The watching and waiting was making them increasingly anxious and irritable.
Below them were rows of star-apple trees, and a large red barn, surrounded by grass and heather. A small brook trickled nearby.
Flain broke the silence suddenly. ‘Over there!’ he pointed. They peered into the distance, and saw several figures darting from tree to tree.
The hobs had come out of hibernation for their springtime raid.
As they neared the barn, unaware of their observers from the hill above, Kairos was able to get a good view of them. He had never seen a hob before, and he immediately concluded that they were one of the ugliest creatures in existence – uglier than a kobold from Logres, even. The green-greyish skin gave them a sickly appearance, and large canines, protruding from their lips like venomous daggers, were stained dark yellow from rot. The hobs brandished clubs and various farm tools, such as scythes, knives, and hoes, which were apparently scavenged from previous raids. A small breeze from the northwest blew towards Kairos and his group, carrying the stench of the hobs with it. Kairos gagged even at this distance. The worst of latrines smelled better.
‘Hold!’ Flain whispered, raising his hand. ‘Wait until they enter the barn. We may still have the element of surprise.’
The hobs lumbered along the path towards the barn, muttering among themselves. One of them devoured a star-apple as he walked, and tossed the core into the trees where Kairos and others lay hidden. One by one, the hobs entered the barn. Kairos counted at least a dozen of them. Two remained by the door as lookouts. Their occasional backward glances towards their comrades demonstrated that they found more interest in what was happening inside the barn rather than outside. They voiced their displeasure in their strange guttural language.
The knight and the squires stood. Their enemies were within their grasp now. They could hear the sounds of crashing and breaking from inside. They would defeat the hobs and fulfil their task.
‘Move forward,’ Flain whispered. ‘Now, while they are looting!’
Kairos looked around the star-orchard field one last time for any signs of other hobs, but saw none. He did see Flain’s look of approval. He nodded and gripped his staff as the others brandished their mana lances. Shah wielded his boomerang and tried to adopt a serious expression, but only looked like he had stomach cramps.
As they approached the barn and the two hobs posted outside, a feeling of disquiet wrapped around Kairos like a warm blanket. He finally had a chance to mete out the pent up rage that had been building inside of him.
Only Shah saw the look on Kairos’s face, and he trembled.
* * *
It was just before sundown.
Althea channelled mana into her mana lance, barely extending the crystal tip from its retracted length. She didn’t want to waste her mana to experiment with it like the other squires in her squad were doing. ‘I want to be at full strength when we meet the enemy,’ she told them when they asked her about it.
Claudius made some biting comment towards her. Althea made a rude gesture she had seen him use when no instructors were looking. Her other squadmate, Cassie, laughed. She didn’t like Claudius any more than Althea did. Claudius was about to make some retort or other when Lady Beatrice returned. They fell silent and came to attention.
‘Listen up. We are patrolling the north end of the star-apple grove, by the bend in the river. Squire Carrow,’ she gestured to Claudius, ‘you take point.’ Then, she pointed to Althea and Cassie. ‘Squire Avenal, you’re left flank. Squire Lee, you’re right flank. I’ll be rear guard. Take it slowly and communicate with the rest of us. Remember that you will probably smell the hobs before you see them. We’ll eventually meet up with the other squads patrolling the grove along the western edge. Any questions? No? Then move out.’
Althea moved to her position, about three metres to the left of the formation. Her leather cuirass creaked softly with every step. She hated wearing armour. She knew she needed it, but it smashed her boobs down. It wasn’t usually too bad, except when she had to breathe, which she frequently had to do. Right now she was very nervous, this being her first real mission. She was doing more breathing than usual. She tried to keep it to shallow breaths.
Althea knew Claudius was point because he was the best in the squad at magic. He was also the strongest fighter. She and Cassie were expected to hold their own, but the point position was usually the first to run into trouble. She didn’t mind the idea of Claudius being the first in trouble. She would come to his aid, of course, just as he would for her. But that didn’t mean they liked each other.
