The news was surprisingly well received.
Snolt grinned widely. “You’ve led us on a grand raid, my liege. If there hasn’t been as much plunder as before, at the very least you’ve been keeping us alive, and driving the Knights away from our borders. At this rate, those carts won’t get near Greymouth for another week or more!”
Matt nodded. He didn’t know if that would be long enough to break up the siege, but at the very least it would keep things from going too badly before winter set in. “The question now is going to be how we return home. Obviously, we aren’t going to be able to get through Greymouth.”
One of the bannermen chuckled. “Aye, sire, but they won’t be going that way either, will they?”
He smirked a little. “True. Which begs the question of how we get home. We can run back north, past Echo Pass, but I worry that the garrison at Eagleton might be out hunting us by now. They’ve got to know that we have no intention of striking there. Our other options might be to ride south, past Rideston’s Gap, but there—”
“Why not?”
The question brought Matt to a stop. He looked over at the Goblin bannerman—Dvel, he thought the name was—who seemed to be so absorbed in the map that he didn’t realize he’d spoken. Matt waited for a moment and then responded. “What do you mean?”
Dvel looked up in surprise and then flushed a reddish orange. “Your pardon, my liege, I didn’t mean to—”
Matt waved the apology aside. “Never mind that, Dvel. Just tell me what you are thinking.”
The Goblin paused, looking at Snolt for confirmation. His Captain merely grinned and gestured to the map, as if to say that the bannerman could get himself out of the hole on his own. Dvel sighed. “I was just thinking, why don’t we go after Eagleton? They’ve got some of their forces out hunting us, right? It has to be a good number of their troops, otherwise they wouldn’t expect to be able to kill us or stop our raids. How much will they have left to guard the fort?”
It was a good question. Matt looked down at the map, thinking hard. The last information he’d had—taken from a surrendered officer on a caravan they’d burned five days ago—had claimed that Eagleton had nearly five banners of troops to call on. If that was true, then they could hold out against anything that he could hit them with. Worse, if they had enough cavalry, they could chase him down and destroy the First completely after the attack failed.
How much would still be at the fort, though? They would have held their position the first few days, worried about being drawn out and destroyed. Then, as the reports of burning villages and ambushed supply carts came in, they would have started to worry about something else entirely. He pictured their commanders debating the problem, arguing as more and more reports of destroyed convoys trickled in, until finally, their troops marched out to hunt down the invaders. The ones left behind would be the ones who had lost the argument, the ones who hadn’t wanted to fight.
Matt tapped the symbol on the map that represented the fort. It was barely a day’s ride away, though he had no doubt the journey would take longer with the need to remain concealed. “You’re right. We go there immediately.”
Two days later, as the nightbirds chirped and bats struck insects from the air, Matt stared across the gap between the trees and the fort of Eagleton.
It was a simple structure, one that wouldn’t have impressed anyone with any concept of skyscrapers or stadiums. The Knights had built it in the motte and bailey style, with a palisade of logs surrounding a small town, and a wooden tower to make up the keep. He could make out the gates, and to his shock, they stood open. Farmer’s carts had apparently been going in and out of them hours before, when the sun was setting. A pair of sentries were standing in the open entrance, but one of them was leaning up against a side of the gate and seemed to be sleeping. The other paid more attention to the distant light of the campfires inside than he did the surrounding forest.
Not that Matt could really blame them. The First had needed to dodge several banners of searching Knights on their way back north. He had eventually resorted to moving at night to avoid notice, relying on the superior eyesight and agility of the Wargs to see the banner through. Fortunately, the Knights’ scouts had failed to locate him and his men, and now they were finally right where they meant to be.
Dvel, the bannerman that had suggested the plan in the first place, came creeping through the underbrush towards him. Matt nodded to him, and the Goblin spoke in a low voice. “Captain Snolt says that his men are already at the north wall. They can be over it in a minute or two.”
Matt grunted. There had always been a risk that the Knights would hole up in the keep, but if Snolt’s men could move fast enough, it would be over before the defenders had the chance. “Tell him to get moving. I’m going to lead the charge in the next hour.”
The bannerman nodded and then disappeared back into the night. Matt suppressed a shiver. The Goblins apparently had fairly good night vision themselves, though they hadn’t made it too obvious. At least, they hadn’t snickered too loudly during all the times when their supposed king had nearly tripped over his own feet in the dark. At least Nelson appeared to be more surefooted, though the warbuck hadn’t been any happier about the nighttime rides.
