The first goblin that reached the corridor fell to Bordan’s spear without ever getting close. Then, the monsters were upon them. Like the other hunting party they had met, these ones were mostly armed with spears, clubs and other wooden implements crudely carved from sticks. Edwin couldn’t quite tell how many of them there were, but at a glance he estimated around two dozen.

He held his shield low, pummeling the charging goblins with savage overhead strikes. The corridor was wide enough for him and Bordan to fight next to each other, but not wide enough that he could wind up his strikes from the side. Thankfully, Pioneer ruins usually had very high ceilings.

The goblins were funneled into the tighter space of the corridor, with the ones in the back pushing the ones in front to reach their foes more quickly. As the first ones died, the ones that followed had to step over their corpses, the tangled limbs a navigational hazard that slowed them down or even caused them to stumble and fall. Without that, the defending humans might have been overwhelmed within seconds.

Edwin’s mace raised and lowered mechanically like a blacksmith’s hammer, cracking bones wherever it fell. He grunted as sharp claws dug into his calf and he had to interrupt his rhythm to kick off the goblin that had crawled along the wall to sneak past his shield.

Behind him, a crossbow went off.

“Goblins behind!” Leodin shouted over the screaming hordes. Edwin cursed under his breath but continued fighting.

His mace crushed a green skull, throwing the corpse to the ground. Two more creatures jumped over their fallen companion, too close for him to target them without falling back. Instead, he stepped forwards and swept out with his shield. The attacking goblins were thrown backwards, flying into the crowd behind them, when a spear flashed out from the mass of goblins. Edwin’s gambeson prevented it from running him straight through, but it still left a bloody wound in his gut.

Again, the crossbow twanged.

“Need help!” Leodin shouted, only stress, not fear, in his voice.

In the same moment, Edwin spotted something moving in the back of the room. The far wall was broken by several open doorways, and out of one of them stalked a familiar figure.

“Hobgoblin!” Edwin yelled.

“Salissa!” Bordan shouted. “Use fire to make some space. I’ll help hold the back. Hob is yours, Edwin.”

Before their leader had finished speaking, Edwin felt Salissa grab his shoulder and squeeze between Bordan and him. As they had learned early on, if she wanted to convert fire without burning their frontline, she needed to get her hand in front of them.

The cave was barely lit by the magical lights each of them carried. The metal weapons weren’t ideal for holding mana, and Salissa had kept the brightness low on purpose to allow for a degree of stealth.

Not that that had worked out.

“Close your eyes!” She shouted, and Edwin followed her instruction just in time. The fire sprang to life right in front of his face, the white flame uncomfortably bright even through his eyelids.

The goblins screamed as Salissa walked the flame from left to right. A sharp pain erupted from Edwin’s side, and he looked down and opened his eyes just a little. The brightness was already dying down as Salissa’s flame changed color, and squinting, Edwin spotted the little bugger that had been too close and too far to the side to be caught by the fire. It had squeezed past his shield and showed its dagger into his flank twice, pulling it back to bury it a third time.

Edwin smashed his elbow against its head, bouncing the ugly, flappy-eared green orb off the stone wall. Dazed from the impact, the goblin stumbled – until a fast-moving piece of steel set on a wooden stick finished the job.

Bordan had moved to the back to help their marksman, and Edwin regarded the battlefield in front of him. The first few ranks of the goblins – he swore there had been fewer of them when they started – were dead or dying, rolling on the ground to smother their burning limbs or staggering back with pained wails. The rest were rubbing their eyes, blinded from the unexpected brightness, none of the creatures seeming interested in attacking them.

Except for the hobgoblin, of course. Unimpressed by the magical attack, the monster was still running towards him, roaring a challenge to rouse its smaller cousins. In its hands, it held a strange weapon.

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At first Edwin thought it was a gnarled stick, but as the hob took another step and the object in its hands turned, he noticed how the twisting, root-like strands formed a wicked blade at the top, the unreflective material a dull black and green with small glints of silver in the bluish light.

His eyes narrowed as a long unused part of his memory recognized the craftsmanship, but the blossoming worry changed nothing. The only option he had was to attack. The path in front of him was clear of enemies, so he hefted his weapon and charged the oncoming foe.

After only a few steps he had to abort his charge as the hobgoblin swung out his glaive, the length of the weapon combined with the monster’s long arms affording it a an almost laughable amount of reach. Edwin stopped and staggered back, one of his boots almost slipping on the bloody stone floor. He just managed to catch himself, and the blade whistled past his chest ineffectually.

