by Brad Clark
Marik watched the dragon leave, his chest heaving not only from exertion but from relief. Clearly, the great beast of the sky was not dead, but he had wounded it enough to drive it off. A better shot would have sent the arrow all the way through the eye and into the brain, killing it. He could not dwell on the missed shot as he needed to be thankful that he found a weakness.
He knew a wounded animal would eventually recover its strength. While it was wounded, though, it would be weakened and vulnerable. Now was the time to take advantage of that and not give it an opportunity to heal.
Marik looked around for a horse. At first, the only horses he could see were blackened bodies lying on the ground, having died in a most painful way. Some of their riders were next to their mounts, having died alongside them. Others had crawled away, having survived the initial blast of dragon fire, but died slowly as the fire ate them away.
He could not mourn them right now. There would be a time when the war was over. Right now, he needed to continue the fight against their biggest threat.
“Sir Marik!” Called out one of the knight archers. “Lord Kirwal is looking for you. He sent us to help you out, but now you must go help him.”
Marik continued to look around for a horse as he kept one eye on the fleeing dragon. “I need a horse! Any horse, preferably fast.”
“Sir? But Lord Kirwal has asked for you. Our scouts have reported that the creatures are almost here. There are thousands of them and our defenses are weak.”
Marik shook his head. “That beast will destroy us all. We must stop it first. I know how to do it.”
Shouting from the distance reached their ears. They turned towards the forest to see the first of the goblin horde start running towards the city. Arrows flew towards them, sending many to their deaths. But many more continued to pour out from the trees.
“Can you not see?”
Hargon walked up behind him. “I can help,” he said with a firm, confident voice. “I can kill them. Sir Marik, go kill your beast.” He turned to the knight and said in a demanding tone, “Soldier, take me to Lord Kirwal. I will show him how we are going to fight these devil-creatures now.”
The knight glanced first at Marik and then at Hargon. After a moment of indecision, he said, “Our horses are hidden behind the buildings.”
Marik said nothing as he ran to the horses, taking the first one he found. There was too much anger and emotion to speak, and his thoughts were on only one thing: killing the dragon.
The rest of the surviving knights led Hargon towards the edge of the city where more fighting was about to begin.
Chapter Eleven
The drums surprised Hargon. It's not what he expected to hear coming from a pack of devil-spawned creatures, and at first he thought it was his imagination. The last time he had actually stood with an army was when he was young, old enough to handle a sword, but young enough to not be trusted with it. His father still sat upon the throne of the Taran Empire and thought that his young and soft son should see what the world was really like. With the war with the barbarians of the north raging as intense as it had ever been, what better way to experience life than to experience death? At least that’s what his father had hoped.
The drums had caused nightmares for many years to come. Any sound that resembled the deep, pounding beat of the northern barbarian’s war drums reminded him of that day of battle when blood and limbs flew freely. It was also the day when he realized that the might of the Taran Empire was not what he always thought it was.
The war drums used by the barbarian tribes were not just random noise made by a race of lesser humans, but they were sophisticated communication among the warriors during battle. He vividly remembered laughing about the drums to his general. He also vividly remembered the veteran commander’s response. With a grim face, his general had turned to him and chastised him as much as an emperor’s son could be chastised. With each drumbeat, the general described what the sounds meant. The beats were more than just signals such a fight and retreat. There were complex commands built not only into the pitch of the drum but also into the rests in between the beats. The more the general described, the more the young boy who would become emperor realized that maybe the world wasn’t what he expected. They might be barbarians, but that didn’t make them less intelligent. And more dangerous.
On that battlefield, so many years ago, it was the mighty Taran Empire that lost the day. Hundreds of their centurions had fallen upon the cold, icy battlefields. He remembered the final drumbeats – a crescendo of fast beats that ended with their entire army standing tall upon a hill, cheering the slow retreat of the world’s mightiest army.
A chill went up his spine as the sound of the drums of the goblin army filled his ears. He would have been more chilled if he knew the skins that were stretched across their big bass drums were that of fallen Taran Centurions.
Hargon approached the mass of men that was the Karmon army. The Karmon Knights that had fought with him were already intermingled with the soldiers preparing to fight. At the rear of the army, a large tent had been erected, and he headed directly towards it. The activity told him that this was where the Karmon generals would be.
Inside the open-sided tent, a large man clad in a bloody cloak was hollering commands to those around him. His voice boomed with the authority of the lead general. Hargon approached.
The man’s eyes narrowed as he saw Hargon and he turned to face him. “You came with Sir Marik?”
“I am Hargon.”
“The once Emperor of Taran?”
Hargon nodded his head. “I am he.”
With an irritated tone, the large man snapped, “I am Lord Kirwal. You carry no sword or bow. If you wish to join the battle, there will be plenty to find upon the battlefield once the fighting begins.”
“I do not need a sword or bow,” Hargon replied with a sharp tone of his own. He lifted his right hand, palm up, mumbled the words of the spell and a small ball of fire appeared floating above his head. The ball of fire spun and rotated. He could feel its heat, but it would not hurt him. With an easy, graceful move, Hargon turned and tossed the ball of fire in a straight line towards the horde of goblins massing at the edge of the forest.
