The Guardians: Book One of the Restoration Series (32 page)

“Guard the wall!” Flare shouted at the soldiers nearest to him. “I’ll take care of him!” He dropped his pike, and drawing his sword, charged the goblin.

The goblin
sneered
an evil grin, laughing as Flare charged him. “Isss
this the
best? Tonight I take your woman, and if you live, I’ll make you watch.”

The words were probably meant to enrage him, to make him fight without thinking, but they had the opposite affect on him. The words calmed him, and cleared his head.

The goblin started the fight with a massive overhead swing. Flare blocked the blow, but felt the jolt all the way down to his toes. He stepped back and to the right, preferring not to fight too close to the goblin.

The goblin then slashed at Flare horizontally, from left to right. Flare dropped below the swing, placing his left hand on the ground and kicked, with his right leg, at the goblin's knee. The goblin was too fast, and jumped out of the way of the kick.

Regaining his feet, Flare assumed a fighting stance. His feet spread shoulder width apart, with the right foot slightly ahead of the left. He assumed a two handed grip on the sword, and watched for the goblin's next move.

The goblin drove right at Flare, attempting to skewer him with the scimitar.

CLANK! Flare knocked the scimitar to the right, and tried to whip his sword back across the throat of the goblin. Once again, the goblin was too fast and moved a step back away from Flare. Flare pressed the situation, by trying his own thrust at the goblin's belly.

CLANK! The goblin slapped Flare’s sword to the side, and rushed him. Flare was caught off guard, and pressed back against the wall. His sword and the goblin's scimitar were locked together, and the two combatants wrestled to gain an advantage. The goblin was clearly stronger, and was forcing Flare to lean backwards over the wall.

Flare released his sword with his left hand, and made a grab for his knife. He missed it, and grabbed at it again, this time he was relieved to feel the knife hilt in his left hand. He reversed his hold, and slashed across the throat of the goblin. Reddish black blood sprayed across Flare, as the goblin stumbled back spewing blood through his hand, which had instinctively grasped his ruined throat.

Pressing the goblin's plight, Flare swung his sword at the monster's throat, nearly severing its head in the process.

Flare breathed a sigh of relief as he sized up the defenders’ predicament. The defenders were holding the attackers at bay, with just a few sneaking onto the wall. The few that managed to reach the wall were being dealt with by groups of two or more soldiers. Loss of life had been minimal for the soldiers, but he felt every loss like a knife in his stomach. The defenders couldn’t afford to lose even so much as a single life, and since they were under his command, the loss hurt that much more.

The attack continued all afternoon, with much the same results. The goblins continued to try and storm the wall, and they succeeded occasionally, but they were repelled almost instantly. The attackers pushed on with unrelenting stubbornness, throwing their lives away in a concerted effort to take the wall.

Flare fought all afternoon beside his fellow soldiers. His arms were sore, and his back hurt from swinging the heavy pike. His heart hurt from watching all the death around him, as well as having to take so many lives, albeit goblin lives.

The soldiers, who were serving under him, were obviously scared to death. Their faces reflected the fear and frustration, at the siege, and at the death of their friends.

The goblins pushed on until dusk, and then fell back. The soldiers manned the walls for another hour, just to make sure that the goblins were through, and then Flare sent the troops to the mess hall. He posted guards, and then went looking for the wounded.

He found Mikela, Atock, Kara, and Enton tending the wounded in a barracks building, which had been turned into a makeshift infirmary.

“Flare, over here.” Atock called out, waving Flare over.

“Atock.
How many injured?” He asked.

Atock sighed deeply before answering, “Twenty-two dead. Three injured bad, and not expected to survive the night. Six more are injured badly enough where they will not fight again for a long time, if ever.”

Flare took the news silently, struggling with another possible twenty-five dead on his conscience.

“How many soldiers are left?
About three hundred and seventy?”
Atock asked.

“Yeah.”
Flare asked quietly.

Atock could sense the pain and remorse welling up in his friend; he leaned in and spoke quietly. “Flare. You are doing everything that you can do. These soldiers knew what they were getting into when they joined. These soldiers are defending thousands of farmers and merchants. If they get through us, there’s nothing between them and Telur.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Flare said raising his voice, but instantly feeling guilty. He reached out and grasped Atock's shoulder, “I’m sorry, I guess the strain is getting to me.”

“Forget it. The stress is getting to all of us, and we’re not even in charge.” Atock paused, considering his friend, “Are you going to be all right?”

Flare laughed a laugh he didn’t feel. “No,” was the only answer he could give.

