Malik's Cross
The tip of Lord Malik’s sword slid into the throat of the nearest goblin, its dark eyes widening in surprise as it lost control of its bodily functions, the ugly red scar across its face fading to white as the blood gushed out of a throat cut almost in two. With blood spraying over his steel breast plate he quickly spun to face a strike from the left from another goblin of the swarming mass of destruction before him, he parried the strike and countered with a lightning fast slice across the attackers arm causing the goblin to both drop his sword and stumble, eventually disappearing into the mass of goblin bodies as if swallowed by a great wild beast too large to comprehend.
Looking up for a brief moment he could see the royal standard only twenty paces to the left. They had ran into a band of goblins, a horde would have been a better description, by the great maker there must have been a thousand of the green bastards. With two to one odds against the kingdom force and almost a fifth of the kingdom force being women and children. The only thing that saved them was that the goblins didn’t fight as a coherent group.
The more disciplined kingdom troops had held their ground as the monstrous wave of goblins had attacked. Threatening to overwhelm the smaller kingdom force. Slowly the tide had turned and the press of the attacking horde had slackened.
Surveying the battle in a matter of seconds, Lord Malik noticed that the bulk of the goblin horde was now pressing towards his house standard. His father the King, and the captain of the guard we’re getting heavily pressed. Almost as if they were the main targets.
“To House Malik, he roared over the screams and noise of the battle.” Cutting down a goblin with a casual flick of his sword. The men closer to him took up the chant. As he gradually made his way over to his father the arrival of the men with him added support to the defenders around his father.
Seeing that the dead numbered ten goblin for each kingdom soldier, Lord Malik turned to his father, King and commander, ”Father, the tide is turning in our favour. Should we press the advantage?” he enquired over the din of the battle.
“No my son, by-in large they are a cowardly creature, soon they will break, no need to follow,” replied his father. As if speaking the word made it happen the horde broke and ran for the thick forest.
Looking round the wounded his eyes eventually landing on the lifeless body of Gregory the house page. Who only this morning had delivered a note from the chamberlain that his wife had delivered a healthily son. “By the Great Maker, how fickel live is, here lies one boy unbreathing and his son an heir safely tucked up at home, what future awaits me and my kin,” he thought bitterly.
No more would Gregory’s laugher be heard in the dining hall at the stories of the minstrels, with a heavy heart Lord Malik, knelt beside the lifeless body of his page, slowly he straighten his clothes and hair, “Ah, by the Great Maker, I do not look forward to telling his mother,” his thoughts turning to Gregory’s aging grandmother the Lady Sofia the last of her line now dead with Gregorys’ passing. His father would have to take the lands and title and assign them to someone else. Two bitter pills for the Lady Sofia to swallow.
Standing he looked up into the eyes of Fredrick Mountbatten, his other page and best friend of Gregory. No more would these two get in trouble together, Seeing the sadness welling up in his eyes, Lord Malik stepped forward putting his hand on Fredricks shoulder, “Do not weep for him now, there is plenty of time to mourn our fallen, now we must see to the fallen we can save. Then we will bury our fallen brothers and friends.”
Fredricks’ fingers tighten on the hilt of the sword until they turned white from the grip. “I will hunt down and kill every last goblin!” spittle flying from his lips as his hatred painted across his face as much as across his words.
A slap shook Fredrick to the core, he looked up into the eyes of Lord Malik in shock.
“No, young Fredrick, as your lord I command you to not set this in your heart, Yes you will probably kill every goblin you come across but out of necessity of self preservation for you and your loved ones. Do not darken your heart, instead enjoy life and live a live enough for you and your friend. The Great Maker, teaches that all creatures are created equally, Thousands of years ago the nine races lived in harmony, before the breaking of the dark ones seal. You should pity them rather than hate,” his soft voice speaking volumes as he wrapped his arms around the young page.
A soft cough broke thier embrace, “Lord Malik, we have twelve dead and fifteen injured, two of which might not survive,” spoke the solider his blood splattered leather plate armour showing plenty of damage from the battle.
They buried thier dead in a grave by the foot of a cherry tree, its flowers gently cascading down on the bodies, as if to place a shroud over thier faces. Thirteen dead and Geogory’s body placed in the middle of the dead as a show of respect, he had died saving the king from an attack, Loyal to the end.
Slowly with reverend care they covered the bodies with first soil and then stone that they gathered from a near by creak. Before heading on towards the safety of the city three days hence.