Now, you may thinking, "for fuck's sake, Morgan. You've kicked goblin-arse twice already; what is going to be different this time?"

And that would be a fair argument, well made.

As a counterpoint, I should note a few differences between meeting an army head-on when you have a plan and shield wall set-up and being ambushed from all sides when you are in a long, thin column through twisty forest paths.

I'd also highlight that these guys were gearing up to take on the fucking Fae. So, whilst they may not have exactly been Genghis' hordes sweeping majestically across the plains of Asia, neither were they a drone army of robots being wiped out by a bunch of frogs with magic, exploding rocks.

Even then, I agree we'd still be the hot favourites if everyone had acted in anything approaching a concerted manner. However, there was just too much suspicion going on now. In the few seconds before I got very busy indeed, I heard Arthur order one thing, Beric another, Owain's spears try something whilst Corys's men under his command did something different. Oh, and I'm pretty sure I saw Mark's forces turn on Lancelot.

But then I was involved in a scene that was not dissimilar to the climax of Gremlins.

I may suggest a shield would be useful in these circumstances, my dear. You are increasingly hardy, but it only takes one stray arrow . . .

I snapped out of watching four small figures streak towards me with 'lunch' in their minds. As a decent complement of ordinance came out of the woods behind them, I took the Big M's point and activated .

And not a moment too soon.

The projected image of the painting whipped out in front of me, the figure's walking stick flashing left and right to smack the projectiles out of the air. Others followed, though, and the dude was quickly turned into a pincushion.

As he seemed fairly undisturbed by this development, I left him to it and turned my attention to the four little murder-kermits who were now on top of me.

I drew Drynwyn and thrust it at the lead attacker, three feet of ugly green knobliness carrying its own sword. Surprisingly, it did a decent job of parrying, which just made my sword angry. You won't like it when it's angry. A pulse of flame ended that little dust-up. I would have made a suitable comment - "a bit hot for you?" perhaps - if I hadn't found my hands a little full with the assault of the others.

They each attacked with some degree of coordination, taking advantage of my sword temporarily being engaged. Three spears reached for me. I their arses but only succeeded in blasting one of them backwards, where it hit a tree with the sort of sickening crunch that suggested it would take more than a skilled chiropractor with a 'can do' attitude to sort it out.

The other two, though, recovered and got all up in my business. I was just pulling Drynwyn back towards a decent guard position when a bone-tipped spear took me in the shoulder. Don't get me wrong, I could probably have shrugged this off even before I was a cultivator. We were basically getting mobbed by off-brand Smurfs, and provided I kept my wits about me, there really should be little that could be done to cause me massive damage.

However, what the injury did do was numb my arm for just long enough for the sword to drop from my fingers.

For fuck's sake!

I pulsed Qi to the wound, and it healed instantly. I followed up by throwing out a nice couple of arcs of at the goblins before me. I may even have cackled a touch as I did so.

I then took a step forward to retrieve my sword but then staggered to the side as a spearman I didn't think I recognised - I mean, something had bitten away half his face, so I wasn't sure that was fully competent identification check - crashed into me and, in the midst of the chaos, kicked Drynwyn away and into the melee.

Fuck.

I wasn't quite the helpless wee fawn I'd been before I found the sword, but neither was I going to be especially helpful to Arthur unarmed. I turned to follow the direction the blade had gone and grimaced at what I was looking at.

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We were taking a doing.

I could see where little islands of resistance had sprung up the length of the column where someone had kept their heads long enough to pull men back into the formations that had served us well before. The thing is, there were thousands of years of 'mano a mano' juices swimming through each man's mind over which a thin layer of Roman discipline had been painted.

Arthur was golden. I mean, he'd clearly lost a few men we couldn't afford to in the chaos of the initial ambush, but there were still at least ten of his spears in a ring around him. I couldn't see Llameri, but I doubted Arthur had let anything happen to her. Goblins were still pouring from the woods, but they were breaking on that bulwark like a tide against a pier and then flowing further down the column.

And that was where the issues were coming.

