by A. C. Cobble
“Girl,” claimed Frand, “if you get surrounded by a pack of goblins, you’re gonna wish you had a steel shirt too. Those little darts and arrows they shoot don’t seem like much til one of ‘em catches you in the eye or a dozen of the damn things get stuck in your back. Nasty way to go, that, stabbed to death by a buncha little pricks no bigger than your finger.”
“Buncha little pricks,” replied Prem, fighting to hide a smile. “That’s what Tabby said about you two. It did sound horrible.”
Frand rolled his eyes.
“If Tabby wasn’t happy with what she was gettin’,” claimed Ingice, “she wouldn’ta followed us here, would she? She’d be sittin’ back at the village with you, weaving baskets or whatever it is you do to bide your time.”
Prem slipped her knives out of the sheath and spun them slowly, one in each hand. She looked meaningfully below the brother’s belts and then made a quick slash with each blade before sliding them back out of sight. Now, it was the brothers who hid smiles.
Ben took the chance to ask a question that had been bugging him since they’d first understood what they faced. “Wyverns and goblins, I’ve heard about them in stories, but everywhere I’ve been, people think they’re just that, stories. Are there really wyverns and goblins that come out of that cave?”
Frand rubbed his beard. “Naw, goblins and wyverns are real as anything else I’ve ever seen. Keep watchin’, and you’ll see some of ‘em soon enough.”
The man pointed to the sun, which was just beginning to touch the ridge to the west.
“Once it’s full dark, they’ll come across. Been coming harder and faster since that rift was destroyed up north. Every night for, what, Ignice, two or three months now?”
Ignice shrugged, his chainmail rattling with the motion, “Four, I think. Hard to remember. The days are blurring together now. I can’t remember the last time we had a night off.”
“What are they like?” wondered Ben.
“I don’t know the stories you’ve been told,” answered Frand, “but goblins are probably just like you’d expect ‘em to be. Little short things, maybe halfway up your chest. Thin, like the scrawniest demons, but they don’t have any of the strength and little of the quickness. They’re smarter, I guess. They don’t have the same animal brain demons do. Don’t have a human one either, though. They can fashion simple clothing and weapons, but the quality is poor as shit. No talent for harnessing their will, fortunately.”
“They’re blue, and in our atmosphere, they glow,” added Ignice.
“Really?” asked Amelie.
The warrior nodded. “Some of our mages have explained why, but I wasn’t listening. Goblins are weak, and at night they can’t sneak up on you, so as long as you know what you’re doing with that rapier, a single one shouldn’t give you much trouble. The problem is, you ain’t ever gonna see just one of ‘em. They travel in packs. Could be a score come through that rift. Could be a hundred. In the last few months, it’s been more than that. We’ve seen, what, maybe five hundred of them at once?”
Ben’s eyes bulged. No matter how weak the things were, five hundred enemies was something to worry about.
“They’re not what you really gotta worry about, though,” advised Frand.
Ben fought a groan.
“Wyverns, now,” continued Frand, “those are bad business.”
Ignice nodded. “They’re small when they come through the rift here, not like the ones they had to deal with in old times, but a small wyvern isn’t exactly small, you know? Thirty, forty paces long. Sharp teeth, big claws, that kind of thing. Stronger than an arch-demon and smarter too. Smarter than even the goblins, though, they don’t have hands to create any tools. Just brutal strength and cunning.”
“Do they…” Ben swallowed. “Do they breathe fire?”
Frand snorted. “Nah, not that I ever seen.” He paused. “Damn, man, that’d be scary as hell. You think I’d be standing here if there was some forty-pace long lizard that was gonna come out that rift and shoot fire at me?”
Ignice banged on his shield and then his helmet. “This stuff is steel, man. You know what happens when steel gets hot?”
“Just relating what I heard in the stories,” muttered Ben. He was torn between being glad he wasn’t going to have to face some fire-breathing creature of myth, and being disappointed that part of the stories wasn’t true.
“So, what happens when darkness falls?” asked Amelie.
