Mal woke and rolled from the covers, standing up and stretching the kinks out of her back. The scant few hours of sleep she had been able to recover after the attack. Where just enough, not that it had been an easy sleep, thoughts of the battle and the joy. She had felt when the men of the Black Guard had knelt and fully accepted her as their leader, let alone the kiss she had shared with Prince Salistar had gathered together to keep her from sleeping much. She couldn’t understand the golden lines that she had seen connecting everyone, or the more she thought of it, she was sure that those lines were connecting them to her. As she was convinced that the pulses of energy were travelling towards her but why.
Shaking her head, she reached for her clothes and noticed that the armoured clothes she usually wore had been replaced with some fresh ones. She must have slept at some time as she had no memory of anyone coming into her tent to replace them.
Walking out into the morning light, the smell of the morning meal greeted her nose. Smiling, she went over to the cooks. Like every morning, when she eventually sat down at the fire, a cup of Kuffa would be waiting while the morning oats were prepared.
“Has Prince Salistar been sent any food?” She enquired.
“Not yet, mam; Master Jarek has been checking on him throughout the night.” Replied the cook nodding towards Prince Salistar’s tent where Master Lillybright could be seen leaving.
Seeing Mal was up already, he headed over to sit beside her. “Good morning Commander, how did you sleep?” He asked.
“Badly, to be honest, it’s the same thing after any type of major event where you keep going over things in your head, and every time you get one sorted, another appears to keep you awake. I’ll sleep better tonight, well, hopefully,” she replied with a smile. “How is Salistar?”
“Sleeping well now Mam, I had to give him a sleeping powder to help with the pain; he should sleep for a couple more hours. I’m afraid that we won’t make much time today. But he should be able to ride later today.”
“Fine, I’ll be heading back to Lord Marshall Deville’s shortly. I want to see that door again before we leave. Get some sleep yourself,” she replied.
Once she had broken her fast, she called for her horse. Tomi, Dareon, Chamberlain Wintersong and twelve of the knights accompanied her into the town of Kurik. As they approached the main gates, they swung open, and the guards stepped aside, letting Mal and her party enter the town unobstructed.
When they reached the gates of the keep itself, the Captain of the Lord Marshals men was waiting for them in the courtyard.
“Nice to see you again. Is Prince Salistar not with you today?” he asked Mal, the tone he used had no respect in it at all.
Realising that this was probably one of those men that thought that girls should be seen and not heard and definitely not able to do anything that a man could do. Hearing the knights shifting their swords as they dismounted. Mal knew that this could deteriorate into open conflict quickly; her temper started to rise, not needing anyone to stick up for her just because she was a woman.
“My title is Commander, you should use it when you speak to me, Or would you like to try and take my sword away from me?” She snapped her hand on the hilt of her sword and the threat open and unconcealed. Men had died last night, some by her hand, and she was sure as hell not going to back down from this old man that had an issue with a woman leading.
Seeing he had been cowered, she turned her back on him and walked up the steps where the Lord Marshal was just arriving through the doors of the keep. As he walked down the steps to meet Mal, he glanced between Mal and the Captain of his guard.
“Anything going on here I should be aware of? And where’s my nephew? I hope he’s not sleeping off too much wine?” asked the Lord Marshal.
“No, I was just explaining a couple of things to the captain of your guard,” said Mal with a voice of steel. Taking a deep breath, “Lord Marshal, I’m sorry to say that our camp was attacked last night. Fifteen assassins attempted to kill the Prince, and I. Prince Salistar is fine but was wounded in the skirmish. I was wondering if I could see the door again.”
“Do you need a surgeon? I can send mine down to the camp if you need?” asked the Lord Marshal.
“No thanks, the Prince and the rest of the wounded have been looked after and are recovering; Sal is sleeping at the minute,” replied Mal putting a reassuring hand on the Lord Marshalls arm.
“In that case, let’s go and look a the doors again and see if we can discern anything from them.” Said the Lord Marshal hooking his arm so that Mal could take it as they walked into the keep.
