“Alfred, what is amiss here? Why are you questioning what it means to be king?” Abedeyan said with restraint.
“Silence, Abe! I can do that too, right? As the king, I can silence you! I guess it means power,” Alfred said coldly.
“Buh...” Abedeyan was stunned, if not hurt.
Alfred raised his hand in a kingly manner, giving the humble Castle Steward an awful egotistical glare.
Abedeyan looked down, sighing, as if decades of servitude had returned.
Alfred shrugged with an upturned look. “Abe, we have to try. We need more food. The forest is the best place for us to find it, so that’s where we are going. We’ve trained enough. Going out like this is important, dangerous or not. I don't know what it means to be king, and I don't care anymore. All I know is what we need. And what we need is more food. And if I can get it, I have to try. We are going.”
They once again entered Danken Fuhrs. The children crept along in the dark misty woods, quietly looking for anything to hunt. They heard a few scattered noises, rustlings fairly close and howls in the distance. Alfred hoped for another of those bikehnbahrs.
As they walked, the children were able to stay quiet for the most part. The few times someone began to speak, Alfred stopped and glared at them. He was very serious now and did not want any frolicking from the kids. He wanted true huntsmen, with stealth, discipline and focus. This was difficult for the younger children, but the elder ones kept the younger ones in line.
The shadowy forest had difficult terrain. Many gnarled roots stuck out from the damp earth. The children could easily get their feet stuck. Some did on several occasions whispering loudly for help. Others hastily pulled at the roots. It seemed as if the roots tightened around their feet as the others struggled to free them.
Cory resorted to beating the root, which seemed to make the trees groan. Loranna lit a torch and waved it nearby. That worked best at releasing shackled feet, but it caused odd creaks and moans to echo from the trees.
Alfred began to fear this forest. There was an unease rising amongst the children. Last time they were lucky, as they came upon the bikehnbahr on the outskirts of the forest. Now they were deep within.
“I think we should go back,” Cory whispered.
Alfred nodded with a quiver. “Yeah, we’ll try along the edge, not so deep in like this.”
There were many sighs of relief. Suddenly Alfred’s shield jerked and hit him in the head. He fell down and shook his head. A small black greasy arrow had lodged in his shield.
“Perimeter!” Alfred cried, hurriedly getting up, shield raised.
Everyone knew what to do, but in the gnarled roots and uneven earth it was a scramble. The boys with spears and bucklers crouched low. Everyone peered into the mist.
“Loranna, your torch!”
Loranna quickly thrust the torch into mud, it hissed out. The darkness that surrounded them veiled the forest and anything that crept.
Alfred looked at the black arrow again. It was nothing other than a goblin’s arrow. It was black, not from paint but from filth and dirt, oil and grease. The feathers used, from a brownish gray bird, were matted and oily, as if rotting and leaving a residue of black ick.
Movement could be heard. It reverberated across the leaf canopy and resounded off the many thick squat trees. They could hear many footsteps and grunts, the scrapes of metal and swishes of leather. Then shadows appeared before them. An arrow twanged and hit Cory in the shoulder. He yelped and fell. Alfred bent down to help him, but Cory waved him off.
They were alone in this dark forest, cut off from Tirnalth their wizard, from Verboden their cleric, from anyone anywhere. Alfred felt paralyzed with fear.
“Alfred, fire back!” Cory grimaced.
More arrows zipped by, hitting wood and shield. The children cowered for cover amongst the roots. Hissing growls echoed from distant shadows. Alfred was in a hot sweat, momentarily paralyzed. The girls cried and held each other. The boys trembled with their spears. He could see shadows of goblins flanking them on either side.
“Fire!” Alfred yelled, or tried to. Hoarse with a gut-wrenching terror, he barely had a voice.
“One ready!” cried Loranna, aiming her bow. Girls scattered about raised their bows in her direction. Alfred looked back at her in fear. She showed none. Cory pulled him down. “Fire!” Arrows flew over them into the mist.
“Two ready!” Loranna pointed to the shadows. A new set of girls knowing their number rose. Their bows creaked. Their strings tensed. “Fire!” Howling anguish from the goblins in the dark pierced the air.