Matt remained where he was for another few minutes, counting the seconds as best he could. Not for the first time, he wished he had the phone he’d left back at home. He was about six or seven generations removed from having the skills to tell time by the stars, and in any case, the moon and stars were all wrong here. The way they tracked across the night sky was odd, and he was still a long way from recognizing any of the local constellations.
All the same, he figured that enough time had passed. He fumbled his way over to Nelson and then swung himself up into the saddle. Around him in the forest, about half the Royal First joined him, pulling themselves onto their Wargs and readying their blades. None of them spoke or drew their weapons; all of them knew that the slightest whisper or flash of steel might close the gates ahead of them before they could reach them.
Matt fixed his gaze on that entrance. The guards were still lounging without any sign of alarm. It wouldn’t be a patient trot before a charge this time. Nelson and the Wargs didn’t need to have the energy for the shock of the battleline. They just needed to reach the gate while it was open, and then carry their riders into the town beyond.
He hefted his mace and then gestured with it. In case the rest of the banner missed the signal, he started forward, letting Nelson pick his way out of the undergrowth and into the open. All around him, he heard the Wargs move through the brush, their paws swishing through the brush and snapping sticks underfoot. Matt winced, but he knew that stealth wasn’t going to matter for very much longer.
The moment he was clear of the woods, he spurred Nelson into a gallop. His mount snorted and tossed his head in protest, but Nelson obeyed, and his thick hooves began pounding across the open ground. Still silent, the Wargs streamed across that same ground on all sides, closing in on the gates like a wolf pack chasing a wounded deer.
Ahead of them, the guards suddenly seemed to come awake. Shock froze them for a moment—one of them actually dropped his spear, before frantically trying to fumble it back into his hands. Then they were shouting, with one running back into the fort and the other lurching up, his recovered weapon pointed aimlessly into the dark.
Matt let Nelson body check the guard, sending the Knight flying. Their magically reinforced body didn’t seem to fare any better than a Frost Elf would have, though Matt could hardly blame them. He certainly wouldn’t have survived a hit like that. The other guard made it a few paces more before a Warg pinned him to the ground. By the time the fort had started to come alive, the banner was already inside, and herding them back towards the keep.
Some of them might have hoped for salvation there, but as torches sprang to life around the fort, the light revealed that it was already too late. Captain Snolt and his infiltrators waved at them from the keep’s wide-open gates, and dozens of Knights in their shirtsleeves were being escorted out at sword and knifepoint. As quickly as the alarm had been raised, it quieted, with the last few holdouts being surrounded and forced to yield.
Matt trotted Nelson up to where Snolt was standing. “Well done, Captain! Did you run into any trouble?”
“Not at all, sire.” Snolt gestured to the surrendered Knights. “They only left half a banner of men here to watch the fort while the rest chased after us. The other half of them are actually out patrolling the forest right now; we probably crept right past them on the way in.”
The scouts had reported a smaller camp a few leagues back. Matt nodded, another plan already forming. “Disarm them all and take charge of their mounts. Anyone here is now our prisoner, and will remain so for a time.”
Snolt raised his eyebrows. “No parole this time, sire?”
“This time, no.” Matt gave him a grin. “This time, we’ll need the help to bring things back home. Loot everything that isn’t nailed down, and take every animal, weapon, and piece of supplies you can. When we burn this place, let’s leave it empty.”
The First cheered again, this time a brutal roar that made their new prisoners flinch. They fell to tearing through the fort, looking for every scrap of treasure they could find. Matt watched them for a long moment, before turning back to Snolt, who had remained at his side. “It looks like this will be the end to our campaign. Do you feel we did enough, Captain?”
“If we didn’t, I don’t know how any being could do more, sire.” The captain looked around. “Capturing, looting, and burning a fort to the ground might make a fitting end to things, though. I’d say I would be content.”
“Well, I’m not.” Matt grinned a little. “I guess I want just a little more out of our little adventure here.” He watched the looting progress, and then nodded. “Once they get everything loaded up, I want the best two-thirds of the banner to form up and ride with me. The third that’s left can stay with the prisoners and keep them honest. We have one more bit of business to take care of before we ride west.”
Smoke rose over Eagleton as dawn arrived.
