The Goblin Wars Part Two: Death of a King

by Stuart Thaman

  Like a steel tide crashing against an immovable cliff, the orcs slammed into the paladins. Gideon caught a screaming orc soldier squarely in the chest with his throwing axe and nearly rent the creature in two. The garish wound spat life onto Gideon’s hand and made his grip slick with blood. Cursing Vrysinoch for the lack of his sword’s power, he grunted and let the small weapon fall from his grasp.

  A second orc thrust at Gideon with a reckless spear jab he easily parried with his mailed sleeve. The orc, overbalanced and barely competent from the start, stumbled over the butt of his long weapon into Gideon’s rushing fist. A second punch shattered the orc’s ugly face and sent the creature sprawling to the ground. Poorly equipped and undisciplined orcs smashed into the paladin shield wall behind Gideon, but no others attempted to fight him.

  Slowly, Gideon walked over the corpse he had just made and squared off against the monstrously tall warlord. Gurr scraped his feet against his ground and crouched, staring Gideon in the eyes.

  “You die, human,” Gurr growled through sharpened teeth. He swung his gigantic blade lazily above his head and the bloody burlap sack on his belt fluttered in the breeze.

  Gideon nodded and threw his axe as hard as he could. With measured timing, Gurr snatched the twirling axe from the air by the hilt. Never breaking eye contact with the paladin, the massive orc crushed the small weapon to splinters and let the axe’s remains fall through his fingers.

  For the first time in years, Gideon felt a knot of fear tie itself in his chest. He gulped and tried to shake the dizzying feeling of helplessness from his mind. Before he could set his feet and draw his remaining axes, Gurr was upon him. The mighty orc brought his sword down with unexpected speed.

  Caught off guard by the creature’s deft strike, Gideon barely lunged from the blade’s path. He hit the ground in a roll and came up with another axe in his hand, slashing wildly in front of him. Gideon’s sweeping blade hit nothing but air. Frantically, the paladin’s eyes darted around in search of the hulking warrior.

  Behind him, Gideon heard the unmistakable sound of a heavy sword cutting the air. With a grunt of frustration, Gideon dove forward again, but he was too late. Gurr’s huge sword bit into his back directly between his shoulder blades. Luckily, the sword tip clanged against Nevidal’s sheath and prevented the weapon from cleaving his back wide open.

  Gideon lunged forward in pain and landed on his knees. As quickly as his torn back would allow, he pivoted on his heel and prepared to parry. Before he could properly adjust the blade of his axe, Gurr’s sword crashed into the handle and shattered it. With ferocity born of desperation, Gideon leapt over the orc’s sword and grappled the green-skinned foe.

  Surprised by the sudden maneuver, Gurr dropped his sword and wrapped his huge arms around Gideon’s slashed back. Even beneath the paladin, Gurr was far stronger. He grasped his wrists, locked his arms together, and began compressing Gideon’s spine.

  The paladin struggled for breath, but knew he would live. With Nevidal strapped securely to his back, the orc couldn’t break his spine. Still, Gideon knew he could not defeat the warlord. “Help…” he breathlessly called out. Surrounded by the din of chaotic battle and the steady pulsing of the battle hymn, Gideon’s words were lost.

  He tried to push himself to his knees, but the orc had managed to wrap his legs around the paladin’s waist to immobilize him. Gurr smiled calmly into Gideon’s panicked eyes and clamped a meaty hand over the human’s mouth. “You die, wretched scum,” he whispered with a heavy orcish accent.

  Gurr’s hand tasted like dried blood and rotten meat against his mouth. With the skin and muscle of his upper back torn, Gideon couldn’t even lift his neck to gasp at the air. His eyes fluttered shut and he let his mind wander away from his body.

  FROM THE CENTER of the shield wall, Corvus used his divine sight to direct the flow of the battle hymn’s inspiring energy. As the men sang, holy light enveloped them, wrapping them with a protective layer of magic. Whenever an orc managed to get a strike over one of the shields, Corvus was there with a blast of mental energy that sent the creature flying back. Before long, the song of praise drowned out the screams of the orcs entirely.