As they slowly crept along, to their right the sound of the river grew until it burbled softly beside them. The smell of star-apples reminded Althea of Stella, and the thought saddened her. She would never again taste one of Stella’s homemade star-apple pies. Althea took a deep breath, catching herself in her reverie. Thinking of the beloved dwarf now would do her no good, she had to focus.
They eventually found tracks. And another smell.
Claudius froze. Everybody froze, tension crackling in the air. ‘Shit,’ he whispered. ‘I stepped in shit. Hob shit, I think.’
‘I don’t give a shit,’ replied Lady Beatrice. ‘Keep going. We’re here to kill hobs, not worry about our pretty boots,’ she hissed.
Nodding, Claudius continued slowly forward.
The grove was made up of dozens of neatly ordered rows of star-apple trees. Althea appreciated the symmetry, the way the trees lined up as they walked. The wind shifted, and the smell of ripening star-apples was replaced by the stink of body odour and rotten cheese. Even at a distance it was so strong she could taste it in the back of her throat. ‘I smell hobs!’ she said in a breathless whisper. Lady Beatrice made a few hand gestures to the squad, and they turned as a unit to follow the smell.
In the fading light, about thirty metres ahead, they could just make out several hobs huddled together against a pile of brush that was waiting to be hauled off to be burned. Claudius tensed. ‘Wait,’ said Lady Beatrice in an urgent whisper, ‘get closer before you attack.’ Claudius relaxed his shoulders a little and kept moving forward on silent feet. Althea wasn’t surprised he was so good at being sneaky.
At ten metres away, they could clearly see half a dozen burly male hobs and several females. They were sleeping. Claudius began casting his lightning glyph. Althea quickly traced several runes in the air, layering one on top of the other. Her knowledge of runes was top of the class, her artistic ability was in the top five. Her mana was, well, probably last. She had to work to conserve mana. That’s what this spell was for.
The crackle of Claudius’s lightning broke the silence, making her jump. Clods of dirt fountained skyward and the screech of hobs dying filled the air.
‘Avenal! Lee! Close in!’ came Lady Beatrice’s orders.
Her spell wasn’t as quick or as flashy as the others, but as she finished the glyphs of the spell, the hob she was casting on thrashed on the ground, spasmodically clawing at its throat. A small crystal of ice blocked its trachea. Assuming the spell was a little tricky, but it only took a little knowledge of hob anatomy and a trickle of mana to do. Lady Beatrice seemed impressed, but her classmates less so.
As that hob died, another dropped from a low-hanging branch, landing in front of Althea just as she levelled her mana lance towards it. The hob had a crude spear, which it swung at her face. She managed to deflect the blow with her mana lance and, with a clumsy counterstrike, she cut into its forearm. It dropped the spear and turned, running away from the fight. Althea didn’t want to look like a coward, running away from a lone injured hob. She followed.
Lady Beatrice called after her, ‘Avenal! Stop!’
I can do this! I’m not afraid! Althea told herself. It was a single hob! She would finish it off and re-join the squad. She wasn’t really prepared, though, for how fast a hob could run when death was on its heels, and she was having trouble breathing in the stupid armour. She was just about to catch the hob
, she thought–
She didn’t even see the rope as the hidden hobs pulled it tight. Her feet swung out parallel to the ground as she hit the rope with her neck, partially crushing her windpipe. She was seeing stars before she hit the ground. Flat on her back, she was helpless, and the hobs who set the ambush closed in. They were grinning, sharp teeth gleaming against their dark silhouettes.
Althea panicked, shut her eyes, and braced herself for the worst.
* * *
‘Remember, no fire magic.’
Flain was adamant about this; he had repeated the order many times throughout the day. Kairos’s hopes sank, since his staff could do little else besides fire.
‘Can we cast it away from the trees?’ Shah asked.
‘No!’ Flain snarled. ‘Don’t use it anywhere. We don’t need to destroy the farm.’
Shah rubbed his chin in thought, then opened his mouth. ‘What if the hobs ran off the farm– Oof!’
Urzen elbowed Shah in the side, cutting him short.
‘Hush, Shah,’ Vaughn said, eyeing Flain’s furious visage with trepidation. ‘We’re nearing our quarry. No more talking.’
