William could see them now, faint at first, then clearer as the torches multiplied across the eastern horizon. Over one hundred flickering lights weaved and bobbed like fireflies, each marking a creature with hate in its heart.

  One of Veylan’s officers’ voices rang out above the noise. “Archers! Ready!”

  William gripped his sword, feeling the weight of the moment settle like lead in his chest, the blade igniting in golden flame. The air was thick with sweat and fear. He could taste the metallic tang of anticipation.

  The drums grew louder still, answered by shrill cries that rose like laughter carried on the wind.

  Sibrek chuckled. “Here they come, and they look hungry.” He raised his voice. “Let ‘em taste our fury!”

  The first guttural war cries split the night as the horde charged across the plain, their small shapes moving fast over the grass. Spears and shields bristled in response.

  “Archers!” an officer roared. A hundred bowstrings drew tight. “Loose!”

  The air hissed as a storm of arrows streaked into the night. Dozens of goblins fell, impaled mid-run, tumbling and screeching in the grass. The survivors vaulted over their bodies, snarling and waving crude blades, spears, and rusted axes.

  “Hold!” came the next order, the word carried along the line by captains and sergeants. “Hold the line!”

  Then the goblins hit. The impact came with a wet crunch of steel against flesh. Spears drove deep, skewering goblins as the line shuddered but held. Screams tore through the dark as the first wave broke apart like water against stone.

  William’s sword flared with divine flames, lighting the chaos around him in ghostly, golden hues. He swung in wide arcs, each strike cutting through two or three goblins. The air was filled with the stench of burnt blood.

  [XP: +1]

  Beside him, Fredric fought with grim focus, his blade clumsy but determined. He turned to the side to strike a goblin while another goblin lunged at his back. Will’s sword flashed, and the creature split in two before it could touch him.

  “Keep alert!” Will’s voice rose above the clash of steel.

  Fredric nodded, breath coming in ragged bursts, his arms trembling from the close call.

  Sibrek bellowed somewhere down the line, his axe whirling in great sweeping cuts that sent heads flying. Pip darted between soldiers’ legs, daggers slashing as she gutted goblins and vanished before their dying screams. Amra loosed arrow after arrow, each shot unerring, every draw of her bow followed by the twang of death.

  The first rush faltered. Over eighty goblins lay dead before the pikes, the ground slick with blood. But more goblins rushed forward, shrieking, crawling over the bodies of their kin.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Shields! Brace!” a captain yelled.

  The second clash was chaos with another hundred goblins attacking. The formation broke into clusters of desperate fighting. Steel rang against steel, and the air filled with the stink of sweat and fear. Goblins leapt onto soldiers’ backs, biting and clawing. A pikeman fell, his throat torn open. Fredric drove his sword through the creature’s spine before it could lunge at another defender.

  Mages sent random spells into the larger clusters of goblins. A lucky [Frost Breath] spell saw three goblins frozen together. [Fireballs] sent the creatures to the wind as ash.

  William felt a blade glance off his pauldron. He turned, caught the goblin’s wrist, and crushed it under his gauntlet before running the creature through. Its blood sprayed across his armour as it still tried to bite him with its life slipping away.

  The fight dragged on, minute after minute of slaughter and screaming. The goblins fought with madness, heedless of loss, and for every one that fell, two more waited a few hundred metres back.

  Fredric cried out as a goblin’s spear scraped his thigh. William stepped in front of him, slamming his sword through the attacker and kicking it away. “You alright?”

  “I’m fine!” Fredric shouted back through clenched teeth, blood running down his leg.

  William nodded as a [XP: +1] notification faded away. “Good. Stay close.” He looked at the young boy as he prepared to go straight back into the fight. Stay alive, Fred; I still haven’t paid you yet!

  The soldiers’ discipline began to tell. Shields pressed forward, swords stabbed in unison, and the goblin tide wavered.

  “Push!” a sergeant bellowed. “Push them back!”

  The roar of a hundred voices answered him. Spears thrust again, and the remaining goblins broke. Some tried to flee, only to be cut down by archers and slingers as they turned their backs. Others were driven into the pikes and impaled where they stood.

  In under twenty minutes, the first attack was over, but there were still a couple of hundred goblins that hadn’t attacked yet.

  The air hung thick with smoke and the metallic tang of blood. Around twenty soldiers and villagers lay dead or dying, their bodies pulled back by comrades who barely had the strength to stand. The ground was carpeted with goblin corpses, their blood pooling in the dirt.

  “Regroup!” Commander Veylan ordered.

  The King’s army and the survivors moved back into formation, their chests heaving from the fight. All around, soldiers and defenders groaned from their injuries as the priests healed them the best they could. While a few hundred metres away, the remaining goblins just waited.

  ***

  Over an hour passed, and nothing happened. The defenders stood ready, and the goblins stood in silence.

  “What are they waiting for?” Marie leaned on her drawn sword.

  Amra shrugged, Sibrek grunted, and William analysed the situation. All around them, the soldiers were getting anxious; the waiting was almost as bad as the battle itself.

  Why aren’t they attacking or retreating? Will scratched the back of his neck. It makes no sense. Why didn’t the entire force attack us? There weren’t enough goblins to cause mass deaths, but had all four hundred attacked in one wave, more soldiers would’ve died.

  “Prepare to pull back!” Veylan ordered, his voice carrying across the plains. “Send word for the convoy to make a fighting retreat!” He yelled.

  William frowned. That doesn’t make sense. A fighting retreat would lead to heavier losses. Behind him, he could hear horses being harnessed and people beginning to climb back on the wagons.

  On my mark!” the Commander shouted. “Move back five spaces… Now!”

  The entire line of defenders took five steps back and came to a halt. The goblins still did nothing.

  “Prepare for a fighting retreat!” Veylan shouted at the top of his voice.

  With a unified scream, the remaining goblins surged forward, breaking the tense standoff.

  Chapter 051 [Quest Complete: Protect the Convoy of Survivors]