Goblins on high platforms sent arrows whistling down onto the King’s men. Edmund pointed to them and shouted to Lord Harris, “Get them! Pull them down! Get the archers!”
Lord Harris, waving his sword, charged the nearest scaffold, his company swarming up the timbers as red-feathered arrows pelted their shields and armor.
Two knights fell, one with an arrow in his visor, blood spurting through the eye slit.
More knights stormed in, led by Lord Griffin.
“There!” Edmund pointed to a tunnel across the cavern where heavily armed goblin soldiers raced in. “Stop them! Bottle up that passageway. Don’t let them come in uncontested.”
Lord Griffin scanned the carnage and saw where Edmund meant; goblins gathered at the cavern’s far end, amassing their strength so that they could attack King Lionel’s flank. Hollering and waving his sword, Lord Griffin led his company into the melee.
More knights in tightly packed formations surged into the cavern, attacking goblins wherever they gathered. Soon fighting raged everywhere, the ringing of swords and the clash of shields all but overpowering the screams of pain and battle cries.
The pit dwellers!
Seizing a ladder leaning against the cavern wall, Edmund ran to a pit and called to the startled inhabitants. “Hurry!” He slid the ladder into the darkness.
One by one, haggard men climbed the rungs and stood blinking at the rampant bloodshed around them.
“Grab a sword!” Edmund snatched a scimitar lying next to a dead goblin guard and pushed it into the hands of a bewildered pit dweller. “Grab a sword and fight! Kill something!”
Some immediately grabbed weapons and fell upon the closest goblins with reckless abandon. Some, however, fled to the nearest undefended tunnel, while others simply stood by their pits, sobbing.
Edmund dashed from pit to pit, hastening people up the ladder as the battle throbbed. He gathered weapons from the fallen—scimitars, knives, clubs, anything that could kill—and tossed them to the pit dwellers who gaped at the carnage. He slid the ladder into the hole and called for the pit dwellers to scrabble up.
“Filth?” said familiar a voice.
“Vomit?”
Vomit climbed up the ladder. Behind him, ascending one rung at a time, followed Tiny Turd.
Vomit still looked as old and as tired as before, but Turd was now nearly cadaverous, the bones of his broad frame poking out beneath tight, dirty skin.
Edmund took a step back, unable to even gasp.
“Filth!” Vomit reached the top of the pit. “It is you!”
“V-V-V, Vomit!” Edmund cried. “Turd!”
Turd emerged, hunched over as if carrying an unbearable weight. He glanced around.
Knights had killed hundreds of goblins; as many as three hundred corpses had bloodied the ground, slashed to pieces. Not far away, King Lionel and his men had surrounded an ogre, dancing around it as though playing a game. When the ogre swung its club at one knight, three others would lunge in and attack it from behind, stabbing at its knees. But more goblins were pouring into the cavern from the far end, fresh and unfought.
Turd surveyed the situation with deadened eyes, then glared at Edmund.
“Take a weapon,” Edmund shouted over the clamor. He handed Vomit and Turd scimitars.
Turd’s fingers tightened around the hilt.
“Get everyone you can! The pit dwellers. Get everyone you can, and get them out of here!” Edmund pointed to the passage through which they’d entered. “Take that tunnel and turn left when you can. Left! Then keep going until you’re out!”
“We can’t!” Vomit gestured to his naked body. “Not like this. What are we going to eat?”
“Supplies!” Edmund hollered. “We have—”
Turd leapt forward and thrust the scimitar into Edmund’s chest. The blade snapped against the black chainmail hidden under Edmund’s outer clothes as he fell backward from the force of the blow, crashing to the ground next to the opening of the pit.
Turd lunged for Edmund’s neck, but Vomit got between them.
“Turd! We’re free! Free! We’re finally free! Do you want to die here?”
Turd’s gaze flitted about the cavern. Goblins ran screaming in every direction, some missing limbs, others with deep gashes across their bodies. Knights slaughtered any guards who dared to fight them. Nobody was paying any attention to the pit dwellers.