The fort was burning. Matt had ordered it to be turned into a pyre for the ambitions of the Order of Griffons, and the Royal First had worked hard to make that a reality. He didn’t know if the Knights would take the time and effort to rebuild the place, but he definitely wasn’t planning on leaving them much to work with. With the fires lit, the prisoners and the part of the banner he’d left behind would start moving west through the forest, staying well off the main road.
Matt, on the other hand, was crouched in the same forest on one side of that road, with the rest of the banner. He’d convinced Snolt to stay with the prisoners, despite the man’s grumbling. The Goblin captain was a reliable officer, and Matt knew he would need someone to keep the train of captives moving west at a decent pace. They had gone to too much trouble to capture that group of Knights for a bunch of overeager Warg riders to just end up feeding the lot of them to their mounts.
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He heard hooves pounding on the road and looked around at his men. They tensed up, and he waved them back. The last thing he wanted was for someone to charge early. Surprise was going to be key.
Not that it looked like he was going to have to work very hard to avoid the enemy’s attention. As the Knights galloped into view, it was clear that their commander only had eyes for the smoke rising from Eagleton. Any competent leader should have been keeping the warbucks to a trot, not letting them race full out, but the half banner of cavalry was running down the road at full speed back towards their home. Matt thought he could see lather and steam from the heavily armored mounts rising into the cool fall morning. Even if they would have reached the fort in time, they would have likely been too tired to do much of anything.
Not that he intended to give them anything close to that chance.
He waited until they were nearly even with his men on the road, and then he waved to the trumpeter. The Goblin played three quick blasts, and Matt led the Warg riders as they charged straight into the enemy ranks.
His troops caught the Knights completely by surprise. Strung out into a long column on the road, with mounts already strained and worn down with fatigue, they were slow to respond to the ambush. Some of them barely drew their weapons before the First was on them, curved swords hacking and slashing.
Matt led Nelson right up alongside a Knight, letting the warbuck go all out. He came in along the Knight’s left flank, his mace already raised. Despite the noise around him, he could hear the Knight make a surprised yelp, and frantically raise a shield strapped to his arm. When he brought the mace down, it smashed into the shield with all the force that Matt could muster.
It then bounced off, and a flicker of magic running along the Knight’s arms betrayed why. Matt grunted in shock; it was the first time he’d ever gotten close enough to see the self-enhancements the Knights used firsthand. How did his Goblins overwhelm the rest of them so quickly?
He recovered from his initial swing as the Knight lashed out at him with a short sword. The blade was lethally sharp, but Matt managed to lean away as it cut the air near his head. He responded with another direct attack, this time aiming for the Knight’s leg, only for the shield to get in the way again. He heard the knight shout in victory as he raised his short sword high, ready to plunge it down with inhuman speed.
That moment was when Nelson took matters into his own hands. The warbuck lurched to the side, smashing into the Knight’s mount with crushing force. Nelson’s shoulder caught the other warbuck just ahead of its ribs, and the Knight’s steed faltered, its steps going a little off kilter from the shock. At the speed they were traveling, it was a fatal misstep; the warbuck’s hoof caught on some near-invisible dip in the road, and suddenly the Knight and his mount were gone, tumbling in Nelson’s wake with a terrible, rolling crash. Matt glanced backward to see another Knight try to leap over the fallen warbuck, only for his own steed to get tangled up in the living wreckage; both enemies went down in the dust of the road.
Matt suppressed a shudder and turned his attention back to the front. He saw Wargs leaping on warbucks, and Goblins cutting down Knights as they ran. The Knights closer to the front had to choose between maintaining their forward momentum, or wheeling about to try to face the enemies coming at them from behind and to the side. Those who chose to ride harder would be difficult to catch—at least until their poor mounts were falling over from exhaustion—but those who tried to turn back made themselves instant targets for the pursuing Wargs. As he watched, the captain of the banner tried to turn, to face her fate instead of being chased down like a dog. A Warg hit her steed like a wrecking ball made of claws and teeth, and the captain went down immediately.
The battle all but over, Matt let Nelson’s speed slack a little. There was no point in running the warbuck ragged, not when there were only a handful of Knights left running, and all of them were being pursued by Wargs with fangs bared and their Goblin riders slashing the air with their swords. He looked around, seeing more Knights surrendering or being brought down. A decent end to a hard-fought campaign.
