The funny thing was, our casualties were not actually that high—and those that were had largely been caused by our little internal security snafu.
"You holding up, pretty hair?" Lancelot removed the knife from my back and hurled it at an approaching goblin. The creature, with the blade embedded in its eye, was flung back into the advancing horde.
"Sure!" As soon as the blade was gone, my skin reknit as good as new. "This doesn't feel like it's going as well as could be hoped?"
Arthur jumped down from Llameri and slapped Lancelot on the back. "Outstanding. The way you turned that group was a thing of beauty!" Lancelot grinned and offered his own congratulations for Arthur's own death-dealing. I felt quite left out of the sausage-fest.
Nevertheless, I took the opportunity of them tugging each other off to take in more about our current situation. We'd lost, perhaps, five or six spearmen, with another ten to fifteen in various states of mangled. The goblins were as focused on biting and scratching as using the makeshift weapons they held.
I made sure anyone from Dumnonia who needed an elixir got a sip or two, and then was also pretty free with the liquid with anyone who I felt had a positive rating on my internal 'dickometre.'
Our losses looked pretty rosey compared to the goblins, whose fallen carpeted the field like the aftermath of a frog genocide. Like, they'd been properly done over. There had to be at least half of the original army lying dead and dying around us, the vast majority of whom had just ground themselves to mincemeat against our shield wall. Arthur and Lancelot's devastating charges had accounted for several hundred more squashed corpses. In any normal situation, these guys would be fleeing for some significant wound licking.
And yet . . .
The arrival of the same sort of numbers again in the second goblin army was a bugger. The sheer volume of shrieking creatures we were now looking at was pushing things beyond Zulu territory and into the realms of 300. Don't get me wrong, I was all for the men oiling up and going full Leonidas here - Lancelot wasn't the only one who would really sparkle being filmed by Zack Snyder - but I'd rather hoped not to end my time in the dark ages being filled full of holes by goblin arrows.
Arthur brought me back into the real world with a slap on my back that I couldn't help but think was a little less fulsome than the one he gave Lancelot. "And I hear you caused no little damage yourself, wizard? The bards will sing of your deeds this day!"
"Sounds lovely. Of course, some of us need to survive in order to tell any stories."
Arthur laughed at that. I'm glad one of us was in a good mood. "We're fine. Our biggest challenge was going to be the flanking of the ends of the shield wall. And that nearly happened more times than we might have hoped. Fortunately, we had Lancelot to take care of that!"
"And you, my king."
"Not as impressively as you!"
"Too kind, sir."
The noise of my dry retching ended the collective love-in. Arthur appeared to sense my lack of being remotely impressed. "What I mean is that if I thought we could have established a ring formation in the middle of the field, this would have been my absolute first choice. We're golden here."
"Dude, we're surrounded. By thousands of goblins. And we just killed a significant number of their mates."
"Precisely, we've got them exactly where we want them."
I was about to reply to that little dose of wishful thinking when I realised there was a complete lack of panic in the men. Even the other kings, who could reasonably be assumed to be giving Arthur hell for the failure of his battle plan, were calmly going amongst their men.
Well, apart from Mark, who was leaning over his litter's edge, trying to grab the arse of his servant. I idly wondered if he had been responsible for the little assassination attempt against me. I assumed not. There was a lot of water still to flow under the bridge on this quest, and it struck me he was the type to want to be around for the final moment.
For what it is worth, I think you are right, my dear. I see little benefit for any of the kings in your death before the completion of the three Steps. That you were responsible for passing the Step of Blood should give anyone plotting your demise pause.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
"Mind you, the fact that Caeldfwch's key purpose is to negate my power, it may be felt any opportunity to take me out would more than compensate for not getting hold of the sword . . . "
Good point, my dear.
I waited for Merlin to say more. Perhaps a few words of encouragement or solace. Nothing appeared. "Is that it, Big M?"
Sorry? Did you want more? I agree with you. It will probably be worth them killing you - by any means necessary - even at the loss of the sword.
"Fuck's sake, mate. Never take up a position with the Samaritans."
I was distracted from consideration of my impending death at the hands of three kings of England by Owain pushing his way through to me. "What do you think they're waiting for?"
The King of Gwent had clearly been in the thick of things, covered as he was in blood. I was assuming at least most of it was goblins. He saw me looking and grinned. "Had some tensions to work out."