Retreating a limping step, Turd pointed the broken scimitar at the still-prone Edmund.
“I’ll get you for what you did to me.” He hobbled to nearest tunnel, one foot dragging lifelessly behind him. “I’ll kill you and everybody you love. Magic user or not! I’ll get you!”
He disappeared into a dark passage.
Vomit helped Edmund up.
“He was always a pain in the ass.” Edmund rubbed his chest where Turd had stabbed him. Several rings of the chainmail had been driven into his flesh.
“He’s gotten worse since they recaptured him.”
Knights fell back as more and more goblins gained control of the opposite side of the cavern.
Not far away, King Lionel swung his longsword two-handed. His shield, now bent and useless, lay by the dead ogre. Seventeen of his thirty guards remained standing, many with blood trickling from gashes in their chainmail.
“Get everybody you can,” Edmund told Vomit, “and get out of here. Take that passage, then turn left. Keep going. We have guards at the exit. Make sure they know you aren’t goblins!”
Vomit shook Edmund’s hand. “Thanks for this, Filth. I, I never thought I’d ever—”
“Go!” Edmund pointed to the exit. “Run!”
Nodding his thanks, Vomit gathered as many of the pit dwellers as he could. Some refused; they wanted to fight. Still, many grabbed weapons and followed him out of the cavern.
Edmund ran to King Lionel, who was leaning on his sword, breathing hard.
“We have to get out of here!” he yelled.
“Nonsense!” The King huffed. “Look at this!” He motioned to the carnage. Knights cut goblins down like grain, yet more kept coming. “It’s glorious!”
The King shouldered his sword and started toward the battle again, but Edmund clutched his blood-covered arm.
“Let’s leave! Remember the plan? You’ll still be able to fight them, but you’ll have two hundred other warriors with you! Think of how many you could kill in the ambush!”
Lionel stopped, again surveying the slaughter. Only about forty of the seventy knights still fought. A new group of goblins leapt into the cavern, behind them came archers.
The King nodded a weary head. “Get me that horn.”
Edmund yanked a horn from a fallen knight’s belt and handed it to the King. The King wiped the gore from its mouthpiece, then blew three short blasts.
“To me!” he called. “To me, knights of Eryn Mas! To me!”
Knights and lords fell back.
The King grinned in satisfaction.
“This has been glorious!” He shook Edmund by the shoulder, leaving a bloody handprint. “You have certainly earned your lands.”
“Your gift won’t mean anything if we don’t get out of here,” Edmund replied.
“Not to worry. These wretched animals are no match for me. Look at how many we’ve already slain! There can’t be many more skulking about.”
“Sire,” Edmund said, “there are thousands of—”
A goblin horn blast shook the cavern. Goblins in full platemail appeared from one of the far tunnels.
“Pull back!” the King hollered to his knights. “Orderly now! Lord Henley? Where’s Lord Henley?”
Somebody shouted that Lord Henley was dead.
“Well, then, somebody else take the lead! My men and I will hold the rearguard. Go! Into the tunnel we came from!”
“Take a left!” Edmund yelled after the withdrawing knights and lords. Nearly all of them appeared to be wounded. “Left at th
e intersection!”
The goblins, now filling the entire cavern, pressed in upon the King and his men as they guarded the company’s retreat.
Several goblins leapt forward, but the King quickly cut off their heads.
“Edwin!” he laughed, as blood rained down around him. “Thank you! This is the most fun I have ever had!”
Chapter Thirty-One
“What’s wrong?” Edmund shouted to the wall of men in front of him. They’d been fleeing down the passageway toward the black iron door when suddenly everybody had stopped. “What’s going on?”
Nobody knew.
Edmund pushed through the stalled ranks. Reaching the vanguard of the company, he soon realized what the issue was: the lead knights were fighting goblins, and in the bottleneck confines of the tunnel, a handful of goblins could easily hold back an entire army.
“Kill them!” Edmund yelled. “We have to get out of here!”
“We can’t get past,” a lord hollered back. “We can’t get out this way!”