“What is this!” Lord Kirwal exclaimed. He and everyone else around him took a step back. “You possess the power of the darkness?”
Hargon smiled, his thin lips spreading wide to show his perfect, white teeth. “At one time the world was filled with men like me. Men who could call forth the power of magic. Good magic. Magic that can defend cities and win wars. The goblin horde we face is mighty. Probably too mighty for the small army you have here. But with me at the front, I will give you your victory and defend your city.”
Only the ambient sound of battle preparations filled their ears for several heartbeats.
Lord Kirwal cleared his throat and said, “Your help is most welcome. I have heard from Sir Marik of you and your flight from Taran with Conner. If Sir Marik can trust Tarans to fight alongside him, I think I can as well.”
Everyone else breathed and tension left the tent, but the knights who were packed into the tent still gave Hargon a wary eye.
“Where is Sir Marik? I saw that others have returned, but I have not seen him.”
“He has wounded the dragon and gives chase.”
Lord Kirwal muttered to himself under his breath, followed by a slow shake of his head. “We could have used his sword in battle today. But if he believes he can slay the beast, I will trust his judgment. We cannot defend this city. There are no walls to hide behind like South Karmon. Little did that help them. Our goal is only to stave off the goblin army long enough to escape into the mountains. Scouts have already blazed a trail for our people, and they will begin escaping the moment the battle begins. We hope the fighting will provide enough cover for them to get a clean escape.”
“And if the goblins have an army trying to flank yours to the north? They will run right into your unprotected people, and the
y will be slaughtered.”
Lord Kirwal gave Hargon a surprised look, having forgotten that he was talking to a former Taran Emperor, who should have some knowledge of military tactics. “Yes, of course, we have considered that. The scouts have set up a line a mile to the west and will be able to signal us if they do try to outflank us. But frankly, the goblins do not seem to be the most sophisticated of warriors. I see them simply charging at us and trying to overwhelm us with numbers and not tactics.”
“How long do we have to hold?”
“Every spare wagon, cart, and horse are being used to empty the city. Most of our knights have relinquished their warhorses to help our people escape. If we can hold through the night, we can begin pulling our army back to protect the rear of our escape. I do not want to extend the fight into the forest. The goblins would have a clear advantage against us. We must meet them here tonight and delay them long enough so that our people get a good head start. Once we’ve pulled out of the city and we can maintain a slow retreat while protecting our rear, I believe we can escape safely into the mountains.”
“With my help, you can be assured that there will be no more goblins nipping at the heels of your people. We can not only slow them but slay them outright.”
“Is that confidence or arrogance? Arrogance has no place on the field of battle, for the moment you assume victory, you will be disappointed.”
“My power is great,” Hargon replied back, annoyed that Lord Kirwal was not impressed by his abilities. “You will see.”
“We will attack the moment the goblins begin their march down the hill from the forest. We will meet them halfway between the edge of the forest and the city. This will allow us to slowly retreat backward while continuing the fight. I will be holding back one-quarter of the army, and they will attack their northern flank. At worst, we push them south and farther away from our retreat.”
“Put me up front. I will destroy them before you even need to commit your reserves.”
Lord Kirwal laughed. “A Taran Emperor at the front of the battle? Are you prepared for that?”
Hargon started to feel angry. He might have once been the Taran Emperor, but no more. He was better than that. He was more powerful than he ever had been. No creature of the devil could touch him. He would simply fry them before they got close enough. It would be a simple and efficient slaughter.
“I have stood toe to toe with a dragon. Have you? I am prepared to kill.”
From behind them, a new voice said, “But are you prepared to die?”
Everyone turned to see a fully armored knight covered in blood. His face was smeared with dirt and grime, but his sharp eyes glared angrily at Hargon. He marched into the tent, heading straight for Lord Kirwal, but his eyes remained locked on Hargon.
“Sir Kern,” Lord Kirwal said in greeting.
Kern gave a slight nod and asked, “What is this Taran doing in here?”
“It is good to see you alive, Sir Kern,” Lord Kirwal said. Ever the diplomat, he quickly turned aside the conversation. “You brought more knights with you?”
“Less than there should be, thanks to the Tarans.” His eyes bore even more deeply into Hargon. “There were only twenty of us initially on patrol in the mountains when we came upon the rear of the Taran army. We tried to get through to warn Queen Elissa, but there were too many centurions and too few of us. We went back up into the mountains and went east to warn the villages of the Taran invasion. On our way back to Tyre, we came upon the creatures that are now about ready to attack. Our twenty quickly became five before we could escape. We’ve been moving our way southeast since then, hiding and only moving at night. The forest is filled with the creatures. There are thousands out there.”
“Your five will help.”
Kern let out an unfavorable grunt. “You’re kidding, right? They are packed tightly a mile into the forest. You do not have enough men. They will overrun you and tear into the city. The city is already lost.”