Cory lifted himself up. Alfred saw the arrow and blood streaming from Cory's shoulder. He had never seen anything so horrid. Now he was even more terrified.
“Pull it out!” Cory begged.
Realizing what he had to do, Alfred snapped the weak goblin arrow and pulled it out from each side. Cory screamed, and his face grew pale as if he was going to faint. As sweat, dirt and blood dripped from the wound, he gritted his teeth. Alfred and several boys held him up.
He was as pale as a ghost. “Much beddah...”
“Three ready!” Loranna looked frantically for the grotesque shadows scurrying beyond the forest mist. Foolishly, several came too close.
“Fire!” Loranna pointed, and the girls cut loose their arrows. They were definitely hitting goblins as many yelps could be heard in the shadows and tangles of tree limbs.
“We have to leave. Now!” Loranna pulled Alfred up. The boys held their shields up as a few arrows came in from the distant goblins. As they began to retreat, Alfred in his feverish state could see the shadowy figures of goblins rushing alongside them, ready to pounce.
Alfred pointed with a trembling finger at the passing shapes.
Loranna glanced at Alfred then leapt around with arms raised. “Two! Look to our left! Three! Look to our right!” The archers immediately split up, crawled over the roots and aimed their bows to either side. There was a sudden stillness and no sound. The young children had their bows notched. The children were starting to tire from the adrenaline caused by fear. They were barely able to hold up their weapons. Their hearts beat furiously. Fear clawed at their spirits.
“Vigilance, everyone!” Loranna said. The steadiness of her voice calmed them to focus on the here and now, not the evil spirits of cowardice and panic.
One young girl accidentally shot an arrow blindly into the mist. It hit something, as there was an unexpected guttural moan. A large goblin, as big as a burly man, suddenly fell through the sheet of mist toward them. It carried a fearsome scimitar and wore scaly hide armour. Even so, it had an arrow in its neck. It was more hideous and ferocious looking than Alfred imagined. His heart sank.
Growls erupted from all sides as goblins angrily and nimbly leapt along the roots, coming toward them.
“Fire at will!” Loranna yelled. Alfred looked up at her in awe. She had such passion and bravery. He gulped. Then he felt a surge of energy and stood up next to her with his spear and shield. Looking to one side, he saw several large goblins swinging axes and crude blades, leaping in fast.
“Spears on me!” Alfred yelled, and the boys did as best they could to point all spears toward the leaping goblins. One leapt into the sudden raising of spears and was skewered, knocking back several of the boys. Alfred and the rest closed ranks.
The goblins paused at the demise of their lead. That was opportunity enough.
“One! Fire!” Loranna pointed her arm straight at the goblins.
All bows turned toward the attackers. They yelped and tried to retreat but were shot down. With many arrows piercing them, they fell like rag dolls between the thick roots and muddy earth.
This gave the children repose, a moment, a breath, as more goblins halted in the shadows. They were not so keen to charge in after seeing their brethren pin-cushioned with arrows.
“Quickly, we have to leave this place!” Alfred ordered. They began to back up. Several helped Cory. He grimaced in painful anguish with each move. They
moved out as best they could. The younger ones were getting the hang of traversing the roots as the goblins did, lightly stepping on them. A few were quite good and kept arrows notched.
“Number One, hold your fire and be ready,” said Loranna. “Two and Three, fire at will, even if you don’t have a target, it will slow them down.”
The archers nodded agreement and fired their arrows at anything that moved. This worked to slow the goblins’ attempt to regroup and make chase, at least for a while.
This went on for some time. The traversing of Danken Fuhr was difficult at best. There were many strained ankles from the roots. There were many cuts and bruises from the gnarly branches. Alfred wished he had listened to Abedeyan. The fighting, only lasting a few minutes, seemed to take years off his life. His heart was beating so fast, his breathing could barely keep up. He felt on the verge of hyperventilating. Panic was on the verge of over taking him. He felt as if he was struggling to keep above water. He was shaking all over, as were the others.