“We must!”
An arrow whizzed overhead.
A knight stumbled in his weariness. Three goblins sprang upon him.
Edmund rushed forth and, crying out, blocked a blow falling toward the knight’s helmetless head. Driving forward, he threw the goblins aside, then slashed at them with his sword; his black blade cleaved into everything it met—armor, weapons, even the passageway’s stone walls.
Shouting for everybody to follow, Edmund continued hacking like a crazy person, driving goblins back, killing two with slashes through their chests, chainmail and ribs cloven asunder.
“Keep up!” he called over his shoulder.
Goblins threw their shields up to block Edmund’s frantic blows, but when the black blade sliced them in two, they flung them aside and fled shrieking into the darkness.
“Come on!” Edmund yelled to the men. “Carry the wounded! We’ll be safe up ahead!”
Tired and injured, the company staggered after Edmund, torches sputtering and dying.
Edmund stopped. Bodies were strewn about the passage in front of him—lots of bodies. Some were goblins; most were pit dwellers.
“Oh no!”
He found Vomit propped up against the wall, clutching his abdomen. Blood seeped between his fingers.
“Keep going!” Edmund told the knights. “To the exit! Hurry! I’ll stay behind and cover your retreat!”
Knights and lords began to fumble past, tripping in their fatigue.
“Here, let me see your—” Edmund lifted Vomit’s hand. Pink intestines slid out of the gash.
“Filth,” Vomit said weakly. “I killed two. Two!”
Edmund shot a glance at the fleeing knights; none were paying any attention to him.
“Hold on, Vomit.” He put his hand on the wound. “Hold on.”
He cast his healing spell.
The wound started to close.
Vomit smiled, but his eyes weren’t focused.
“Two,” he muttered and then went limp.
The clash of metal and the laughing cries of the King grew louder as Lionel and his rearguard retreated toward Edmund.
Edmund knelt by Vomit’s body. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner. Rest in peace.”
The rearguard came into view.
Several knights waved torches, weapons broken, shields bent and twisted; they fought a running battle with a horde of goblins trying to overtake them. An arrow whizzed overhead and snapped against the tunnel’s rough-hewn walls.
“Watch out for the bodies!” Edmund pulled the dead pit dwellers out of the knights’ way. “On the floor! Watch out!”
“Edwin?” the King called over his shoulder, voice strained yet still jovial. “Is that you? How much farther?”
“A quarter mile,” Edmund guessed. Several knights swore, their sword arms tiring. “Don’t worry, it’s—”
A horn blew behind them. Cries from more goblins reverberated down the passageway.
“Edwin!” Panic now touched the King’s tone. “What is that? Where is that battle in relation to us?”
“It’s coming from the guardroom, sire,” one bodyguard said. “They’ve cut off our retreat!”
“Trapped!” another knight muttered.
“Edwin!” the King yelled.
“I’ll go check it out!”
Edmund ran off into the darkness. The noise of a new battle grew louder as he approached the exit, the ring of steel on steel echoing back to him. Men were screaming. Goblins had retaken the guardroom, blocking any chance of escape.
We’re trapped!
Edmund stopped and considered his options.
Hide in the mines? You can produce enough food now.
The King wouldn’t go for it. He’d rather die fighting.
Forget the King! Save your—!
People jogged toward Edmund from the guardroom. Judging by their voices, they were goblins. Within seconds, they were on him, surprised to find anybody else in the dark passageway.
Edmund swung his short sword, its blade scoring deep into the unseen foe’s flesh. There was screaming. Another sword whistled somewhere to his right. Edmund slashed, then stabbed blindly. His thrust hit someone; there was another cry of pain.
“Edwin?” the King hollered from up the passage.
Edmund slashed again, cutting through what felt like an arm. It fell heavily to the floor, followed by a body. He kept stabbing until its shrieking stopped.
“Edwin!” the King hollered again.
“Here! I just killed a couple of goblins.”
“Good! Kill a couple hundred more!”
Red torchlight appeared from up the passage; the King and his knights now ran in full retreat, goblins on their heels.