I couldn't see Beric's men at all. I mean, I'm sure they were there. It was just that they were buried under a sea of green. It would be just my luck if that was where Drynwyn had ended up, too. I quested out down our connection with my Qi which confirmed it. Yep. Of course, that was where it was.

I covered my hands with the thickest of paint I could and checked my shield was still functioning - fuck, it had actually taken a shit-tonne of damage. The poor dude had lost an arm and a leg, and the mountain behind him was on fire. But hey, tis but a scratch. I refreshed him with a significant amount of my remaining Qi - and waded into the battle to reclaim my sword.

Now, the thing about goblins is not that they are hard to kill. It's more that both of you seem to be equally committed to their death being the outcome. They're like all those bugs that throw themselves at a speeding car's windscreen. One or two of them will have a negligible impact, but if enough block your vision, it will be a wipe-out city.

I was alternating between to try to clear a path, and there were hundreds of the little buggers going flying. I still wasn't seeing much in the way of Beric's men - or, at least, not in an uneaten state - but I was finding it tricky to give too much of a damn.

I was much more worried about the disaster happening around Owain.

I smashed two goblins foaming at the mouth at the prospect of my sweet, sweet cheeks on toast, shattering their skulls and using them as makeshift hammers to clear a bit more space to try to catch sight of the King of Gwent.

Compared to the mincemeat being made of Beric's men, there was at least some sign of life around Owain's position. I imagine too many seasons of peace with the Saxons had led to the men of Powys being a touch soft around the edges. On the other hand, you could say what you liked about their king - and Cory's men had been saying plenty - but the men of Dehuebarch were showing some heart. The problem, though, was that the remnants of Mark's men - had they really tried to jump Lancelot? - were trying to force their way inside the defensive circle they'd established in the middle of our line.

That will get them all killed, my dear, Merlin whispered. If Owain opens the circle to let Mark in, the goblins will pour in, too.

"What do I do?" I opened the cone of to become a wide circle around me and activated it. This was a much more diffuse blast of energy, but it cleared me a few moments to think before the wave of green would wash over me again.

Me personally? I would slaughter Mark's men. This is a salvage mission now, my dear, and they are expendable. From what I can tell, they are running because they tried to attack Lancelot's men, which is a poor evolutionary choice.

"Okay. Well, I'll take that under advisement. Do I have any non-genicidal options? Just so I can say I've considered all sides, you fucking lunatic."

If you find that unpalatable, then you must find a way to significantly reduce the pressure on Owain's formation so that they can open their defences and let Mark's refugees in.

"And how do I do that?"

No idea, my dear. You will be wanting to refresh your shield, by the way.

I was being absolutely fucked up by arrows. I refreshed my poor Wanderer, who was just a pair of feet doing its best to intercept all the shit coming my way, and had a thought.

Merlin obviously had the same idea. That would probably do it, my dear.

I dragged all the arrows away from the Wanderer and, for good measure, gave a quick tug of Wood Qi to grab hold of any that were lying around on the floor. This turned out to be a lot.

"Just how many of these fucking things are attacking us?!"

You do realise what you are about to do is going to do a fair amount of harm to our own side . . .

"Dude, not two seconds ago, you were advocating for me wiping out an entire king's retinue. Now you are being squeamish?"

I am just here to offer advice.

"Well, be quiet for a minute. I'm concentrating."

I felt the shape of in my head. When Aurelius had torn out my other techniques, I realised they each had a particular position in my core. This was interesting as it suggested they had a physical presence within my soul. It would, therefore, seem to me that I could make some alterations with a bit of tweakng.

Holding on to all the arrows with the lightest of feathers of Qi, I brushed them against my technique and tried to subtly suggest it could do something else as well.

I scrabbled about for a bit and then felt Merlin take charge. I recognised the slightly frustrated noise he made before placing some guiding hands upon mine from a million . . . intimate encounters.

Then we were in business.

I triggered . . . or rather I didn't. This variety of the technique that clicked into being was called .

All of the wood I'd packed against myself suddenly exploded outwards in a wide arc, turning a significant proportion of the goblins into snot.

It would be accurate to say this turned the tide of battle.