  An orc launched a clumsy spear over the top of the shield circle, aimed for Corvus head, but Vrysinoch struck it down with a bolt of holy light. The shoddy projectile sizzled in the air and fell at Corvus’ feet with a dull thud. Turning in slow circles behind the line, Corvus’ vision showed him all of the wounds his men had taken. Weaving Vrysinoch’s intricate magic into small bursts of healing, Corvus infused the paladins with regenerative light that stitched their injured flesh together.

  “Help…” a soft voice resonated in Corvus’ mind from the battlefield. He could feel Gideon’s spirit weakening by the second. The once-brilliant orb of light that identified Gideon’s presence to Corvus’ blind eyes had been reduced to a small speck, a hint of its former glory.

  Focusing all of his attention, Corvus drew magical strength from the ring of paladins and channeled it into a single blast of healing. With surgeon-like precision, he pushed the healing energy into Gideon’s soul. Immediately, the strength of the shield wall began to wane.

  An orc swung his double-bladed axe into one of the shields and where magic had once protected, wood splintered and an unfortunate paladin’s arm splintered with it. Still, Corvus directed the magic of the battle hymn into Gideon’s body until he could see the man rise to his feet. Another paladin failed to parry a spiked ball on the end of a chain that wrapped around the side of his mace and connected solidly with his helmet. With his magical vision, Corvus saw the paladin’s skull cave in, but he also felt Gideon’s soul pulse and brim with vitality.

  IN ONE MOTION, Gideon flexed his legs, ripped an arm free from Gurr’s pinning weight, and rose to his knees above the orc warlord. Vrysinoch’s strength imbued him once more. Gideon slammed his mailed fist into the orc’s chin and scrambled to his feet.

  “Pull back!” he screamed at the wavering line of shields. Several orcs pushed through a gap in the wall and began overpowering the smaller humans. Without looking, Gideon knew Gurr was only a few steps behind him.

  Corvus frantically gathered all of the remaining energy and formed it into a solitary ball of holy light. The ascended paladin was out of options. Orcs attacked him at the center of the shield wall and his own magical defenses would not hold forever. Unsure of the results, Corvus severed the connection of his own mind to the gathered sphere of magic in the air and let it violently unravel.

  With a sound like lightning splitting stone, the orb shattered and fell back to the ground, sending a crashing wave of divine power into every living thing it touched. The paladins, immediately emboldened, scrambled back to protect their leader. The orcs fell to the ground in unison, dazed and breathless. Gurr, bellowing at the top of his lungs, found himself chained to the ground by ethereal straps of white magic.

  At once, the paladins left their wounded and fled. Refugees poured from the broken wagons and ruined campsites to run with their fellow humans. Dozens of them fleet of foot enough to keep pace despite their injuries joined the frantic retreat.

  “Thank you,” Gideon commended Corvus as he ran alongside the man and guided his footsteps. “That beast was unlike anything I’ve ever fought.”

  “Your sword,” Corvus panted, struggling to match Gideon’s long stride. “Why did it remain on your back?”

  “Vrysinoch does not protect me any longer,” Gideon said without a trace of doubt or regret. “How did you push the orcs back like that? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Panting and holding onto Gideon’s arm desperately, Corvus could barely keep up. “I do not know,” he muttered between breaths. “And I don’t know how long it will last.”

  SEAMUS SAW THE running paladins and refugees and rushed to wake Asterion. He shook the old man violently by the shoulder. Thankfully, the wizened man was easily roused from his exhausted slumber and slowly made it to his feet.

 
; “Get ready to move!” Gideon shouted as he came into sight of Asterion, Seamus, and the goblins.

  Without hesitation, Asterion dove his mind back into the realm of magic and began weaving together a spell.

  “No!” Corvus yelled. “You’re too weak!”

  Asterion ignored him and continued stitching together the edges of a brilliant white circle that floated just inches from the ground.

  With Gideon’s help, Corvus slid to a stop next to the stooped over man and begged him to stop. “Asterion…” he panted, “you’ll kill yourself. Your body can’t keep using magic!”

