When attacking in numbers, goblins have an unusual but surprisingly effective fighting technique. Sure, they use their knives and arrow-spears as well as they’re able, but as I’ve hinted before they’re not hugely strong and any half-decent armor ought to repel all but the most unfortunate of attacks. But they also cling on to anything they can reach.

Wishing for a broadsword, I slashed with my less-useful knives and kicked as often and as hard as I could, at the same time as avoiding their knives and spear-thrusts as much as possible. Goblins lost limbs, collapsed bleeding or went flying, and I punctuated each success with a bellowed “Ha!” or “Take that!” or a curse.

That part was quite gratifying. But some of their attacks also got through. I picked up cuts on my hands and legs, one of the arrow-spears nicked my ear (and that really stung!) and I don’t know how many knives were turned by my armor.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the worst. In moments, goblins started grabbing hold of my legs with their hands, feet, teeth and anything else, and I could no longer effectively kick. Others climbed up and latched onto my back and my arms.

Not fun, I thought, as it became increasingly difficult to move.

But I wasn’t done yet. “Get off!” I bellowed through gritted teeth, and crushed those I could crush against the boulder behind me. Sheathing my knives in two goblins (they shrieked pleasingly as I did), I let go of the hilts and used my hands.

I fought like I’d seldom had to fight before, plucking goblins from me, hurling them into their brothers, punching sharp, pointy faces when I could and slamming them bodily into the boulder whenever I was able, all the while shouting, “Ha!” “And you!” “See what I did to your friend?” and “You’re next!”

At some point I remembered my tail (I spend so much of my time pretending it doesn’t exist that I sometimes forget about it), and started using it as a club, smashing as many goblins with it as I could.

They kept coming, jabbering viciously, yelling their goblin war-cries and squealing in pain. I started laughing, knowing I couldn’t survive without some sort of miracle, but determined to last as long as I could and to take as many of them with me as possible.

When this was over, they would know that they’d been in a fight.

The boulder behind me turned green with their blood. A pile of mangled bodies grew all around me. My arms, as well as turning the same green as the boulder, grew heavy and slippery with goblin intestines in a way that would have been disgusting if I had a moment to consider it.

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And still they kept coming! I don’t know how many I killed or disabled. Maybe forty or more? But they didn’t seem to care. They seemed interested only in continuing the fight until either they were all dead or I was. And despite my success, their numbers appeared undiminished.

Could I keep this up? I wondered. Was it possible?

Then, without understanding how I got there, I was lying on the ground with goblins jumping on top of me. It was a dangerous place to be, because from that vantage the goblins would be able to use their arrow-spears more effectively. I didn’t want to give them that chance. My curses turned into an inarticulate growl and I rolled left and right, unbalancing those on top of me and squashing several.

More climbed on top. I felt my armor absorbing blow after blow from both knife and arrow-spear. I tried rolling again, but there were too many for that so I resorted to punching and kicking, flinging those I could grab into others and using my tail wherever possible.

Oddly, as a goblin stood on my chest and aimed its arrow-spear at my face, I thought of Max and hoped he’d made good his escape. Then I wondered if that miracle I needed would ever happen….

Right on cue, I heard a muffled explosion. I didn’t know what it meant and it didn’t have any direct impact on my situation, but at least it motivated me to survive a little longer. I twitched my head to the side as the arrow-spear dug into the dirt by my ear. I wrenched myself about as hard as I could, managing to shake a few off, and felt a surprising pain as one of them bit me hard near the tip of my tail.

“Ow!” I shouted.

The disrespect made me angry. Imagine biting somebody’s tail! That’s just rude. So I head-butted a goblin that had gotten too close, got my hand around the throat of another and squeezed, and flailed about a bit with my legs and tail.

Another explosion, this one not so muffled.

This time, it was enough to make the goblins pause. I surged up to a sitting position, sending several of them flying. That got their attention and they turned back to me. But before they could do anything more, a third explosion shattered the air, this one much closer.

It took the fight out of them. They scattered, leaving only their dead and dying behind.

Amazingly, I was alive. But I wasn’t altogether healthy. I hurt even more than I had before and I wasn’t thinking entirely straight, although that might have been no more than a reaction to the surprise of still being alive. I started to check myself over, then realized a better idea might be to figure out who had saved me.

I looked around and received another major shock. A horse stood not far away. A proper-sized one too, not like the poor pony that I’d abandoned to the goblins.

A woman sat on the horse’s back. She was tall, very well put together and dressed like a harlot. Her hair was bright red and I instantly knew who she was.

Gabriella.

She slid gracefully from the saddle and headed my way. Despite my injuries, I felt my grin return.

“That was quite an entrance,” I started to say, but the expression on her face wasn’t friendly.

“Nobody gets to kill you but me!” she said. She swung a cosh I hadn’t noticed her carrying, and all of a sudden there were stars everywhere.