“I have to apologise about the Captain, he’s old but very good at his job. If he insulted you, I am truly sorry,” said the Lord Marshal quietly so that only Mal could hear.
“Well, I shouldn’t have snapped at him. I guess we are a little on edge after last night,” she replied, giving the Lord Marshal’s arm a slight squeeze.
Mal ran her hand over the wooden door depicting the battle scene. Pikemen with their Halberds pointing forwards and rushing into battle with their leader out in front like the tip of a giant wedge smashing into a mixed group of orcs and goblins the dead littered the ground under their feet. Above the men’s heads, the scene showed the start of hills and a road leading to the top of the door.
Tracing the route of the road with her finger, Mal felt some minor differences in the texture of the wood. Grabbing a stool so that she could see the details better. She was amazed by the work. The detail was finely carved into the wood from far; it all merged to look like grasslands, but up close, the detail could only be seen when looking downwards.
Turning to the Page that the Lord Marshal had left with her while she studied the door, “Could you get me some parchment and a charcoal stick, please?”
Finally having something to do, he jumped up, gave a quick bow and scurried off to find the items she had requested, leaving Mal to study the door.
When he returned, he had a roll of the chamberlains’ parchment under one arm, a tray of sweetmeats and pastries, and a cup containing a rich brown drink.
“I thought you might be hungry, Mam,” he said, setting the tray down.
The smell of the food soon had Mal’s stomach rumbling. Surprised as she had just eaten, she looked out the window to see that the sun was high in the air. She realised that she had no idea what time it was.
“I didn’t realise that so much time had passed,” she said to the Page.
“It’s late afternoon, mam,” he replied.
“Really?” She said, truly surprised that most of the day had passed. Picking up one of the sweetmeats and biting into it was heavenly; the juices dripped down her chin. Laughing at herself, she wiped the fluid away with a finger and sucked the sticky substance up.
“You’ve brought me more than I could ever eat; please help yourself,” said Mal looking at the cup of brown liquid. Picking up the cup, she smelt the cup; it had a strangely pleasant smell. When she took a sip, she expected the same bitterness that kuffa had and was surprised by the sweet flavour, which brought a smile to her face.
“Thank you so much; it’s wonderful,” she said as he tucked into one of the sweetmeats.
The more that Mal studied the door, the more detail she could see. Knowing that she needed to view it from above, she made significant progress.
She started to draw out the shapes that she saw one after another. Every time she thought she had found the last symbol, her eye led her to the next. Half an hour later, when she reached the top of the door, the parchment was half full of little drawings.
The final shape was only half there; it was missing the top half. Mal finally remembered the Lord Marshals comment, the original doors were cut to fit the doors of this keep and that the tops had been used for the doors of a wardrobe.
Turning to the Page, she said, “I need to see the Lord Marshal as soon as possible.”
“Yes, Mam,” said the Page getting up and leading her to the main room of the keep where the Lord Marshal was overseeing court.
As Mal entered the room, she could see two men standing beside each other. Apparently, one man, a merchant, had accused the other man of swindling him and had brought the matter to the Lord Marshal for justice.
When the Lord Marshal saw Mal walking over towards him, he smiled, “Ah, Commander Malderia, I will be with you shortly. I just need to deal with this issue first.”
Dropping a curtsy to the Lord Marshal, Mal was about to say there was no rush when the two men drew daggers and rushed Mal. The room exploded into chaos as everyone tried to react at the same time. Mal’s sword was in her hand and parried the first attacker. She ran the length of her sword along the blade of his dagger. The tip of her blade sliced into his neck, hitting the main artery; blood exploded in every direction as Mal disengaged from the tumbling corpse. Twisting and ducking under the second assailant, her blade bit deep into the man tearing through the arm and bone in one fluid motion. As he went into shock, he slipped and fell on the blood of his friend, while Mal skidded to stop on the opposite side from where she started.
