Flare and the other guardians had their hands full keeping the inexperienced soldiers in line. The soldiers were beginning to lose control, because of the fear of the coming battle, and the immediate problem of being cooped up in the fort. The soldiers took out their frustration on each other, with minor fights and squabbles breaking out. In defense of the soldiers, the fights were minor, with no weapons being drawn.
Flare and Murleen, having spent their second night together, spent the day working side by side. He was enjoying her presence. Her closeness was the only bright spot in an otherwise dreary day.
No goblins or mercenaries were seen that day, but nobody believed they had left.
The rain stopped falling about dusk, and the guardians made plans for the return of the siege on the morrow. Trestus was to lead the defense on the western wall, with the rest of the guardians fighting on the eastern wall. Flare trusted Trestus, but he wanted him as far from the main battle as possible. A soldier had to be completely alert in order to survive. With the death of Callin, he didn’t know how much he could Trestus.
Flare had dinner prepared early in the evening, and the guardians ate shortly after dark. He had ulterior motives, and shortly after they were done eating, Flare and Murleen retired. They left the mess hall separately, trying to be discreet about their relationship, but he wasn't sure they were fooling anybody. He wasn't sure exactly what to think about their relationship either. It had started quickly, mainly because of the hopelessness of their situation. Neither of them expected to survive the siege, and their affair was an easy way to share warmth and pleasure prior to death. He enjoyed her immensely, but was not sure what would happen if they survived.
Derek and Atock stood on the western wall looking out into the night. Derek smoked a small pipe, with the smoke moving lazily out over the valley below. He was smoking the bloom of a flower that gave the smoker a feeling of dizziness and make them light headed. Well, normally it would, but Derek was used to the effects.
Atock leaned against the top of the wall and regarded the fires of the goblins with some concern. “It's the first time they have had fires in two days.” He said, “I guess they'll have full bellies tonight.” That did not bode well for the defenders; the goblins would be at full strength tomorrow.
Derek nodded. He had been trying not to think about either the goblins or tomorrow, but it seemed there was no avoiding it. He was holding the pipe in his right hand, and he pointed toward the two sword hilts sticking above Atock's shoulders. “You really prefer two swords to one?”
Atock smiled and nodded, he reached over his shoulders and drew both of the swords in one quick motion. The swords were shorter than a long sword, and they were slightly curved with a sharp edge only on one side. “In my homeland, it is called the art of the snake.” Seeing the look of puzzlement on Derek's face, Atock smiled. “Those that are truly a master of the art can use both swords at the same time and each sword is moved independently of the other. It can remind you of a snake's movement, the head and the tail moving at the same time. It is difficult to counter both swords at once, and even more so here where no one has heard of it.”
Derek nodded, “I can see your point, but I'll stick to my longsword.” He smiled and rubbed his hand over the hilt of his sword. “This weapon has been in my family for generations.” He drew the sword, “One of my ancestors named it Surdim el Aldanon. It means the sword of Aldanon in the old tongue of the Steel kingdom, but now we just call it Surdim. It was given to me by my father when I graduated from the guardians.” The smile slid, “I hope that I can make him proud.”
Atock puzzled over that. The translation made sense. The sword of Aldanon belonged to Derek Aldanon; Aldanon was his family name, but the Steel kingdom? Confused, Atock asked “What is this Steel kingdom that you mentioned? I have never heard of it.”
Derek smiled, “House Steel governs the southern regions of Telur, but they used to be a separate kingdom. Oh, it was many generations ago, before Telur conquered them and converted them to the common speech. My family remembers even though we are only a merchant house.”
Derek fingered his sword hilt, “My grandfather told me that this sword was dwarven crafted.”
Atock's eyes rose, dwarven swords were rare and some of them were worth their weight in gold. The dwarves had quit selling them generations ago, when they had quit trading with humans, and the swords were more sought after than ever. He studied the weapon again, noticing for the first time the runes on the blade near the hilt. He wondered what it was made of; the dwarves had made the strongest weapons, even stronger than steel and the dwarves had guarded their secrets religiously.
