Bera waded forward, slashing to keep a goblin back, and with her free hand, reached out to help a knight who’d fallen in one of the shallow pits. “Brosha! Give me your hand!” He waved her off and pointed to his leg, twisted unnaturally, blood seeping out from a gap between the greave and knee piece.
“Doleman! Bring two men!” It would take at least two to carry Brosha out. She waited until Doleman headed her way. Slashing again at a goblin darting near and drawing a thick line of blood across his belly, she moved toward the next pit and extended her hand as another knight came in behind her and finished off the injured goblin.
Ahead, she watched one of her men snatched up by the branch of a red maple. A heartbeat later, the tree hurled him over the edge of the bluff. The branch reached for another but was thwarted by a lieutenant who cut the offending branch off with one swing.
Bera knew what was happening with the trees and branches-a druid was at work somewhere, animating the oaks as though they were an army of creatures fighting on the side of the goblins. She hadn’t realized goblins possessed such magic …
“Get behind Isaam!” That was shouted by Carthor, who had fought his way past Bera and busy tugging another one of her men out of a pit. “Everyone, get behind Isaam now!”
Bera worked her way up to Carthor, slicing the arm off one skinny brown goblin, and lopping the head off another. Individually, the goblins presented scant challenge. But there were so many of them … the ground was covered with their odorous, ugly forms. There were hobgoblins too, and all of the enemy wielded one sort of weapon or another-knives, spears, clubs. Again a hail of arrows rained down from the goblins, most of them bouncing off the Dark Knights’ armor, but some finding their way into gaps between gorgets and shoulder pieces. A few arrows drove through the steel cuisse sections that covered knights’ thighs and even punched into their breast plates.
Another return volley was launched by her knights, their arrows proving more effective against the goblins, only a few of whom wore anything resembling armor.
Though more goblins than knights were dying, Bera raged that any of her men had been killed. It was not supposed to have happened that way. It was her fault for underestimating the goblins, not considering them to be worthy opponents.
“Regroup!” she bellowed. She wrapped both hands around the pommel of her sword and drove the blade down on a barrel-chested, red-skinned goblin that rushed frenetically at her. His spear broke against the overlapping plates on her hips, and she split his head partway in two. “Behind Isaam. Regroup!”
A glance back toward the tree line showed that more of her men had fought their way there. Not one goblin had pursued them. Isaam’s spell made a shield wall, she realized, invisible and effective, keeping the goblins to their section of the scabrous land. She looked to the bluff, where about a hundred knights remained. They maneuvered around the pits, alternately fighting goblins and hobgoblins and tree branches that continued to whip down and lash at them. Several knights were being held in wooden grips a dozen or more feet off the ground.
She spotted Zocci at the edge of the bluff, his axe scarlet from the goblins he’d slain. There was a mound of dead goblins around him, and Bera’s heart leaped to see that he was still unscathed. The edge of his blade glowed faintly blue, and she remembered Isaam had said it reeked of magic. He swept it in a wide arc, cutting one goblin in half at the waist and lodging it halfway into the chest of another. Zocci brought his leg up to push the goblin off his weapon so he could continue the fight.
Bera never felt more alive than when she was fighting such a battle. The ache in her arms from her repeated swings was welcome. The warm flush in her face invigorated her. They were an enemy she hated, so the slaying was all the more rewarding. She envied Zocci for having a weapon that was impossibly sharp.
She resisted the urge to fight her way to him and join in fighting by his side, sharing the bloodbath he was creating.
But she was in charge, so her goal was to get her men to safety so she could plan a fresh assault. “Retreat! Regroup!” She would not call for a surrender. She’d never surrender to the likes of those creatures. “Slay them all,” her superior had told her. “Every last one.”
First she had to pull her forces back by those rare trees Tavor had spotted. Then the fight would be on her terms-not theirs. Tavor? No doubt the goblins had gotten him first.
Zocci faced two hobgoblins. One was nearly as tall as he and ugly from all the scars that crisscrossed its face and arms. The other looked old with stooped shoulders. The older one wielded a thick spear, prodding methodically with it, then jabbing forward, as if he’d had some training with the weapon.
Where? Bera wondered. Where could goblins possibly get weapons training? But many clearly had, as they nimbly darted in and swept their knives in fluid arcs, aiming at the joints in the knights’ leg plates and now and then meeting with success. The knights had the longer reach and better weapons, so they could often kill a goblin before it was able to slip in close enough. But some managed to duck beneath Dark Knights’ blades.
“So damn many rats,” she cursed as she cut down one after another. “Too damn many.” And where was Grallik? She’d only observed goblins and hobgoblins. “Where is the traitor?”
She fought with renewed urgency. “Get behind me. Get back to Isaam.” She gestured to a trio fighting a throng of brown-skinned goblins with shrunken heads dangling from their belts. What did that mean, shrunken heads? “Damnable creatures. Regroup!”
The trees continued to flail at her men. Goblins were perched above the animated limbs and kept firing with their primitive bows. Her bowmen were targeting them, and as she watched, a broad-shouldered goblin plummeted from its branch.
“Where is Grallik?” And which goblin or hobgoblin could be the druid who forced the trees to take sides in the melee? There were too many goblins for Bera to pick out which one might be responsible for the trees. And there were too many-“Grallik!”
She didn’t spy the wizard, but she did see a thin column of flame shoot down next to a clump of birches. A handful of her knights had backed themselves into that place, and the flames caught them … but miraculously did not touch the goblins they were fighting. The men burned inside their armor, their screams barely audible above the clash of weapons and all the shouting. Grallik had to be responsible for such fire.
“Grallik!” Bera spun one way then the other, swinging wildly to keep the goblins back as she searched for the traitor. Colorful shards cut through the air, melting into the breast plate of one of her best female knights. The woman clutched at her chest and fell backward. A hobgoblin swooped in and picked up her sword as more colorful light shards flew past.
“The traitor is here!” Bera shouted. “Grallik is casting these spells! Zocci! Regroup!”
Bera needed him to fight his way back to safety too. Zocci was too isolated at the edge of the bluff, surrounded by goblins and hobgoblins with not another knight for more than a dozen yards. She could see a wide smile on his face. Like her, he was at his best, his happiest, when he was in a fight with a foe.
“Aye, Bera!” He’d heard her. “I’ll join you in a moment.” He said something else, but she couldn’t hear. Or perhaps he’d only mouthed it: “My love,” she thought it was. “I’ll join you in a moment, my love.”
She thrust her sword into the chest of an overly thin hobgoblin. Pulling her blade out, she heard a nearby hobgoblin cry out, “Rustymane! Rusty!” then begin to sob.
“Sentimental rats,” she snarled. “Zocci! Regroup!”
Zocci only laughed. He was facing a big hobgoblin, roughly Zocci’s height, who warily circled Zocci and jabbed forward with a long knife in one hand then made a chopping motion with an axe in the other.