positioned down in the pass. They were preparing to take the full brunt of the initial charge. Just like dwarves liked to battle: charging in swinging their maces and hammers high.

  Holve was betting that the Mercs wouldn’t risk climbing the cliffs to face the two forces above them. And so they would be peppered with arrows until they met the dwarves. Then both elves and men would charge down the mountainside to attack either flank. The cliffs were steep enough to prevent the Mercs from climbing up to meet them, but not so much as to prevent the army of Thoran from effectively racing down them.

  Ealrin hoped the strategy would work.

  As he watched, the army bearing gray standards approached. Unlike every Army Ealrin had marched with; this one showed no sign of any race other than man. No graceful elves marched with their bows hanging at their sides. No strong dwarves marched at the front of the army, hungry for the first charge of the battle. This was an army of men.

  Each man was decorated in the gray and white of Androlion. A griffin was painted on every shield and some men had them emblazoned on their chests. This army was different than the one that was camped outside of Breyland. They were more organized and better armed.

  There was something about it that unsettled Ealrin. It wasn't that their numbers were greater than their own. Ealrin had seen how strategy could overcome numbers alone. It was the large number who walked in the middle of the army wearing red hoods and cloaks that covered their armor. From here, Ealrin could see that some of these carried swords or daggers, but all of them had a staff that was affixed with a red stone at the top of it.

  "I've never seen that many speakers before," Tory said to Ealrin. "There aren't that many in the entire school of magic at Thoran, and that's including the young ones. Where did they acquire so much Rimstone?"

  There was no time to discuss the matter as the army came into the range of Elvin arrows it began to surge forward. A battle cry rose from the opposite cliff and arrows began to rain down upon the army. Gray shields were hoisted up to deflect the missiles that came raining down.