“Depends on the night,” answered Frand. “Usually, within a bell or two, we’ll see something poking out of the cave. Probably a few goblins but occasionally the demons get over-eager and come right at us. The goblins aren’t quite so… enthusiastic, I would say. They gather their numbers before they’ll charge at us. It’s best to hold the wall and let ‘em come where the artillery can pick ‘em off, but sometimes, they get clever, and we have to sally out and bust up whatever formation they’re in.”
“That’s strange they adjust their tactics,” said Ben.
“Not by much,” clarified Frand. “Just like there are arch-demons, there are leaders amongst the goblins. Whichever one is biggest and meanest, I suppose. Like human commanders, some are better than others. Sometimes, something seems to be controlling the demons, but other times they act like any swarm you’d see. They’re hungry and they come straight at you.”
“When the horn blows,” added Ignice, “it’s beginning.”
Ben stood, staring out at the battle-torn canyon below the watchtower.
“Before then,” remarked Prem, “we should get some sleep. The watchers here have shifts, but we’ve been up all day. Come true night, we need to be ready.”
Ben and Amelie thanked the warriors for their time and shimmied down the ladder, following Prem back to the encampment. They filled in Rhys and Towaal on what they’d learned, including about the wyverns, which caused a great deal of grumbling from Rhys. Then, they laid down to rest.
A sonorous boom snapped Ben out of his slumber. In the dim light of the tent they’d commandeered, he saw Amelie’s eyes shining back at him.
“Survive tonight. Help get the elders into that cave tomorrow. Then, we’re off to the City.”
“Yeah,” mumbled Ben, rubbing his eyes, trying to squish the sleep out of them. “No problem.”
“Come with me,” called Prem from the flap of the tent.
Ben’s friends gathered the little gear they’d brought with them and followed the girl into the early night. Along the wall, braziers blazed with magical fire. It pulsed an angry red, but Ben was assured when Rhys commented, “Smart. The red light will spare some of your night vision. You should be able to see what is happening in the field, and then still see them when they get close.”
The towers on top of the walls remained dark. In the red glow from below, Ben could see silhouettes moving atop them, but he guessed they didn’t want to completely expose archers or any mages who could be up high. Some of the demons would be able to fly, and he certainly wouldn’t want to be sitting in a tower as a target for a wyvern.
Prem took them down the wall, weaving between men and women who strapped on gear and made their last preparations before battle. Finally, they found themselves at the base of the watchtower Ben and Amelie had climbed earlier in the day.
“I hope this is okay,” said Prem.
Ben shrugged. “One spot is as good as any.”
“What do you see?” Prem called up to the watchtower.
“Goblins,” said a voice from above. Ben thought it was the warrior Frand. “A dozen or so poked their heads out and then vanished back inside.”
“Just a dozen,” said Ben, a grin splitting his face. They had a small army lining the walls, a contingent of mages, and siege equipment above. A dozen goblins would be nothing. He started to think this might be fun.
“Yeah, a bad sign,” continued the voice. “That’s a lotta scouts. They went back inside to muster their forces. My guess, at least two hundred of the baddies. We’ll do
what we can with the arrows but looks like we’re going to have to get our swords bloody tonight, boys and girls.”
“Huzzzah!” called a man from the other side of the tower.
Ben’s grin slipped off his face.
Nervous moments passed as they stared out over the darkened field. At night, they couldn’t see much of the debris from previous battles, but the red flames of the braziers along the wall lent what they could see an evil aspect. Broken hafts of polearms, shattered helmets, and lumps which Ben was certain were corpses. Goblin, demon, or human, it was still awful to see them fallen.
Slowly, Ben noticed a pale blue glow began to suffuse the mouth of the cave. It was a quarter league away, and down on the wall, Ben couldn’t see details, but he didn’t need to. A mass of shapes, moving restlessly, began to march out onto the field of battle.
“Bunched up like that,” murmured Rhys, “they’ll get hammered by the artillery.”