Atock looked at his swords, “These swords were first used by my grandfather's grandfather, but they have no name.” He sounded regretful.
Derek sheathed his sword, “Well, perhaps it's time to change that. What would you like to call them?”
After a moment, Atock looked up, “I do not know. It's not something done lightly.”
Derek chuckled, “You're right. Think on it, perhaps something will occur to you.”
Flare had the soldiers up and in the mess hall two hours before sunrise; he wanted them to be on the walls when the sun rose.
The morning dawned a beautiful bright and sunny day. Momentarily, the sunshine cheered the soldiers, but the impending attack quickly brought them back down.
Flare arranged the defense of the western wall the same way he had done on the first day of the siege. He took charge of the soldiers in the center of the wall, Philip took the south side of the wall, and Atock took the northern part, then they waited.
He had put fifty soldiers, under the command of Trestus, on the eastern wall. The wall was woefully undermanned, but the western wall took precedence. That left approximately three hundred and fifty soldiers to guard the five hundred-yard long wall.
The townspeople and tradesmen were the backup. They were not soldiers or fighters, but if the fort fell, then they were dead also, and they knew it. Nothing motivated people like fearing for their lives.
The goblins didn’t attack at first light; instead they waited until noon, perhaps for the sun to dry up some of the water. There was no sneakiness to their attack; instead they just marched slowly toward the walls. Scattered throughout the more common white goblins, were the more fearful black goblins. The black goblins held whips in their hands which they used from time to time to keep the white goblins moving.
The goblins used the same tactics they had used the first time they had attacked the walls. They carried ropes and ladders, and attacked ferociously, not hesitating to throw their lives away.
Archers and townspeople stood in the courtyard and launched arrows over the wall. There was no reason for them to see the attackers, since the goblin army covered the valley floor. Any arrow launched was assured to hit an attacker.
Flare waited until the goblins reached the wall, and screamed, “For Callin!” Dropping the head of his pike, he thrust the nearest ladder away from the wall, but for every one that was pushed away; another three took its place. The mud did help with the ladders, as some of the ladders would sink in the mud and topple on there own, but not enough. The goblins surged forward like ants rushing over a stick.
SWISH! The metal hook attached to one of the goblins’ ropes narrowly missed Flare’s head. Reversing the motion of his pike, he sliced the rope in two, dropping a goblin onto his brethren down below.
Flare heard a scream, and whipped around. Five feet to his left, a Telurian soldier was lying in a pool of his own blood, with his bowels spilled on the wall. A white goblin was standing over the soldier with a bloody scimitar in his hand. The goblin had reached the wall unnoticed, and had taken advantage of that fact, killing the soldier.
“Guard the wall!” Flare shouted at the soldiers nearest to him. “I’ll take care of him!” He dropped his pike, and drawing his sword, charged the goblin.
The goblin sneered an evil grin, laughing as Flare charged him. “Isss th
is the best? Tonight I take your woman, and if you live, I’ll make you watch.”
The words were probably meant to enrage him, to make him fight without thinking, but they had the opposite affect on him. The words calmed him, and cleared his head.
The goblin started the fight with a massive overhead swing. Flare blocked the blow, but felt the jolt all the way down to his toes. He stepped back and to the right, preferring not to fight too close to the goblin.
The goblin then slashed at Flare horizontally, from left to right. Flare dropped below the swing, placing his left hand on the ground and kicked, with his right leg, at the goblin's knee. The goblin was too fast, and jumped out of the way of the kick.
Regaining his feet, Flare assumed a fighting stance. His feet spread shoulder width apart, with the right foot slightly ahead of the left. He assumed a two handed grip on the sword, and watched for the goblin's next move.
The goblin drove right at Flare, attempting to skewer him with the scimitar.