Finally a beam of light broke through the distant wall of trees. He felt a sudden calming of his spirit. He could catch up on his breathing. They reached the open pasture where Alfred had hoped to make a hasty getaway, but everyone was exhausted. Try as he wished, since his legs felt like rubber, he could barely move. Everyone was breathing hard and limping. Many dropped and had to be helped up quickly.
A few of the younger ones held their own well and kept a rear guard, shooting arrows back into the forest. Some had to borrow arrows from others. The larger girls had carried extra, so at the moment there were still plenty of arrows.
They reached a small hill when the goblins poured out of the forest. There was a large group of them, maybe thirty or forty. Alfred gasped when he saw how many. They appeared faster and more vicious, now that they were in the open and could easily see their prey.
The thick mist that emanated from Danken Fuhr created a cloud over the land even in daylight, allowing these sinister creatures of dark to rush out on the unsuspecting.
The goblins were not much taller than the children, but they had the gait of large strong monkeys. Alfred recalled from his biology class that monkeys could be twice as strong as men, if not stronger. The goblins had large black frog-like eyes and long black stringy hair, greasy and matted to their green lumpy skin or tied back in coarse lumpy ponytails. They wore various tied and sewn together animal skins, all layered, grimy, hard and worn. Their weapons were crude leather-bound axes and hammers or cut iron blades. Many had significant apparel and weaponry scavenged from fallen men, perhaps even knights.
Alfred wanted to run or give up. He wanted this to end. He was tired and looked to see if they could hide. But there was no place to go. He was shaking all over from the strain of such intensity, of fighting and surviving. He didn’t like this. It wasn’t like a computer game or story. This was real, and there was no break, pause button, or time out. There was no rest.
“Archers, hold your fire and be ready!” yelled Loranna.
Cory pushed Alfred with a grimace and pleaded, “Get the spears ready.”
Alfred shook himself awake but was trembling tremendously. He and the other boys formed a line in front as the girls grouped into three rows of archers. Cory angled a spear as best he could while in such pain. His wound was ghastly. He was pale. Alfred could see the pain and strain in his face, realizing again that this was no game.
The goblins fanned out, advancing up the slope.
“One fire!” Loranna yelled. The arrows went wild in all directions, trying to hit different targets.
Feeling a surge of anger at the goblins, Alfred rushed to the front. “Wait!” he shouted. “Whichever goblin I point at, you fire there!” Crouching low, he pointed at one goblin whose dark furrowed brow suddenly widened. “Two fire!” A volley of eleven arrows showered him. He fell like a pin cushion. The other goblins screamed in anger and charged more furiously.
Alfred pointed at the nearest big brute who hid behind a shield. “Three! At his bare feet, fire!”
The large goblin fell and rolled down, arrows puncturing its feet. It yelped with each roll as the arrows broke off.
Alfred pointed again. A fast goblin was almost upon them. “Fire!”
A volley pierced the goblin. He stood for a moment with nine arrows in him, slashing at the air, then fell dead.
Alfred pointed again. “Fire!” Another goblin fell. “Fire!” Another slumped to the ground. But there were still more, and they were frothing with anger. They were now upon the small group of children. The boys jabbed out their spears to repulse the goblins, as the creatures swung fiercely with their weapons. One caught the jagged end of a boy's spear and yanked it down. The boy fell forward hitting the ground hard. The large growling goblin lifted his crude blade to swing down at the boy. In the nick of time, he was brought down by many arrows.
Another leapt in, swinging his heavily armoured limbs, pushing aside the boys' spears, throwing many off their feet. He swung down at a girl who tried to notch another arrow. The blade cracked through bow and cut across her forehead. She fell.
“No!” Loranna cried and fired an arrow point blank. It did not penetrate deep enough, and the goblin pulled it out. He let loose a hot steamy spittle-filled roar and raised his blade to strike. But just then he arched in sudden paralysis.
Alfred yanked him down with his spear from behind. “Form up! Quickly!”
They lined up as they saw a few straggling goblins retreat to the forest edge to regroup. The boys would have cheered if not for the sheer exhaustion and fear. Several lay on the ground crying with bad cuts or battered limbs.