  When it became apparent Asterion had no intention of interrupting his spell, Corvus grit his teeth and tried to summon what remained of his energy to aid the old man and keep him from dying of exertion. The clangor of the running refugees and disorganized paladins was too much for Corvus to ignore. His concentration slipped and he was simply too tired to summon his last reserves.

  At once, Corvus felt the magic that bound the orc assault party dissipate as keenly as if it had been a tree branch struck by lightning next to his ear. “They’re coming!” he cried out, clutching his head with dizziness. “The orcs are coming!” Only a moment later, sounds of orc battle cries floated across the small expanse of plain to the huddled mass around Asterion.

  “Whatever you’re doing, you need to hurry up, old man!” Gideon shouted. “There won’t be any of us left to save!” Instinctively, he reached for the hilt of his sword. His fingers brushed against Nevidal’s cold metal. Gideon grimaced.

  “I need a weapon,” he growled at the paladins with his fingers twitching where his axes used to hang.

  “Your sword,” Vorst pointed to the weapon on his back.

  Gideon looked wistfully to the sky. “I… I don’t know what will happen.”

  “Here,” one of the paladins strode next to Gideon and held out his shield. “Take the spear. Pull it out gently so you don’t crack the tip.”

  “Huh,” Gideon removed the orc spear from the man’s shield and tossed it from hand to hand. It was poorly crafted, far too heavy, and sported a slight bend in the shaft near the base. “Thanks, I guess,” he told the man as he turned to place himself between the cowering refugees and the screaming orcs.

  “Through the portal!” Corvus’ voice rose above the sounds of chaos. Gideon turned to see a white disc of blazing light spread flat on the stony ground. It was large enough for one man to pass through at a time.

  “Where’s it go?” Seamus asked with wonder, staring into the brilliant depths. He thought he could make out a face on the other side, beckoning him through, but it turned out to only be his reflection.

  “The star room beneath the Tower of Wings,” Asterion said, wearily taking a step and vanishing into the white disc. His body passed through the portal as easily as if it was water, and then he was gone.

  “Everyone through the portal!” Corvus yelled. He tried to add a subtle magical component to his voice to make the words ring out farther, but even such a small cantrip proved too taxing. Several of the closest refugees approached the portal with apprehension, but when Seamus shoved one in the back and he fell through without so much as a shout of dismay, the rest of the refugees swarmed in.

  “My baby…” one of the women sobbed. She clutched the infant tightly to her chest and refused to jump into the portal.

  The first orcs to reach the group crashed against a disorganized assembly of paladins guarding a nearly indiscernible rise in the land. The dying screams of men and orcs alike joined the confused shouts of the remaining refugees.

  “I’ll take her myself,” Corvus snapped at the woman angrily. Not knowing exactly where she was, Corvus attempted to rip the babe from her arms, but succeeded only in ramming the back of his fist into the mother’s jaw and knocking her backward. With a sound like wind through a bellows, she fell through the portal to safety.

  Seamus shrugged and helped the last group of refugees through the portal before jumping in after them. A thrown orc knife clipped Corvus in the arm and he knew his men would all die if they didn’t get to the portal.

  “Retreat!” he yelled, waving in the direction of the battle sounds. “To safety!”

  Slowly, the paladins formed into a small line and marched in reverse. More than a dozen of the men had fallen atop the rise, but their shields still held firm with magic.

  Gravlox felt the familiar surge of the earth as he rent it up into the sky. The ground enjoyed the release almost as much as the shaman did. When he ran his fingers through the dirt and let his mind drift into the soil, the very bedrock begged for freedom. Rocks flew in every direction as Gravlox lifted a chunk of earth the size of a modest tavern into the air. As though he were gently moving a glass vial on a shelf, Gravlox moved his hand through the air and sent the massive pile of dirt and stone hurtling in front of the paladins. Nearly a score of orcs were crushed beneath it before they could react.

  “Let’s go,” Gravlox said to Vorst with determination. She nodded and the two sprinted toward the portal.

  Taking full advantage of their momentary reprieve, Gideon guided the remaining paladins through the portal. Before he could step through, a hand shot across the shimmering disc and stopped him. “The star room…” Corvus warned him.