CLANK! Flare knocked the scimitar to the right, and tried to whip his sword back across the throat of the goblin. Once again, the goblin was too fast and moved a step back away from Flare. Flare pressed the situation, by trying his own thrust at the goblin's belly.
CLANK! The goblin slapped Flare’s sword to the side, and rushed him. Flare was caught off guard, and pressed back against the wall. His sword and the goblin's scimitar were locked together, and the two combatants wrestled to gain an advantage. The goblin was clearly stronger, and was forcing Flare to lean backwards over the wall.
Flare released his sword with his left hand, and made a grab for his knife. He missed it, and grabbed at it again, this time he was relieved to feel the knife hilt in his left hand. He reversed his hold, and slashed across the throat of the goblin. Reddish black blood sprayed across Flare, as the goblin stumbled back spewing blood through his hand, which had instinctively grasped his ruined throat.
Pressing the goblin's plight, Flare swung his sword at the monster's throat, nearly severing its head in the process.
Flare breathed a sigh of relief as he sized up the defenders’ predicament. The defenders were holding the attackers at bay, with just a few sneaking onto the wall. The few that managed to reach the wall were being dealt with by groups of two or more soldiers. Loss of life had been minimal for the soldiers, but he felt every loss like a knife in his stomach. The defenders couldn’t afford to lose even so much as a single life, and since they were under his command, the loss hurt that much more.
The attack continued all afternoon, with much the same results. The goblins continued to try and storm the wall, and they succeeded occasionally, but they were repelled almost instantly. The attackers pushed on with unrelenting stubbornness, throwing their lives away in a concerted effort to take the wall.
Flare fought all afternoon beside his fellow soldiers. His arms were sore, and his back hurt from swinging the heavy pike. His heart hurt from watching all the death around him, as well as having to take so many lives, albeit goblin lives.
The soldiers, who were serving under him, were obviously scared to death. Their faces reflected the fear and frustration, at the siege, and at the death of their friends.
The goblins pushed on until dusk, and then fell back. The soldiers manned the walls for another hour, just to make sure that the goblins were through, and then Flare sent the troops to the mess hall. He posted guards, and then went looking for the wounded.
He found Mikela, Atock, Kara, and Enton tending the wounded in a barracks building, which had been turned into a makeshift infirmary.
“Flare, over here.” Atock called out, waving Flare over.
“Atock. How many injured?” He asked.
Atock sighed deeply before answering, “Twenty-two dead. Three injured bad, and not expected to survive the night. Six more are injured badly enough where they will not fight again for a long time, if ever.”
Flare took the news silently, struggling with another possible twenty-five dead on his conscience.
“How many soldiers are left? About three hundred and seventy?” Atock asked.
“Yeah.” Flare asked quietly.
Atock could sense the pain and remorse welling up in his friend; he leaned in and spoke quietly. “Flare. You are doing everything that you can do. These soldiers knew what they were getting into when they joined. These soldiers are defending thousands of farmers and merchants. If they get through us, there’s nothing between them and Telur.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Flare said raising his voice, but instantly feeling guilty. He reached out and grasped Atock's shoulder, “I’m sorry, I guess the strain is getting to me.”
“Forget it. The stress is getting to all of us, and we’re not even in charge.” Atock paused, considering his friend, “Are you going to be all right?”
Flare laughed a laugh he didn’t feel. “No,” was the only answer he could give.
As miserable and heart breaking as the days were, the nights were the exact opposite. Flare’s relationship with Murleen was developing nicely, and he felt for her, like he had never felt for anybody else. He was rather inexperienced with affairs of the heart; this was as close to in love as he had ever been.
For her part, Murleen embraced and returned his affection with a passion that numbed him to the core of his very being.
In her arms, Flare escaped the troubles and tribulations of command. The deaths seemed to melt away and for a short while, he found happiness.