Alfred looked to see Loranna cradling the youngest girl, Setheyna, the one with the horrible cut on her forehead. She looked alive but in shock.
“No!” Alfred shuddered and fell to his knees. Loranna cried out.
“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Loranna!” Alfred cried.
In a desperate attempt to keep from hyper-ventilating, Loranna gasped air. Tears flowed but she did not sob. She finally began to exhale and calmed.
“Alfred? King Alfred?” Cory mumbled as he prodded Alfred.
Alfred stood, peering along the edge of the Dark Forest. Out swarmed fifty or sixty goblins with three huge ones holding large wooden bramble as makeshift shields. They were forming up to charge. Alfred looked at the boys and girls. None stood straight. All bent or kneeled or huddled in pain or exhaustion. None could flee. Even at full strength the kids could not outrun a goblin.
“I know what it is to be a king. I understand now.” Alfred wiped away the mud and tears.
Loranna looked up at Alfred. He looked down at her. She stood up next to him.
“I'm sorry, Loranna. I didn't understand before. But I know what it is to be a king, to make mistakes like this and cost the lives of those around me. I'm sorry. I wish I would have known before. I wished I would have known what it meant to be king. But now I do, and I guess it's too late. I'm sorry I made such a mistake.”
“No Alfred, this is not a mistake. I'd rather die here, fighting than hiding away to die in fear, as many of our friends and family have before us. Each harvest we hid in fear, hoping goblins wouldn't find our home. Each year they took a family or two, and we hoped some harvest would be left. We lived like slaves to fear. And we were going to die as slaves. But not now, King Alfred, you've taught us to be free of fear, to fight. We've never had a king before. We were all born after the kingdom fell, when there was no king, just tales. None of our families would fight. We didn't know how. I know what a king does. He leads his people, to protect them and to give them hope and freedom. A good king does that. And Alfred, you are a great king! You are my king!”
Alfred faltered. Loranna held him up. “I am proud of you, King Alfred, my king! I'm proud that I will go down killing goblins, fighting this evil!”
“I'm proud too, King Alfred,” said Cory, managing to stand, trying to keep upright and hold his spear.
“They're coming!” a boy cr
ied out.
The goblins traversed up the hill, lining up behind the bramble shields.
Loranna stood tall, “Archers up!”
What girls could, stood and tried with what strength they had to ready their bows. All were exhausted and quivering from the shock of battle and the sight of horrible evil creatures about to brutally end their lives.
“One fire!”
A weak volley of arrows flew into the goblins. Only one dropped as the attackers hid behind the bramble shields, howling like crazed monkeys, speeding up their advance.
“Two fire!”
Another spattering of arrows sunk into the goblins with little affect.
“Three... fire.”
Again, one dropped, merely holding his legs as a good fifty neared the small group of trembling kids.
“For King Alfred!” bellowed Cory, raising his spear. The boys felt a surge of strength and lined up with just a few dozen. They were smaller and weaker than the goblin force.
“King Alfred!”
“I know what it is to be king,” Alfred said to himself. He raised his spear, ready for the end. “I know what it is to be king!”
“One fire!”
The volley seemed more potent. Goblins dropped.
“Two fire!”
More fell. The goblins began tightening up behind the three leaders. A few tried to rush headlong but met their end with arrows.
“Aim for their feet!” King Alfred shouted.
“Three fire!”
Two of the large goblins dropped their shields as arrows pierced their feet and calves. They barked furious pain.
“One fire!”
Arrows easily shot into the masses, taking out a few more goblins. The steady advance turned into a frantic mess as the goblins knew they were close. They suddenly charged with a howl, only a dozen paces away.
“Hold your spears up, boys!”
“For King Alfred!”
“Two fire!”
The archers were renewed, but was it too late? The goblins were upon them. Some fell, but many reached the spears and leapt right at them. Several fell right there but opened the way as goblins leapt in and swung furiously, tossing spears aside and smashing shields. Boys whimpered as they retreated and rolled away in pain and exhaustion, fearing that a goblin scimitar would suddenly swing down upon them.
Alfred: The Boy Who Would Be King (Alfred the Boy King Book 1) Page 14