“They’re smarter than demons but not by much,” stated Prem. “The archers will wreak havoc on them before they get to us. Most nights I’ve been out here, we just watch while they get torn up by the ranged weapons. You’ve always got to be ready, though, because if they get up here and slip by, it’s an unbelievable pain to track them down in the woods. A few times, they’ve made it to the node gate and gotten through. Fortunately not in numbers, but let me tell you, waking up in the morning to a goblin smashing through your door is no fun.”
“Were people hurt?” asked Ben.
“Not that time,” responded Prem. “Everyone in the village is an expert in their craft. I told you I’m the youngest. You don’t make your first century in the forest without learning how to fight one way or the other. People die on the walls, though. Five hundred goblins, a wyvern, there’s no easy way to stop that kind of force. If a pack of them were to get through a gate to somewhere else, well, most people aren’t prepared for that kind of thing.”
The blue glow crept closer and a quarter bell passed before Ben could make out individual shapes within the mass. A hundred, at least, with more strung out in a loose line leading all the way back to the cave. Ben clenched his fist around the hilt of his longsword.
“Mind the sides of the canyon,” shouted a voice from a watchtower down the wall. “I’ve got movement.”
“Demons,” hissed Prem. “That many goblins and demons as well. It’s going to be a rough one tonight.”
At the other end of the wall, another shout went up. “Got ‘em on the north side. Demons. Dozens at least.”
A thump sounded behind them, and an object whistled overhead. It flew out into the darkness and crashed down in the center of the goblin horde, sending them flying like jacks.
“One advantage of holding the same wall night after night,” said Ignice from above. “Artillery men know exactly when to shoot.”
“Why don’t the goblins know to spread out?” wondered Amelie.
“Not many of ‘em make it back alive,” responded the warrior. “They’re pretty relentless when they attack. There’s a hatred inside of them, and they’ll sacrifice themselves to take one of us. I’ve seen ‘em flee, though, when it’s just one or two. I wonder if their leaders back on the other side give ‘em time to explain themselves.”
“Explain themselves?” wondered Ben. “They speak?”
“Not that you can understand,” answered Ignice, “but they communicate with each other.”
“It’s a ploy,” declared Rhys. “They’re drawing the fire of the heavy weapons while the demons move up the sides in darkness.”
“It’s not our first time facing these things,” reminded Frand dryly.
Just then, another thump. This time, a burning bale lofted above them, soaring toward the south side of the box canyon.
“Nice,” admitted Rhys. “Let the demons draw close. Then, prick them with the archers.”
“Keep watching, old man,” called Frand. “We’ll teach you a thing or two.”
The thumps of the catapults and the twang of the ballistae sounded over and over. In the black field in front of them, angry howls, cries of pain, and a steady, rhythmic thumping drifted back as the goblins marched closer. From the watchtower, a bow string snapped, and the archers joined the fight.
Ben glanced at his companions and saw Amelie’s tight look. Despite the damage the artillery was causing and what the archers would do, it was becoming obvious that some of the goblin horde would make it to the wall. In the field, there had to be three hundred of them.
“The cave,” shouted someone from the darkness.
Ben’s heart sank. The mouth of the cave was glowing blue again. Another wave of goblins was amassing.
“Don’t worry,” called Frand. He grunted, and his bow string snapped. “We’ve got plenty of ammunition. The plan is to use it all tonight and then finish this come dawn.”
The sound of close combat sprung up from the south end of the wall. Some of the demons had made it through the arrows. Snarls, shouts, and pained shrieks. It was nerve-wracking listening to the fight in the dark when he couldn’t see it, but Ben judged the guardians were competently handling the creatures that climbed up the wall. He didn’t hear any cries that sounded like a dying man.
“Center of the field,” screamed a man from a watchtower. “Center of the field, hit it with everything you’ve got!”
Behind them on the artillery platform, someone else shouted, straining to be heard over the growing sounds of battle. “What are you talking about?”
“Center of the field! Wyvern. There’s a bloody wyvern coming behind those goblins.”