“Dear God!” Exclaimed the Lord Marshal, it was then that Mal realised that the fight had lasted seconds; the Lord Marshal didn’t even have time to fully stand up from his seat.
The silence in the room was replaced by mutterings of “Ogre slayer”. The speed that Mal had dealt with the two assassins had left everyone speechless. The face of the Lord Marshal’s Captain was white with shock.
As Mal’s men surrounded her in a protective circle, Dareon laughed, “Mal, I don’t think you’ll have any issue with the captain after that performance,” which received a snort of laughter from the rest of the Black Guard and some of the men sitting near enough to overhear.
The Lord Marshal looked from Mal to the two assassins, one dead and one in the process of dying; the squirting of blood from his arm was slowing as his heart found it had nothing left to pump.
“Take these corpses out of here and find out how they got in. Commander, are you ok?” asked the Lord Marshal, suddenly realising that a lioness was in the room with him. He realised that he hadn’t seen her arm move, but suddenly her sword was in her hand and he was sure that she was going to die.
“Yes, Lord Marshal, my apologies for that; it seems we haven’t heard the last from these assassins. If I may ask, how did they get in?”
“I was told they were merchants that were accusing each other of fraud over a transaction and asked for my justice on the matter. My Captain will dig into it and get to the bottom of it; rest assured.” He replied.
“I’ll need to be going shortly. I found a lot of symbols on the door frame, and I was wondering if I could see the top of the door so that I can make sure I get all of the information I can before we leave.” She said, gesturing to the Page that had been standing beside her with rolls of parchment in his hands.
“Yes, I’ll take you there straight away,” he said, getting up to lead her there himself. When Mal’s guards stepped aside to let him into the protective circle. He realised that nothing he said would make them remain. He was impressed with what had this little girl done to win over the hearts of her men fully. As they reached the Page, the men stepped aside to allow him to enter the circle as well before they continued out of the room.
The Lord Marshal had been in the army for thirty summers and knew the look that soldiers gave to commanders that would lay their lives down without hesitation. He saw that look in these men and was honestly jealous as it had been years since he was at his peak leading men into battle.
Leading Mal and her guard higher into the keep, they came at last to the room that held the wardrobe. As the Lord Marshal reached for the door handle. Dareon stepped in front of him.
“Excuse me, my lord, no offence meant, but let us check out the room first.” He said while signalling two men to accompany him.
“Of course”
Stepping into the room with their swords drawn, the three men searched it, including opening the wardrobe. Seeing that there were no other entrances to the room, Dareon signalled the two guards that had accompanied him to take up positions on either side of the door before exiting the room.
“All clear, Commander, My Lord.” He said, stepping to the side to allow them to enter the room.
Mal spent the next hour scribbling out the symbols that she found on the door. While the Lord Marshal went over some of the papers she had done earlier.
“I can’t believe that I didn’t see this before.” He said, openly eager to make his own copied so that he could study the strange markings.
“It was a fluke that I found the first one, but once I realised what it was, I saw the second, then the third. I still don’t understand what I have here, but I hope that I will be able to make sense of them as we travel,” said Mal with a heavy sigh; she had been hoping for something more that would point out where she should go next.
“I’ve seen this symbol before,” said the Lord Marshal. “Now, where did I see it again. Mmmm, that’s right, it is carved into the wall by the North Gate.”
“Really? Could it be that simple that these are Markers of how to get to Darseholt, and all we have to do is find them?” asked Mal, some of the weight lifting off her shoulders at least they now knew the direction they needed to travel from here.
When Mal returned to the camp, she noticed that the men were breaking camp, and she was glad to see Prince Salistar sitting by the campfire eating stew. Smiling, Mal took a bowl from the camp cook and sat down beside Prince Salistar.
“Sal, it is good to see you up. How are you feeling?”
“To be honest bloody sore. I’m not looking forward to wearing the armour when we head out.”
“Don’t then; I think you might be better riding on one of the wagons for a day or two; let your body heal.”
“A wagon!” He groaned in reply.