“We only need to slow them down, not defeat them. The survivors of the city are retreating to the northeast and will find shelter in the mountains. Mountain passes and cliffs can be more easily defended than a city with no walls.”
“We can defeat them here, on this field,” Hargon said.
“Unless you brought an army of your centurions with you, your words are meaningless.”
“Hargon has the power of magic,” Lord Kirwal said.
“Magic?” Kern asked.
“The lost art of magic runs in the blood of my family,” Hargon replied. “I have the power to defeat this goblin horde. With me at the front of the army, you will see.”
Kern laughed. “I would gladly see you at the front of the army. If not for Taran, our kingdom would not be in ruins!”
“Easy, Sir Kern,” Lord Kirwal said. “Our fight appears no longer to be with Taran, but the forces of darkness that have been unleashed upon our kingdom. Hargon here can help. He has shown us his power, and as much as you and your four men will help, Hargon here can help even more. Sir Marik vouches for him. And the queen as well.”
“The Queen? Where is she? She is safe?”
“She and Conner are on a diplomatic mission to find help from a kingdom across the sea. We must hold our army together until she can return with help.”
A flash of relief crossed Sir Kern’s face. “I feared the worst.” He looked Hargon over from head to toe and wasn’t really that impressed. “Even if Sir Marik vouches for him, I will stand at his side, and the moment he tries to run when the goblins attack, I will slit his throat where he stands. He will either fight, or he will die.”
“I do not fear death,” Hargon replied.
“You should,” Kern snapped back.
“There is water and some food,” said Lord Kirwal. “Quench your thirst and fill yourself with what you can. The battle is nearly upon us, and you will need your strength.”
Without another word, Sir Kern spun on his heels and marched out of the tent.
Hargon watched him leave, and a real sense of sorrow came over him. It was his own brother that had started this conflict and even though he had nothing to do with his brother’s decisions, he felt some responsibility for it. If only he had been wiser and less trusting of his brother, he might have been able to avoid getting poisoned, which allowed his brother Prince Tarcious to take control of his empire. He knew he could not, and should not, dwell on the past, but it stuck with him. His hand itched as he thought of the power that he held in his hands. He could easily make amends for not only his brother’s actions but his own inactions. He would use his new powers to take down the goblin horde, sending each and every creature back to the hell they came from. Then he would march straight for the remains of South Karmon, alone if he had to, killing any goblin or other devilish creature he came across. Even those great Stone Ogres would fall to his power.
***
The beat of the drums had grown louder and faster. Hargon and his five personal knights, led by Sir Kern, pushed their way through the Karmon army that was now fully ready. Lord Kirwal had donned his own armor and sat upon one of the few warhorses that remained. Far to the right of the army, mounted knights patiently kept their warhorses in check as they waited for the battle to start. As the goblin army attacked, they would be the first to counter-attack, running directly across the front of the goblin horde, slowing down their advance. This would allow the main army to move forward and engage the goblins under favorable terms.
Hargon cared little for the strategy that Lord Kirwal had spent nearly an hour explaining to the battlefield commanders. His thoughts were focused and concentrated on making sure his mind was ready. This new ability to cast spells was certainly something that he was not an expert in, but in the little time that he had, he knew that the more he concentrated, the more power he was able to reach into and use.
The knights, soldiers, men, boys, and even a few women, stood aside as they pushed their way through. He saw all sorts of faces and all sorts of
expressions. Some were white-faced and full of fear. Others were barely able to contain the rage that they felt. As he passed them by, he wondered how many of them would still be alive at the end of the day. He hoped all of them would be, but he knew that was just naïve thinking. This was war, and war meant death. Many would die, many more would be seriously wounded. Hardly any would make it out unscathed. If he was able to make a difference and make sure at least one more soldier made it home to his family, he knew it would be a success.
He almost laughed out loud. When did he suddenly get so sentimental? He never in his life thought about others. It had only ever been about Hargon and what others could do for him. But for some reason he had been touched by the words of a stranger in a back alley. That stranger had been sad for the death of his friend and for some strange reason, Hargon had felt sad as well. Thinking back through his life, he had never been sad about anyone else. Until that one time when empathy had caused him to bring Conner back from the dead.
He stopped dead in his tracks. The knight behind him grunted as he almost ran into him.
If Conner had not been there, if he had not healed him from death, their world would be much different now. It would be worse. Much worse. Conner had given them all hope and a chance at a future. Without him coming into their lives, their world might already have been taken over by Tarcious and the Deceiver. Instead, they had a fighting chance.
“Having second thoughts?” Sir Kern asked with clear insolence in his voice.
Hargon felt the insult, but it did not bother him. It was time for him to finally step forward and do something for someone else. His hand itched and a tingling sensation crawled up his spine. The power of magic was aching to get out.
“Not at all,” Hargon replied. He continued forward, pushing through the last ranks of the army.
The surrounding forests were on slightly higher ground, so he had seen the goblin horde even before he reached the front ranks of the army. The small creatures could not stand still. They ran about pushing, shoving, and leaping. Their long talons slashed about, dismembering other goblins around them. But as one goblin fell, more pushed forward from the trees.