The hobgoblin flinched as one of Salissa’s arrows sprouted from its chest. For a moment Edwin had hope, but the creature simply ignored the hit and continued coming. Unless she hit something vital or was allowed to continue shooting for much longer than they had, she wouldn’t be able to bring it down.

Frustrated, Edwin charged again. The glaive whistled in and he ducked down, raising his shield to block with the metal-banded edge.

He jolted and was pushed sideways, barely able to keep standing. Pain erupted from his left arm, and Edwin looked on in confused horror as the hob pulled back its weapon. His shield was almost cleft in two. The glaive had cut the metal band, slicing into the wooden shield at a downwards angle, only stopping when it met Edwin’s arm and his reinforced bones provided a barrier that it couldn’t overcome.

He staggered backwards out of range, fear racing through his mind for the first time in a long while. His shield hung limply off his arm, one of the leather straps cut, so he opened the other and let it clatter to the ground. The hob was advancing on him with a growl. If only he had Walter’s magic, he could…

That’s it!

“Salissa, I need an opening!” Edwin yelled, unable to take his eyes off his foe. “When I tell you, I need you to stop his next strike!”

There was a pause, and Edwin feared that she hadn’t heard him or was fighting herself.

“Ready!” She called from behind him, voice determined.

The glaive flew towards him, and Edwin stepped back out of its reach. He checked his left arm, turning it and making a fist. It was still operational; the strike had stopped at the bone before it could sever anything important. It was dripping blood, of course, but that would solve itself soon enough.

Again, the hobgoblin swung at him, and again Edwin evaded backwards. He was almost back at the entrance to the corridor, and the goblins that had been burned or blinded from the fire had recovered and were about to rejoin the fight, although they seemed fine with allowing the hobgoblin to duke it out himself for now.

It was probably a rare treat to have a hob fight at the front instead of waiting until the fodder was exhausted to make its appearance.

“Now!” Edwin shouted, his eyes narrowing as he lowered his head and charged straight at the hobgoblin.

Right into its range.

The hob yowled as it saw him coming, reversing the direction of the glaive and swinging at him with force. The blade whistled towards him, Edwin idly wondering if his bones would be able to take a direct hit that wasn’t slowed by a shield…

…when the blade stopped in mid-air, barely half a meter from Edwin’s body.

Edwin grinned evilly at the perplexed expression on the hobgoblin’s bestial face, and before the creature could react, a savage strike imbued with all of Edwin’s forward momentum smashed into its ribs, cracking them like kindling and splashing drops of blood back on him. The hob fell backwards, coughing blood and scrabbling for purchase at the smooth stone floor.

The glaive was still where it had stopped, hanging motionlessly in Salissas’s telekinetic grasp.

Edwin dropped his mace and gripped the glaive’s shaft, feeling its substantial weight as Salissa dropped her conversion. He swung it over his head and brought it down on the injured hobgoblin, the monster weakly raising its arm to block it.

The glaive split flesh, bones and cartilage with the barest resistance. It impacted the floor with a reverberating clang as the cleft hobgoblin fell to the left.

And to the right.

The goblins in the room stilled, staring open-mouthed at their bisected leader. A manic grin split Edwin’s face as he hefted his new weapon, scanning for his next victim. As one, the goblins began to scream in fear and run towards the exit.

A few quick steps brought Edwin back to the entrance of the corridor, where Salissa, eyes wide, prepared herself to defend against the ten or so onrushing monsters. The first ones were ahead of Edwin, but a wide sweep of the glaive cut them both at the hip before they could turn the corner into the hallway. Edwin turned around, facing the fleeing goblins that now had to get past him.

He had absolutely no practice with glaives. Mennick had trained him in a wide array of weapons, including staves and two-handed axes, but that had only been the barest amount of instruction, and was mostly forgotten at this point. His spearwork was passable (barely, the grouchy instructor had said), but little of that applied to his new treasure.

It didn’t need to.

Edwin wielded the glaive like he was cutting grain. Wide, powerful sweeps of the heavy weapon bisected goblins like they were stalks of wheat before a farmer’s scythe. Several times he misjudged his swing, hitting the monsters with the end of the shaft instead of the blade, but even those were thrown to the ground, to be reaped later.

The last of the goblins died, still trying to squeeze past him and reach the stairs when the glaive cut through its torso, leaving the shoulders and head connected by only a thread. Edwin paused, searching for more enemies but finding none. He turned to the corridor and met the eyes of his teammates. Apparently, they had cleaned up whatever had attacked them from behind and had caught the tail end of his rampage.

“New toy?” Bordan asked with raised eyebrows.