Laughing a rich chuckle, Mal punched him gently on the shoulder. “You’ll survive.”
While Mal tucked into the hearty stew, Prince Salistar watched her intently. “So….did you find anything you were away for quite a while?”
“Yes,” replied Mal between mouthfuls of stew and trying not to smile, seeing the look of mild annoyance on his face.
“Would you like to tell me?”
“I have good news I found a series of clues embedded on the carved door. The first symbol is on the North gate, apparently. I think the road to Darseholt is marked with these symbols, and if we can follow them, they will take us the whole way there.”
“That’s great news; I’ll be glad to be on the road again before the assassins can regroup and attack us again.”
Noticing Mal’s wince, Prince Salistar said, “Out with it what else happened.”
“When I entered the main chamber to speak with the Lord Marshal, two assassins attacked me.”
“Goddamit!” exclaimed Prince Salistar, “From now on, your going to be surrounded by guards armed to the teeth,” turning to look at Dareon and the others as they were sitting down with their bowls of evening stew.
While she loved the protective nature of the Prince towards her. She didn’t like the thought that people thought she couldn’t look after herself.
Before she could snap a response, Dareon interjected, “They were both dead before they realised that she had moved, Commander. To be honest, I’ve never seen anyone move that fast. We didn’t even have the chance to stand up, let alone draw our own swords before Mal had killed both of them.”
Looking at those that had accompanied her, Prince Salistar watched as each nodded their agreement.
“That’s right, Commander,” said one of the knights that had accompanied Mal and that Prince Salistar knew to be a veteran of many battles. A man that could be relied on reporting without embellishing the story.
“Well, Commander, since most of the day has gone and the horses have grazed most of the grass here, I have ordered the camp moved, and we might as well move to the north side of the city for the night so that we can head off early in the morning.
Leading the Blackguard through the city was the strangest thing Mal had ever experienced, as it seemed that the city held its breath as the Blackguard rode through.
Mal assumed word had gotten out to the populous as they quickly moved out of the way of the group. So as not to invoke the wrath of the Orge Slayer.
When they got to the North Gate, they stopped to look for the first symbol. Darr spotted it on the side of the archway carved about waist height was the strange symbol, and while they didn’t know what it meant, it matched the first symbol Mal had shown them.
They made camp about two miles from the North gate as the ground between the town and the campsite was sparse grazing for the horses. The night shift went quietly, and everyone was up early; the camp was stripped and stored on the back of the wagons while the cooks made the morning meal to break their fast with.
Two days later, one of the scouts rode back to say that they had found a marker stone with symbols chiselled in it; the scout had sketched the marks, and they were able to compare them to the ones that Mal had found. When it matched the second symbol, they knew that they were now trail markers and that they now knew what to look for.
Deciding not to leave the wagons behind so that they could see the markers quicker meant that Mal and Prince Salistar had to wait for two hours for them to cover the distance that a scout could cover in thirty minutes.
When they finally got to the spot with the marker, it turned out to be a small square stone no more than two-foot feet tall with two symbols carved into the rock, one facing them as they approached the other on the back of the stone.
Seeing the one that matched the symbol Mal had found was facing them, and the one on the back was the same symbol as the one etched into the sides of the gate for Kurik. Once all of the scouts had been shown the marker, they started making good headway.
Mal once more stood on the paved road with the same ghostly light covering the land; she couldn’t see the moons as the clouds covered everything, and it was raining heavily. Knowing that the sliver grey road led directly towards the safety of the mountain and that she was being hunted. She started to walk down the road towards the peak.
Eventually, she arrived at the same fork in the road again; this time, when she looked at the road that led downwards, she was able to see that the road led to a wooden bridge that crossed a ravine.
A voice boomed, “Are you ready?”
Staring at the road that led down to the bridge, she ignored it and turning uphill, she continued on. After another thirty minutes, the road led to the edge of the cliff where she could see the silver road that had led downwards. A roar directed her attention, and Mal stood in fascination as a flash storm descended down the ravine far below and wiped out the bridge.