After the surrender of the survivors of the banner, Matt immediately turned his banner west.
There was the temptation to stay, to continue the raids in the Knights’ territory, but Matt knew it was a mistake. He’d already caused enough chaos, and the forces of the enemy were already closing in around him and his men, like the jaws of a bear trap. Better to pull back and leave the Knights in confusion than to give them the satisfaction of driving him off.
The trail of prisoners following after him only complicated matters, of course. None of the Knights were excited about marching into captivity—understandable, from his point of view—and their reluctant cooperation definitely slowed his people. It didn’t help that many of the First were riding with wounds that were still healing, or that they carried whatever loot that they had found in the ruins of Eagleton.
Still, despite those problems, the First made good time heading for the safety of Echo Pass. The remaining scouts reported that the old watchpost had been abandoned, the Knights inside either joining the hunt for his men or fleeing the place once they realized they were isolated and alone. Matt ordered one last fire set, and then they were climbing into the mountain passes once more.
Echo Pass was just as unpleasant as it had been the first time, with the cluttered, boulder strewn passage causing nearly as many delays as the increasingly biting cold. Overhead, the sky began to be covered in clouds, threatening to hit them with a chilling rain, or worse, an early snow. He watched those clouds with concern every single day they wandered through the pass, hoping it would hold off just long enough. It was a relief when they reached the far side of the mountains, three days after Eagleton had burned.
The High Imp watchpost on the western side of the pass was waiting anxiously for him, and Matt could see a messenger riding out toward Redspire the moment the First came into view. He sighed wearily, and glanced back at his ragged, war-torn, and yet victorious column. Going from a warfront to a political mess was not the most encouraging change, but at the very least he would not be quite as likely to get killed.
At least, that was what he hoped.
“It is good to see you, sire! We had worried about your safety while you were in enemy territory.”
The watchpost commander seemed sincere, but Matt was very well aware that the Imp had probably been expecting to not see the First ever again. At least, he probably hadn’t thought that so much of the First would return, if any at all. He ignored the implicit criticism of his strategy and tried to keep his attention focused.
“Our campaign across the mountains is over. Our job there is done.” Matt glanced outside the watchpost, where the First was bunking down for the night, along with all of their captives. The implied justification of his strategy was probably obvious. “What news do you have of the rest of the Kingdom?”
The Imp’s expression grew uncertain. “We’ve heard of the events that occurred in Redspire. To know that Lord Tek could even contemplate such treachery…”
“He was captured, then?” Matt had hoped that his troops could capture the old schemer, but it was never a guarantee. All he’d really wanted was for Tek to be forced to either go on the run or die in a frantic last stand of some kind. Redspire itself would probably have suffered, but it was better to get rid of a traitor than to let them sit and fester right inside the capital.
“Lord Tek has been arrested, yes. Under accusation of treachery.” The watchpost commander swallowed uneasily, and Matt wondered if he was some distant relation of the traitor. “The banners that were with him were mostly sent home, but one of them proclaimed their loyalty to you, sire, and has remained camped outside the city, awaiting your return.”
“Is that so?” An interesting development; perhaps Tek hadn’t commanded as much loyalty among his own people as Matt had expected. If that was the case, it was welcome news. The last thing he needed was a third rebellion, even if that was better than two rebellions and a conspiracy. “What about Greymouth? Has there been any news there?”
“Yes, sire!” The Imp was clearly relieved to move on from talking about Tek. “Captain Morteth has reported that the siege has been broken! Greymouth is free!”
Matt blinked. Yet more good news he hadn’t expected. “Broken? The enemy did not just withdraw?”
The Imp shook his head. “No, sire. Though many of them appear to have fled before our valiant defenders sallied out to confront them.” He lowered his voice slightly. “It appeared that they were having trouble finding supplies. There were reports they were even fighting amongst each other in their own camp! But all the same, Captain Morteth drove them off, and does not expect them to return anytime soon.”
“Excellent.” Matt felt a brief moment of disquiet. If Morteth became popular enough, he might be a possible threat in the future. Had he managed to rid himself of Tek only to set up a replacement usurper? “What of the other wars? Is there any news from the Small Heights? Or the Grim Hollows?”
“I have not heard anything of those battlefields, sire.” The Imp shifted uncomfortably. “Will you be riding for Redspire? I am certain you will find more news there.”