  “I know,” Gideon grunted in reply. “Better chances there than here,” he scoffed as he brushed past Corvus’ arm and dropped through the barrier of light.

  Corvus heard the goblins speaking and knew they were about to step through. “You may die,” he said quickly, listening for the sounds of orcs.

  “I know.” Vorst grabbed the blind man’s hand, wrapped her other arm around Gravlox’s waist, and jumped into the portal.

  Seamus, the last to make the journey, tumbled into the star room beneath the Tower of Wings only a heartbeat before an orc spear ripped through the space where he had been standing.

  NEARLY SIXTY HUMANS, groaning and clutching at various wounds, stumbled through the cramped star room beneath the Tower of Wings. The paladins helped the refugees to their feet and escorted them to the lobby of the tower. There was much work to do and the men were eager to begin preparing the defenses of the city.

  “Only those blessed by Vrysinoch may set foot in the star room…” Gideon muttered. He helped Corvus to his feet and sought out the goblin pair. “And yet here I stand.”

  Vorst felt something release from the back of her consciousness. Like a wild horse breaking from a heavy yoke, her mind ran free. Truly free. “Gravlox!” she shouted. “I can’t feel her! She’s gone!” Vorst’s mind ran so quickly she could barely speak. Her words came out as an elated jumble of goblin and human sounds that did little to convey her joy.

  Gravlox glanced up at Vorst once, but soon let his attention drift back to the metal circlet on his head. Something was wrong—terribly wrong. Gravlox knew beyond a doubt crossing through the portal had been a mistake. Angrily, he shouldered past the jumping Vorst and left the room before his mind could be further tainted.

  The shaman slumped against the intricately adorned wall outside the star room and attempted to weave his mind through the magical passageways he had grown accustomed to. He placed his hands against the ground and tried to force his mind into the earth. Only minutes ago, he had spoken to the magical essence of the earth as easily as if it was an only friend. Now, after exiting the star room, Gravlox felt as though chewing a tunnel through bedrock back to Kanebullar Mountain would be easier than conjuring a simple shamanistic spell.

  Gravlox flung the enchanted circlet against the opposite wall in disgust.

  “I’m free!” Vorst shouted once more, bounding from the room with a smile plastered to her face. She tugged at Gravlox’s arm, searching for acknowledgement, but found none.

  “I’m dead, Vorst,” he finally muttered, barely audible. “My mind is dead.” As if to prove his point, Gravlox ran his hands over a flagstone on the ground. Commanding the rock to lift into the air and do his bidding should have been a mini
mally taxing chore. Despite his most powerful mental concentration, Gravlox could not bring the stone to do as much as gently vibrate.

  He got up from the wall and gave the circlet a swift kick for good measure before ascending the staircase at the end of the underground corridor.

  “Don’t you get it?” Vorst begged with tears welling up in her soft eyes. “I’m finally free…” All her life, Lady Scrapple’s presence had been a subtle and persistent itch inside the back of her skull she could never satisfy.

  Vorst couldn’t help but imagine all of the wonderful new possibilities life without the threat of mental occupation would afford her. She could travel near to Kanebullar Mountain, perhaps even sneak inside, without being instantly detected and overpowered. Somehow, stepping into the star room had triggered some kind of Vrysinoch-powered defense that severed magical connections. To Vorst, Gravlox’s sudden loss of ability was practically meaningless.

  “I’m free,” she repeated dozens of times. She could not have asked for a greater gift from the winged god of mankind.

  “Are you alright?” Corvus asked Asterion once he was certain he was in front of the correct man. Asterion’s magical signature within Corvus’ vision was almost opaque. While it retained a particularly large shape Corvus easily recognized, it was eerily dark, unlike the shimmering white it should have been.

  The old priest gave a cough and a meek nod. “How many… did we leave behind?” he asked without opening his weary eyes.

  “We held off the orcs,” Corvus said, but there was no happiness in his voice. “We got the refugees home safely. But there were hardly any left to save…”

  Asterion’s face twisted into a frown that made the wrinkles around his mouth appear far deeper than they were. “Gideon was right… we were too late.”