As Flain’s group approached, they almost gagged from the stench emanating from the two hob sentries by the barn door. Vaughn, who led the front of the group, pointed and signalled for the men to prepare themselves.
‘Now!’ Flain hissed, his moustache creasing upwards in a flicker of a smile.
Vaughn and Urzen cast first, drawing glyphs aimed at a set of boulders on the side of the main path. Kairos watched in wonder as two large rocks levitated into the air. It was great being on the side using magic. Another glyph by each squire sent the boulders flying toward the sentries at a high rate of speed.
Neither of the hobs noticed.
The first died upon impact; the rock slammed into his face with a sickening crack, crushing flesh, bone and brain. The other boulder fell short, crashing into the dirt and rolling to a stop in front of the second hob, who heard the sound and said something in the hob tongue. Upon hearing no answer, he walked over to his inert partner and knelt, scratching his head in puzzlement.
Urzen cursed under his breath.
‘Dammit, you missed, Urzen!’ Flain said quietly, no longer whispering. ‘All right, Shah! You’re up!’
The pudgy squire did not move. The remaining hob studied the boulders that had mysteriously appeared from the darkness, and understanding dawned on his dull face as he looked around in alarm. Kairos wanted to move in, but Flain ordered him to wait. He clenched and unclenched his sweaty hands around the staff anxiously.
‘Attack, you imbecile!’ Flain yelled, very loudly, pushing the bumbling Shah forward.
The squire, plainly lost in terror and confusion, raised his boomerang and gave a haphazard toss toward the hob. Kairos watched its flight. It honed in towards the target in a figure-eight pattern, but the hob turned, suddenly noticing the boomerang and nimbly side-stepped out of the way. The boomerang began the return trip back with startling accuracy and speed. Under normal circumstances, a typical handler would have been prepared to catch it but Shah stared at it dumbfounded, with his arms by his side, as the boomerang thwacked him in the head, knocking him onto his back. He lay unmoving, with his eyes rolled into the back of his head.
Flain pulled on his own hair and swore, no longer caring whether the hobs heard him or not.
Kairos had already charged forward. He felt the cold, clarity of battle descend upon him. The remaining hob screamed something indiscernible at his friends inside the barn. Now the element of surprise was gone, and the squires were drastically outnumbered. Their only advantage was magic, which Kairos did not have, but he did have the staff. There was no time to think clearly about what he was doing. He’d made the decision almost before the idea had formed in his mind.
Flain yelled something in the background, as Kairos charged forward with no intention of stopping.
At the last moment, Kairos bore down onto the lone hob at the barn door, who stared at him with the realisation of imminent doom. The hob tried to jab his spear, but Kairos knocked it aside with his staff and slammed it into the unprotected head with a crushing sound.
As Kairos recovered, more hobs streamed out of the barn, surrounding him. He raised his casting glove up, pretending to trace a glyph in the air. The hobs paused, wary; they had apparently seen magic before. Kairos used their hesitation to raise his staff. He remembered Flain’s warning: no fire. A bright light flared at the end and the hobs shrieked and backed away expecting the worse, but it was only a flare spell. Still, the hobs did not know the difference.
Kairos drew his sword with his other hand. There was anger in him – the image of Togram and Hargonnas flashed in his mind – and he brought his sword down hard onto the hob’s neck, slicing through leather, skin, muscle, and bone. Blood splattered as Kairos pulled his sword towards him to free it, leaving the hob almost decapitated with its neck dangling by skin and a thin sinew of muscle. The body pitched forward onto the ground.
The other hobs, noticing that the flare did nothing, cautiously edged closer. The nearest lunged with a look of pure savagery, aiming his spear at Kairos’s neck. Kairos parried the hard stroke with his sword and countered by slamming a fist into the hob’s face. He followed with a powerful sword thrust into the abdomen. The blow was so vicious that Kairos was sure he stabbed completely through the hob. The hob’s enraged expression changed to horror as it opened its mouth, revealing yellowed, rotting teeth, and then bright blood bubbled and spilled out. Kairos could smell the hob's putrid breath as it slumped to the ground.