Matt paused for a moment, fighting the urge to ignore the question. He didn’t need to keep all of his plans a secret, after all. “Yes. The First will return with me to Redspire, and we’ll prepare ourselves for the next campaign.” He glanced back towards Echo Pass. If he never saw that miserable trail again, it would be fine by him. “Be careful. There might be enemy forces willing to brave the pass. If they come, either send a message to Greymouth, or to Redspire. Don’t let yourself be caught unawares.”
The Imp bowed. “As ordered, sire.” Matt strode away, leaving the Imp to go about his business. It was time to return home and figure out what he could do next. Outside, the rain finally began to fall, pattering through the trees. He hoped that was not the bad omen it seemed to be.
The road back to Redspire was not nearly as dramatic as the road out had been.
Of course, the First were in high spirits now, riding comfortably along their own road and heavily laden with both loot and prisoners. They didn’t quite break out into song like the infantry had when they’d left Redspire, but there were plenty of jokes and taunts traded between the Goblins. The Knights, by contrast, only seemed to grow grimmer and more oppressed as they walked or rode, obviously seeing themselves as future serfs. Matt couldn’t predict if they were going to be any happier when they realized that their future was probably more likely in a cell rather than in the fields. Time would tell.
The rain didn’t seem to affect their spirits either, though it continued and even worsened as the First rode south and west. It was foul luck, all the same, turning the dirt road to churned mud that clung to hoof and paw. Matt grimaced each time that Nelson struggled to pull a hoof free. Bedding down for each night wasn’t much better; finding something high and out of the damp was nearly impossible, especially since their bedrolls and ground cloths were already soaked from the rain. At least they weren’t being chased. Hopefully.
All told, it took nearly three days to make their way back to the capital, their sodden banner held high and their mounts stained with mud. The First raised a stubborn cheer as the walls of the city came into view, and Matt couldn’t help grinning himself. It didn’t look like Tek had set half the city on fire, which was a fairly good sign. The gates were open too, which told him that whoever had replaced the treacherous little snake hadn’t immediately decided to turn on him as well. He noticed that there were sentries on the walls, and that there was some kind of commotion as soon as the First became visible. Clearly, they’d already been expecting him.
Sure enough, a small Warg with a Goblin messenger on its back came sprinting out from the city gate. The mud didn’t seem to matter to the beast as it raced along, tongue hanging half out of its mouth. Matt let the First continue forward, though he was tempted to call for a halt. He didn’t want to ride directly into an ambush inside the walls, of course.
The messenger made straight for the banner, drawing up to lope alongside the bearer for a moment. Matt could see the Goblin’s head pivoting around, as if searching for him. He resisted the urge to wave to them, forced to sacrifice his impatience in order to preserve a more regal aspect. It was another effort not to sigh in relief as the Goblin saw him and rushed over to his side.
“King Matthew! The Grand Council bids you welcome back to Redspire. They are grateful to know that you remain well.”
It took Matt a moment to realize what the messenger had said. He glanced at Snolt, and then nodded. “I’m glad to hear that the Grand Council has reconvened. Have they been meeting in the city?”
“They have, sire. They are currently using a room in the palace, though they have some interest in the construction that you have planned.” The messenger paused, looking around at the mud-spattered Knights, Goblins, Wargs, and warbucks around him. “I believe they have been waiting for your arrival to truly begin their business. I am sure that they would appreciate an update on the war to the east.”
“I imagine so.” Matt gave him a small smile. “Inform the Council that I will attend their next meeting. For now, I must see to my men and take care of the prisoners we’ve taken. You’re dismissed.”
The messenger made a short bow from his saddle and then turned his Warg to head back to the city. Matt waited until the Goblin was a good distance away before he turned to Snolt. “Captain, try to see if we can get everyone cleaned up. The Royal First is going to have a triumphant return to Redspire, and I want us to look our best. Within reason, of course.”
Snolt grinned. “Of course, my liege. We’ll see if we can get some of the mud cleaned off.”
The Goblin turned to shout orders, and Matt looked back at the city. He could see more people on the walls now, and there seemed to be a crowd forming inside the gate as well. None of them looked like they were armed. In fact, unless he was completely misjudging things, they looked like excited civilians. Perhaps things weren’t going as badly as he had expected, here.
There was only one way to find out.