With a shudder, Mal knew that if she had taken the lower road, she would have been on the bridge when the waters hit the bridge and destroyed it.
It was a whole week later when they reached the fork in the road from Mal’s dreams. Every night she had the same dream, and every time she got to the junction, the voice would boom out, Are you ready? Each time she would choose the less travelled route, and eventually, the road would lead back to the cliff where she could look down, and she would see the bridge or road be destroyed over and over again. Each time she woke, the dream disappeared from her memory as dreams do.
Mal sat on her horse and looked at the road they stood on; it continued down into a light wood. A lesser quality road forked off to the side, rising into the foothills.
The voice of one of the scouts talking to Prince Salistar caught her attention “The marker stone says we follow the road down into the wooded area, my Lord”.
“Fine, let us go,” he commanded.
Fear and foreboding swept over Mal as she watched Prince Salistar talking with the guard and heard his command. Looking away for a brief moment, her gaze travelled up the fork in the road; all fear and foreboding disappeared.
“No! We go this way,” said Mal turning her horse off the main road and taking the overgrown road.
Prince Salistar kicked his horse to catch up. “And can you tell me why?” He demanded in a hushed tone so as not to be overheard.
“It doesn’t feel right that way,” she said, nodding to the path she was travelling down, “This does; it feels right.”
“I disagree,” said Prince Salistar.
“You’re welcome to disagree, but this isn’t a battle issue, so it’s my decision, not yours,” she said with a tone of finality that left no room for objection.
“Yes, Mam,” he responded as he waved the rest of the guard to follow. It was half a day before they reached the curve in the road that followed the cliff edge.
Stopping to rest their horses, Mal stood her toes at the edge of the cliff. Breathing in the clear, crisp mountain air reminded her of home. Mal listened to the wind streaming through the rocks and crevices, the cry of a mountain eagle high overhead as it searched for its lunch.
The ring of the metal horseshoes striking the stone road, accompanied by the sound of the men dismounting. The scrap a boot on the leather of their saddles, The footsteps of Prince Salistar his fine boots making a different noise on the stone than the others. She listened to him move closer until he was just standing behind her.
Just as she was about to turn to him, she heard the noise of a large group moving in the distance.
Holding up a hand for silence, she stepped back from the brink; she grabbed Prince Salistar’s hand and lay down so that she could see without being seen herself.
“What are we looking for?” asked Prince Salistar.
“I heard something; scan the land below and see if you can spot anything that is out of the ordinary.”
They lay there side by side, staring over the escarpment at the land below; it must have been five minutes before they spotted a massive band of goblins and orcs slowly emerging from below the thick forest.
“Dear God, there must be five to six hundred down there; if we had taken the road, we would have been right in the middle of them they would have run just over the top of us,” exclaimed the Prince, “How did you know?”
“I don’t know, but when you said the road went downwards, I felt dread and sick in my stomach, but when I looked at this road, it disappeared.”
“If they spot us, then they are only half a day behind us; we need to make speed as we don’t know how far we still have to go to get to the dwarves,” said Prince Salistar inching back from the cliff edge,
Grabbing Mal’s hand, he helped her up. “You are as wondrous as you are beautiful, Commander.”
“Well, Battle Commander, I think this is the time for you to take control.”
Mal watched him walk over to the men and start giving commands in whispered tones so that the noise wouldn’t carry and echo far below. She stood watching for almost a minute, trying to settle her heart. When he had called her beautiful, her heart had nearly exploded; why did he have this effect on her.
She wished that she could get her father’s opinion or that of Lady Swan, the closest thing she had to a mother figure, but remembering her agreement with the Queen. She was wracked with guilt that the Queen would have in her breaking her promise to leave her son alone so that his upcoming political marriage would result in a strong country.
Here she had gone and broken that promise, remembering that night she had kissed him. Racked with guilt, she mounted up and followed Prince Salistar as he led them further up the mountain.