More hobs surged forward before Kairos could extract his sword. He was outflanked at the barn entrance, and his teammates were still behind him. One hob swung its club, and Kairos barely raised his staff in time. He managed to block the attack, but the force of the blow nearly knocked the staff from his hand. Another hob grinned and thrust its spear at Kairos’s unprotected midriff.
Something flashed. A crackling sound filled the air, and the spear-wielding hob dropped to the ground, charred and smoking with a revolting stench of burnt meat. Another burst of magic and more hobs dropped. The other foes looked beyond Kairos and then at each other. Kairos dared a look behind him and saw Vaughn, Urzen, and Flain casting spells. One hob yelled something, which Kairos assumed meant, ‘Retreat,’ and the hobs suddenly scattered, but not before Kairos freed his sword and chopped into the neck of one of them.
‘After them!’ Flain hollered. ‘Don’t let them escape!’
The battle dissolved into a pursuit. Only half a dozen hobs remained alive, but they scattered and took off in opposite directions. Kairos chased after a pair, who were fast, but Kairos was faster, though he was beginning to breathe heavily. He caught one, slicing his sword into the hob’s legs. The blow carried months of pent up aggression and shame, and the hob’s legs buckled as it crashed into the turf, and Kairos began hacking away at the flailing creature.
The other hob continued running, but Vaughn suddenly appeared, traced a series of glyphs, and sent a lightning bolt into the back of a retreating hob. It gurgled and fell to the ground motionless.
Kairos gave a nod to Vaughn. ‘Thanks.’
‘You can thank me later,’ Vaughn said, then raised an eyebrow when he saw the mangled hob that Kairos had killed. ‘Wasn’t that a bit excessive?’
‘No.’ Kairos chopped his sword down into the dead hob's head for good measure. Better to ensure it was dead. He was panting heavily, both from the exertion and the adrenaline rush.
Vaughn’s hand involuntarily touched his face, his nose crooked since the fight with Kairos, as he stared at the mutilated hob. ‘I’ll say one thing for you, Azel,’ he said solemnly.
Kairos looked up from the hob and met Vaughn’s gaze, expecting trouble. ‘What?’
‘I’m glad that you’re fighting on my side.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Come on,’ he said slapping Kairos’s shoulder. ‘We have some hobs to finish.’
* * *<
br />
Althea was on the verge of losing consciousness. She had trouble breathing from where the rope struck her windpipe. I'm going to die, she thought, expecting the rain of attacks to come.
The blows never came.
She didn’t understand why the grins on the hobs’ ugly faces became looks of anger and horror. She didn’t understand what it meant when a large silhouette was suddenly standing atop of her, fighting off the nearest hobs. When she saw a hob aiming a makeshift arrow at her, she did remember that they liked to use poisoned weapons whenever they could. She tried to scramble to her feet. She heard the twang of the bowstring and the dull thud of the impact, but she didn’t feel any pain. Assuming it hit her armour, she didn’t worry about it right then, not that she had the time. Hobs were everywhere. She managed to stand and realised that Lady Beatrice had cleared a large circle around them.
Althea cursed her stupidity as she stood back to back with Lady Beatrice, levelling her mana lance at her enemies. She remembered that hobs liked to lay ambushes almost as much as they liked using poison. Now the hobs were grinning as they surrounded the pair. Lady Beatrice tried to cast a spell, but one of the hobs lunged at her, forcing her to parry and interrupting the spell. The hobs were toying with them now, poking and prodding them with wooden spears and clubs. It was only a matter of time before they would tire enough to drop their guard, Althea realised, and that’s when the hobs would move in to kill. Lady Beatrice was already breathing labouredly behind her.
There was a flash of bright light. The hobs turned away from them in confusion. Their grins shifted to open-mouthed horror as myriad glowing projectiles tore into them like arrows. Many of the hobs screamed. Some fell to their knees while others fell down. Althea seized the opportunity to lunge forward with her mana lance, piercing the belly of one of the vile creatures still standing. She stole a glance in the direction where the projectiles came from and saw Claudius and Cassie. She had never thought she would be happy to see Claudius. Another volley of glowing missiles – this one not as brilliant as the first – burst forth from Cassie’s glyph and struck the remaining hobs.
Cursed Knight Page 30