“Is the exit held against us?” the King cried, racing toward him.
“I don’t know! There’s battle.”
The foremost knights ran past Edmund, armor wrenched and battered. All of them glistened a bloody red.
Edmund dashed to the King as he and a solitary knight turned and fought to slow the mass of goblin warriors. An arrow skimmed the King’s armor.
“Retreat!” the King bellowed. “Edwin, retreat!”
The King’s accompanying knight fell, a goblin sword piercing his throat.
Edmund leapt forward and swung his black blade.
“Retreat, I said!” the King shouted again.
“No! You can’t hold them off yourself!”
Edmund threw himself at the advancing goblins, cutting through their parrying weapons and into their armor. Blue sparks lit up the shadows. The goblins’ advance wavered in the face of Edmund’s reckless strokes. Edmund swung again and again, sword cleaving through everything it hit. Three, four, five goblins fell before him.
“Good God, man!” the King cried next to him. “My lessons worked! Look at you!”
“Go!” Edmund yelled. “Go now!”
“A king never leaves when there is battle at hand!”
Another arrow flew past Edmund’s head and slammed into a knight’s already dented breastplate with a hollow thud. The knight collapsed.
Goblins in front of Edmund were reassembling; some dived at his feet, trying to trip him, but he kept swinging his sword as fast and as hard as he could.
“They’re coming from behind,” one of the remaining knights shouted. “They’ve taken the guard’s chamber! We’re surrounded!”
“Back to back!” the King ordered. “Stand back to back! Now is the time to give them what for! Die gloriously, men! Die gloriously!”
Shouts from the exit grew louder, then, among them, Edmund heard a new sound—the snarling of a very angry dog.
“Becky!” He stabbed a goblin squarely in the forehead; its skull split open, revealing white brains. “Friends are behind us, Your Majesty! Friends!”
“Ed!” called a female voice up the passageway.
“Abby! Secure th
e exit! Retreat! Retreat!”
A goblin swung a two-handed mace and connected with the side of the King’s helmet with a loud crack. Lionel crumbled to one knee. At once, three goblins were upon him, stabbing their scimitars through the metal mesh between his breastplate and gardbrace.
Edmund and the remaining knights leapt to his defense.
Knights slew the attacking goblins, but the King was grievously hurt; blood spurted from his armpit.
Becky charged, torchlight glinting in her red eyes. Vaulting over the dead bodies, she slammed into the wall of goblins.
Panic renewed Edmund’s strength; he, too, charged forward, stabbing and swinging as he went.
For a moment, the goblins gave ground.
“Back, Becky, back! Stay back!” Edmund shouted.
Other voices yelled from down the passageway—human voices.
“Ed!”
“Here! I’m here!”
Pond, Hendrick, and Hendrick’s men-at-arms rushed forth, rested and well-armed with black-bladed swords. Shields raised, they drove into the goblins, expertly delivering blows for maximum effect. The goblins gave even more ground, giving Edmund some breathing room.
The King’s five remaining guards lifted Lionel. Lionel tried to wave them away but ended up dropping his sword.
“Get him to the guardroom!” Edmund leaned against the tunnel wall, catching his breath. “Outside! Get him outside the door! We’ll hold them off! Go! Get him outside!”
Becky ripped into a fallen goblin who tried in vain to fight her off.
“Becky,” Edmund said, “come back!”
Becky bounded to Edmund, a still-twitching goblin arm in her jaws.
“You okay?” Pond asked, but Edmund turned to Hendrick, panting.
“What’s the situation at the guard’s chamber? Can we get out?”
“Now we can,” Hendrick replied.
“Those stupid lords wouldn’t send you reinforcements.” Abby threw her arms around Edmund, heedless of the blood. “We saw a bunch of goblins go in through the black door, but the lords in the forest still wouldn’t send help! Even after the knights holding the door against them started to fall!” She looked at him tenderly. “Are you okay?”
Blood in Snow: (The Riddle in Stone Series - Book Three) Page 20