A mile up the road, the ground suddenly gave way, the last wagon and vast chunks of rock and dirt fell down the side of the cliff the desperate cries of the horse as the wagon, its driver and the horse tumbled to their deaths on the ground far below.
Standing at the edge of the crumbling ground, Prince Salistar could see that the goblin army below had finally noticed them as the volume of noise erupted and many of the small figures were gesturing up the side of the cliff.
“That tears it then,” he said as he mounted and headed back up the line to the front “Single file from now on, do not put too much weight on the rest of the road so that it doesn’t give way.”
As they headed off, the sound of goblin hunting horns rang out; turning to Mal, he said, “Hopefully, they will search for a way up and not find any before realising that they will have to backtrack a goodly way to be able to follow us.”
When the road came back to the edge, they slowed their movement to not dislodge more of the road into the ravine below. Seeing there was no way for the goblins to traverse the gorge due to the fast river that had cut the mountain in two many aeons ago. They knew that they would already be backtracking to find the road they had taken.
Once past areas where the road and cliff caused them to slow, they would make as much speed as the slowest wagon would allow; they had dumped half of the tents, all of the non-winter clothing and any supplies that thought they could do without. The men would sleep in three shifts giving them two scant hours of sleep each. They had kept the command tents as they were the biggest and could hold the most people; the furniture had all been dumped.
While this allowed the horses to pull the wagons easier, it was still slow going until they had taken some lengths of rope and hitched the wagons left to the knights’ horses. While the knights didn’t like that they would be sitting on a wagon, they could make the wagons move much faster and, unfortunately, bumpier.
It was early evening, but darkness came quickly in the mountains. Luckily a plateau was found where they were able to set up a limited camp.
Scouts were sent out and the perimeter guarded. Mal went back to the cliff and stood to watch back along the road, hoping to see signs of the goblins encampment. Fires started to flare up far below, and Mal realised that she was much higher than she had ever been before the nights’ temperature dropped fast, and they would need fires of their own.
Cursing that they would be like beacons to the goblins far below, she headed back to a pitch-black camp. And she shuddered at the thought of a frigid night.
As Mal approached the camp, she noticed that the command tents had been set up and several other tents strung out between hers and Prince Salistar’s. Yet more tents had been strung over the top to make one large tent that Mal was pleased to see housed all of the men bar those scouting and on perimeter duty. The last of the tents had been put up to act as windbreaks to shelter the horses from the bitter cold they would experience tonight.
When she stepped into the now large tent, she was surprised at how warm it was, then she noticed that the men were taking it in turns to stand next to the metal braziers used in Mal’s tent to keep it warm. The cook had a small fire burning in each of the metal braziers and used a metal lid to quickly cook some field biscuits.
Seeing Mal walking in, one of the guards handed Mal a fresh biscuit. “Eat it while it’s warm Commander will help to take the chill out of you.”
“My thanks, it’s going to be a cold nite I want the perimeter guards rotated every twenty minutes.”
“Yes, Commander,” said the men; two got up and bowed to her before leaving to relieve the perimeter guards.
Walking over to Prince Salistar and Chamberlain Jake Wintersong, who were busy going over a map of the area.
“Well, Battle Commander, it looks like the goblin army has camped for the night; we will need the rest period; the men are exhausted,” she said, taking a goblet of mulled wine from the Chamberlain.
“In the morning, we will have to be on the road quickly according to this old map; this road we are on leads on for many miles before the next plateau. We need to find the dwarves and get their help, or the goblins will just hunt us down,” replied Prince Salistar.
The sun rose early in the mountains, the orange glow adding warmth to everything and everyone. They tore the camp down and were on the road as quickly as possible; cold biscuits were all they had to break their fast with.
The sound of a horse approaching fast made Mal stop the column and wait for the scout to catch up. She smiled when she saw it was Darr who approached.
“The goblins are no more than two miles behind us; they are making good time, and I estimate we will be seeing them shortly, Commander,” he reported.