“Just drawing the fire,” groaned Rhys. “They’ve planned this.”
The rogue drew his blade, and Ben slid his out as well.
A pale blue glow sprang into light by his side, and Ben jumped, thinking a goblin had somehow snuck up on him, but the light showed the muscled physique of Adrick Morgan.
Lit bales of flame flashed overhead, falling behind the goblins now as the artillery men scrambled to adjust their range and find where the wyvern was passing. The flames flickered two hundred paces away, and Ben couldn’t see a damn thing.
He glanced at Amelie and hissed, “What are we looking at? All I see is the glow from those goblins.”
“The mages are enhancing the sight of the warriors,” replied Amelie, peering hard into the darkness. “Though, with half of these people, I can’t tell if they’re a mage or a soldier. Some of them may be enhancing their own sight.”
Ben grunted.
“I, ah, I think we have a problem,” called Frand. “There’s… well, there’s more than one of them.”
“Damnit. There’s more than one of them!” yelled Ignice, screaming back toward the artillery platform.
“There’s never been more than one wyvern to cross at a time!” exclaimed Prem. “You must be seeing something else. More demons maybe?”
“I don’t know,” said Frand. “It looked big.”
Shouts of alarm were going up around the other towers.
“You sure this was worth it?” whispered Rhys in Ben’s ear.
Ben tried to ignore the man and the sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.
“They can sense magic,” said Adrick calmly, raising his voice to be heard in the tower and down the wall. “The wyverns will come for the elders and the spell they’re fashioning. Like demons feed on lifeblood, wyverns feed on magic. The preparation the elders are doing is like a feast laid out for them. They’ve probably never sensed anything like it.”
“Where are the elders?” asked Ben. “Is someone protecting them?”
“They’re right behind us on the ridge.”
“Oh,” responded Ben. “Damn.”
The archers above them on the watchtower started furiously firing arrows at the approaching horde of goblins. A hundred and fifty paces out, the creatures scattered, evidently realizing the people on the wall had seen the wyverns coming behind them. Ben’s stomach churned with the realization that
they had only been in formation as a ruse.
The artillery thumped from the platform on the ridge, but the engineers were aiming wildly into the darkness. The wyverns gave away no glow like the goblins, and even with enhanced magical sight, it was clear the defenders were having difficulty spotting them.
A clawed hand slammed down on the stone battlement in front of Ben. Without thinking, he twirled his longsword and slashed down with the blade, severing the hand and causing a horrific howl as its owner lost its grip and went plummeting off the wall.
“Demons in the center. Look alive,” shouted Frand from the watchtower.
“Thanks,” muttered Amelie, taking Ben’s side. She held her rapier ready, but he knew that’s not how she intended to enter the fight. Amelie and the other mages would now be focused on the wyverns, directing everything they could at the big beasts. Towaal took Ben’s other side and raised her hands, static beginning to form between her fingers.
“Leave the wyverns to us,” instructed Towaal.
“Wyverns consume magic!” shouted Adrick. “Whatever you do, do not direct a single thread of energy at one of those. You’ll only make it stronger! Haven’t you faced these things before?”
Towaal blinked at him, her face a mask of confusion in the crimson light from the braziers.
Rhys, his sword glowing silver, asked the obvious, “So, how do we fight them?”
“Steel and guts,” barked Adrick. He turned, and his sword flicked out over the battlement, taking another demon in the neck and severing its head. The blue glow of his blade illuminated a surprised look on the demon’s face.
“They’re getting sneaky,” he muttered. To Rhys, he instructed, “You can use that weapon on a wyvern. Their hides are as stiff as chainmail, so the mage-wrought blade helps. Just don’t release the sword’s power. You’ll be feeding the damn things we’re supposed to be fighting.”
Rhys nodded tersely. The time for discussion was coming to an end. All along the wall, demons were trying to sneak over the battlements. Having the creatures behind them when the goblins attempted to scale the structure would be a deadly combination, not to mention whatever it was the wyverns were planning to do.