The fourth day since Callin’s death, and Heather’s hopeful departure, dawned sunny and cool. There were a few white clouds in the sky, but there was no hint of rain. Birds could be heard chirping, and everything seemed peaceful. To anyone who had not been at the fort the past week, it would seem to be a perfectly wonderful morning.
Flare stood on the battlements, watching the horizon for any sign of the goblins approach. He could smell cooking fires, and hear the townspeople as they prepared for the coming attack.
He assigned Trestus to the eastern wall again, but only assigned him forty-five soldiers. Most of the forty-five soldiers were injured in one way or another. Nothing serious, but enough for them to be assigned to the less dangerous side of the fort.
Flare only had three hundred and twenty-five soldiers left to guard the western wall.
The goblins once again made the defenders wait until noon for the attack. The goblins were probably doing it on purpose; sometimes the anticipation of an event was worse than the actual event.
When the attack came, it was sudden and surprising. A solid wall of goblins rushed the fort, in the same manner they had previously attacked.
Flare was surprised. He was expecting the goblins to try something different, but once again they attacked carrying ladders and ropes. He briefly noticed that a large number of the black goblins were concentrated in the middle of the attackers, but he quickly forgot about it as he was forced to cut ropes and push ladders away from the wall.
Shortly after the fighting began, he heard a shout come from behind him. He spun around, and saw that two goblins had gained the wall, and slaughtered a defender. The goblins were trying to hold their ground, while more goblins climbed up behind them. Flare opened his mouth to shout a command, when he saw that the soldiers were already aware of the situation.
Three soldiers charged the goblins. Two soldiers took the goblin on the left, and the other soldier engaged the goblin on the right. Flare realized, with a start, that the soldier on the right was Derek, his fellow guardian.
Flare sprinted toward the fight, hoping to get there before any more goblins climbed over the wall.
Derek squared off against the goblin, saying a silent prayer as he drew Surdim from its sheath. The goblin was a nasty looking brute. He was six feet tall and heavily muscled. He had several inch long fangs, and his hands ended in long claws. He carried a long and wide scimitar.
The goblin swung the scimitar, on a downward swing. Derek was smart enough to not try and block
the scimitar; instead he used his sword to deflect it away from him. Then, he quickly tried to reverse the motion and spear the goblin with his sword, but he was too slow and missed.
The goblin started a massive swing from Derek’s left to right, and Derek swung upward hoping to deflect the sword again. The goblin somehow stopped his swing, and used his scimitar to knock Derek’s sword away. Both the sword and the scimitar went flying from the collision, and Derek found himself in unarmed combat with a monstrous goblin.
Sensing the advantage, the goblin roared a primitive cry, and brought a massive forearm down on the top of Derek’s helmet.
Derek collapsed to the ground dazed and seeing yellow spots, as the goblin scurried to retrieve his scimitar. After a moment his head began to clear, and he looked up to see the goblin raise his scimitar, over his head.
Derek, sitting on his butt, stared at the scimitar in the goblins’ hands. He watched as the sword began its downward swing, bringing his death with it. Praying, Derek closed his eyes and hoped it would be quick.
Derek heard a THUMP, and a CLANK. He opened his eyes, and saw the goblin lying beside his scimitar in a growing pool of blood. It took several moments for Derek to realize that its head was lying several feet from the rest of its body.
Standing over the body of the goblin, Flare smiled at Derek, “Hey Derek. Need some help?”
Derek was glad he was still sitting down, his knees were weak, and his body was going numb. He closed his eyes and relaxed his head backward against the wall trying to not pee himself.
Flare was surprised that there were no more ladders or grappling hooks hanging on the wall. He would have thought the attackers would have tried to pore as many goblins as possible into the breach.
BOOM! BOOM! A thunderous noise rolled over the battlements.
‘What in the name of the abyss was that?' Flare thought, jumping toward the battlements. For a moment, he thought that the goblins had brought some more siege towers. That thought was quickly displaced by a new danger.
The Guardians: Book One of the Restoration Series Page 23