Looking to the Battle Commander, she simply said, “Well, Battle Commander, it looks like we haven’t got as much of a lead as we hoped. Do you think we will be able to make it to the next plateau?”
“We can but try,” he responded, taking a horn from his belt and blowing a single note to call all of the scouts back to the group as they started the slow but steady progress of climbing up the mountain.
When the first Goblin appeared on the road below, the archers made sure it couldn’t report back to the leading group, but ten minutes later, there was a blast of a horn from below that spoke volumes. The goblins had found their fallen comrade.
The race was on again, just like before when the Goblin advanced scouts spotted the Blackguard. They would blow a horn to announce that they had sight of them. It was clear that the goblins were catching them up. Even though the archers were killing them as quickly as they appeared, they had to pause for each shot. Which meant that they had to race to catch up with the leading group of the Black Guard.
“Jake, How goes the supply of arrows?” Mal asked Chamberlain Wintersong.
“We are making a goodly dent in them, Mam; fortunately, the cliff face stops them from flanking us, and each arrow spent is killing or wounding goblin scum. When we run out of them, we will fall back to swords and make the bastards pay for each step they take.” He proclaimed to the jeers of the men around him.
“We need to make better time getting to the next plateau so that we can mount a proper defence. Once the Heavy Knights get into play, we will have an easier time of it.”
It took the rest of the afternoon to get to the plateau. Once on the plateau, the knights who led had been able to rest the horses a scant five minutes while waiting for the Blackguard to arrive.
“Ok, LISTEN UP!!” Roared Prince Salistar to get the men’s attention, heavy cavalry form up behind me light calvary behind them, four abreast. Archers provide cover fire.”
That was all he was able to say before the first Goblin stumbled onto the plateau. Roaring with glee to his fellow goblins, his knees crumbled out from below him when Mal’s arrow took him in the side of the head. He was replaced with five more goblins who sprouted arrows like hedgehogs.
“Don’t let them get a beachhead!” roared Prince Salistar as he kicked his horse and galloped the few meters to the start of the road. His sword dug deep as he swung it back and forth. His war horses’ hooves kicked, and their teeth bit as it responded to its masters’ commands.
Mal and the rest of the archers covered the knights as best they could. They rode to the side of the road where goblins could climb onto the plateau, and they killed goblins by the score. Unfortunately, for everyone they killed, two seemed to take their place.
Soon they were being pushed back from the edge, and they started to be flanked. With a roar, the goblin army swept over the side of the plateau.
Their horses were getting pushed closer and closer together. Mal cursed her decision to take the high road, sure that she had just got all of her men killed.
The goblin horde surrounded the much smaller band; its leader grinned with glee at feasting on the bones of humans; they were always tasty. Unfortunately, they seemed to be holding their own against the goblins. Hating that his men were cowards by their nature, which made them hesitant at attacking the well-armed group. He started to make his way through to the front line to encourage his men and claim the choicest rewards.
The humans were putting up a good fight one was a demon with a bow that was losing arrow after arrow into the horde. Each arrow made the front line flinch back away from them, which gave the humans freedom of movement. He needed to squeeze them together so that they wouldn’t be able to swing those deadly swords.
“For the Clan!!!” he roared. Bolstering the hearts of his men, they pressed forward, starting to crush the puny humans into a tight ball where they would be slaughtered and fill their bellies.
He grinned as he heard his clansmen blowing horns behind him. He started to froth at the mouth as he went into a berserker rage. The last coherent thought he had was, ‘That human bitch that was putting arrow after arrow into his clan was the Orge Slayer, and she would taste good.’
With a final act of defiance before the berserker rage took over, he screamed and gestured in her direction with his club. He smiled as she locked eyes with him, and then he was lost to the rage and started cutting his way to her.
Mal was busy shooting arrows at every Goblin that came with her line of sight. They were surrounded, and her only thought was that her men and Prince Salistar would die today; at least she would die with them.