I could dig that.
Lancelot pointed to a commotion at the back of the second goblin army. "Taking charge is someone."
I looked at where he was indicating and made out a goblin built on a slightly different scale than the others we'd been slaughtering. It shared the same general characteristics - green, hunched shoulders, spikey ears and sharp teeth - but it was the size of Bors.
"Oh, fuck," Arthur sword. "It's a hobgoblin!"
*
There is a long and undistinguished history to the race of goblins. Although they are primarily confined to the realm of the fae, they can be found in enclaves across the real world.
"Like Knockers?" I added helpfully.
Yes, thank you. I don't really need the colour commentary, to be honest.
"No worries, dude. I just realised I hadn't said that word lately. And I like it. Knockers."
Moving back to your imminent life and death struggle . . . Goblins are pretty much exactly as they say on the tin. Small, aggressive, and they tend to attack from large groups. They are not too dangerous to armed men unless they arrive in overwhelming numbers. Or - and this is where it becomes significant to your current situation, my dear - a Hobgoblin organises them.
"And that's what's about to happen here?"
Well, my dear, it does explain why the fae would view us removing this army as an act of good 'faith'. An undisciplined horde - no matter how big - would cause the fae as much challenge as a cloud of flies. Irritating, but entirely removeable. However, if they are led by a Hobgoblin . . .
"What? What change does a Hobgoblin cause?"
Arthur obviously thought the question was for him. "It makes me wish I had three times as many men."
I'd like to think that the affection Arthur had shown Lancelot earlier did not have too much to do with my following actions. But I think I'd be lying.
I drew Drynwyn and sighted down its length. "Say no more, blud."
And I let the Hobgoblin have it with
There was just enough time for Merlin to shout No! as the stream of arcing flame lightning leapt out to flash across the distance between the two armies. It struck the Hobgoblin in the centre of its chest and . . . did absolutely nothing at all.
My dear, goblins are eminently susceptible to Qi manipulation. Hobgoblins, however, by their very nature as mutated beings, have developed through an intuitive ability to harness ambient Qi. They feed on such attacks! And, at their worst, they are actually able to harness a Qi technique and . . . shield up, my dear.
I was just able to raise a thin dome of Earth Qi in time to deflect at least some of the energy of the returning strike away from me. The rest, unfortunately, I ended up tanking.
This was not a whole lot of fun.
It took a few minutes for me to regain control of my muscles - my first course of action was to swap in a pair of clean underclothes - but I felt this was an instructive lesson. "Okay. So, no flinging Qi at a Hobgoblin. Message heard and understood."
Arthur and Lancelot were looking at me with expressions of alarm. "What happened?!"
I retook my feet and subtly used a little flare of Drynwyn's fire to burn away the little puddle I was lying in. "No worries at all. Just a little light cultivator back and forth."
"Your arse he kicked," Lancelot said, grinning.
"Lulling it into a false sense of security, I promise you."
Trumpets blew behind me, and I was aware of a ramp-up in the general tension. Arthur began issuing a stream of orders I couldn't quite follow, but it seemed like his men were all over it.
The ring we were in seemed to contract as the press of bodies all moved in unison and then pushed outwards as the spearmen re-established themselves in a slightly different formation.
The little cavalry we possessed had spaced themselves around the ring, with little units of men - some with spears, others with bows and javelins - clustered around them. By the taut faces and white knuckles, it seemed to me that no one was any longer feeling cocky about how this was going to go.
And then Arthur's voice was in my ear. "Wizard, I need height. If we're stood here when the armies met, we'll be crushed flat. The Hobgoblin will ensure a much more disciplined attack pattern, and we will just be ground down to dust. I need to have higher ground."
"I can't portal this many people, my lord. Even at full power, that would be beyond me. And I'm nowhere near that!"
Arthur shook his head, but it was Merlin who answered.
Interesting. Arthur has formed up as if you were to receive an attack from below. It strikes me, my dear, he does not need you to transport the army out of here. He needs you to create a slope.
I looked at the flat plain that divided our small circle of humans from a large - fucking massive - mob of bellowing, green monsters.
"And I can do that?"
No idea, my dear. In theory, sure. You have the Qi sensitivity to achieve it. I think it would be sensible for us to find out.
Awesome. Because I'm always at my best under pressure.