An incompressible guttural roar showed her a goblin that didn’t show the same fear he was gesturing to her and started to cut his fellow goblins down to get to her. Realising that she was out of arrows, anger flared in her heart. ‘How dare these bastards try to kill her and her friends.’
Before she realised it, she was jumping from the back of her horse over the heads of two startled goblins as she landed in the middle of them. Her sword started to dance almost by itself; she wove her way towards the leader, frothing at its mouth like a rabid dog.
Mal felt like she was dancing through the goblins; she sidestepped each strike and blow. She could hear her men screaming behind her. The music flowed like a pulse, and Mal danced a merry death. Goblin, after Goblin died in front of her, she cut her way through them to the leader.
Mal men watched in horror as she kept from her saddle into the goblins and started slaying them. Roaring a challenge, they spurred their mounts into the goblins, using the strong muscles of the horses to push the goblins back. No matter how much they tried to move forward to reach her, she was getting further away from them. Horns started to blow around them the goblins roared and pressed in.
Prince Salistar, whose back was to Mal, was oblivious that Mal’s plight was hard-pressed by the goblins in front of him. The cut on his sideburned hot and fierce, threatening to overwhelm him as much as the goblins. He knew that they were surrounded and expected at any minute to find a sword in his back. He dared not risk looking behind only to take a wound from the front.
A scream from the side told him another knight had taken a severe hit. The press of their horses was pinning them together. Which in and of itself was a blessing; the dead comrade protected one of his flanks, and he said a client prayer for his soul.
Suddenly he heard horns blowing and braced himself for the goblins final attack that he was sure would be near moments away.
The press of the horse to his left made him realise that the goblins weren’t pressing as hard.
“For king and country,” he roared, stabbing a goblin in the head with his sword.
More and more of the Blackguard took up the chant until it was all he could hear.
Mal fought like a demon herself dancing through the goblins and finally facing the frothing and raving goblin in front of her.
The Goblin was strong, stronger than any she had fought before. He slashed out and killed a goblin that was about to attack her. She was his prey, and he didn’t want to share. That was fine; he would find that Mal was no easy prey. She parried a blow that should have taken her head off and wondered if he had connected as the tolling of a bell rang in her ears.
Mal’s biggest problem was that every time she was about to deliver a killing blow to the Goblin, another stepped in to attack her. She was parrying three goblins; one died at her hand and the other by the insane goblin leader. Soon the other goblins learnt to keep their distance as they pressed on to the pack of humans that bled and died not far away. The sweet-salty smell of their blood was on the air, and more goblins started to froth at the anticipation of the juicy meat.
Suddenly the right flank of the goblins caved in, and the knights led the Blackguard out looking down; they could see small men engaged with the goblins and decimating the right flank of the goblin army. It was then that Prince Salistar finally had time to take stock of the situation and access that battle.
“Protect the dwarves!!!” He roared and re-engaged the goblin army. The battle was fierce, and as he drove forward, he eventually saw Mal standing alone in the middle of the battlefield, being attacked by goblins trying to overwhelm her.
Closer and closer, Prince Salistar fought to her side with shouts “Mal!” and “The Black Guard!” he drove his horse into the fight, its training making it obey where other horses would have shied away. Its metal hooves tore and trampled the goblins as it fought its way forward.
Mal finally dispatched the Goblin leader with a parry and back slice that cut its throat. Its blood exploded as the tip of her sword nicked a major artery.
The goblins surrounding her flinched at the devastation she had caused when she landed in the middle of them. The death of the leader who’s bravo had leant them courage sapped it back out of them. They started to flee first, one then more and more any that got too close to the Orge Slayers deadly blade died.
That was when Mal realised that an army of Dwarves stood before her. They watched her in silence as Prince Salistar rode slowly across the battlefield strewn with bodies. He had to walk the last few steps. To Mal’s side, her body was starting to shake as the adrenaline began to wear off.
Picking her up, he was surprised at how light she was as he always thought of her as a giant. Crossing to his horse, he gently put her on the saddle and led her to what was left of the men.