As miserable and heart breaking as the days were, the nights were the exact opposite. Flare’s relationship with Murleen was developing nicely, and he felt for her, like he had never felt for anybody else. He was rather inexperienced with affairs of the heart; this was as close to in love as he had ever been.

For her part, Murleen embraced and returned his affection with a passion that numbed him to the core of his very being.
 

In her arms, Flare escaped the troubles and tribulations of command. The deaths seemed to melt away and for a short while, he found happiness.

The fourth day since Callin’s death, and Heather’s hopeful departure, dawned sunny and cool. There were a few white clouds in the sky, but there was no hint of rain. Birds could be heard chirping, and everything seemed peaceful. To anyone who had not been at the fort the past week, it would seem to be a perfectly wonderful morning.

Flare stood on the battlements, watching the horizon for any sign of the goblins approach. He could smell cooking fires, and hear the townspeople as they prepared for the coming attack.

He assigned Trestus to the eastern wall again, but only assigned him forty-five soldiers. Most of the forty-five soldiers were injured in one way or another.
Nothing serious, but enough for them to be assigned to the less dangerous side of the fort.

Flare only had three hundred and twenty-five soldiers left to guard the western wall.

The goblins once again made the defenders wait until noon for the attack. The goblins were probably doing it on purpose; sometimes the anticipation of an event was worse than the actual event.

When the attack came, it was sudden and surprising. A solid wall of goblins rushed the fort, in the same manner they had previously attacked.

Flare was surprised. He was expecting the goblins to try something different, but once again they attacked carrying ladders and ropes. He briefly noticed that a large number of the black goblins were concentrated in the middle of the attackers, but he quickly forgot about it as he was forced to cut ropes and push ladders away from the wall.

Shortly after the fighting began, he heard a shout come from behind him. He spun around, and saw that two goblins had gained the wall, and slaughtered a defender. The goblins were trying to hold their ground, while more goblins climbed up behind them. Flare opened his mouth to shout a command, when he saw that the soldiers were already aware of the situation.

Three soldiers charged the goblins. Two soldiers took the goblin on the left, and the other soldier engaged the goblin on the right. Flare realized, with a start, that the soldier on the right was Derek, his fellow guardian.

Flare sprinted toward the fight, hoping to get there before any more goblins climbed over the wall.

Derek squared off against the goblin, saying a silent prayer as he drew Surdim from its sheath. The goblin was a nasty looking brute. He was six feet tall and heavily muscled. He had several inch long fangs, and his hands ended in long claws. He carried a long and wide scimitar.

The goblin swung the scimitar, on a downward swing. Derek was smart enough to not try and block the scimitar; instead he used his sword to deflect it away from him. Then, he quickly tried to reverse the motion and spear the goblin with his sword, but he was too slow and missed.

The goblin started a massive swing from Derek’s left to right, and Derek swung upward hoping to deflect the sword again. The goblin somehow stopped his swing, and used his scimitar to knock Derek’s sword away. Both the sword and the scimitar went flying from the collision, and Derek found himself in unarmed combat with a monstrous goblin.

Sensing the advantage, the goblin roared a primitive cry, and brought a massive forearm down on the top of Derek’s helmet.

Derek collapsed to the ground dazed and seeing yellow spots, as the goblin scurried to retrieve his scimitar. After a moment his head began to clear, and he looked up to see the goblin raise his scimitar, over his head.

Derek, sitting on his butt, stared at the scimitar in the goblins’ hands. He watched as the sword began its downward swing, bringing his death with it. Praying, Derek closed his eyes and hoped it would be quick.

Derek heard a THUMP, and a CLANK. He opened his eyes, and saw the goblin lying beside his scimitar in a growing pool of blood. It took several moments for Derek to realize that its head was lying several feet from the rest of its body.

Standing over the body of the goblin, Flare smiled at Derek, “Hey Derek. Need some help?”

Derek was glad he was still sitting down, his knees were weak, and his body was going numb. He closed his eyes and relaxed his head backward against the wall trying to not pee
himself
.

Flare was surprised that there were no more ladders or grappling hooks hanging on the wall. He would have thought the attackers would have tried to
pore
as many goblins as possible into the breach.

BOOM! BOOM! A thunderous noise rolled over the battlements.

‘What in the name of the abyss was that?' Flare thought, jumping toward the battlements. For a moment, he thought that the goblins had brought some more siege towers. That thought was quickly displaced by a new danger.

“What is it?” Derek asked.

BOOM!

Flare hesitated in amazement at what was taking place below him. “The goblins are using a battering ram. And it’s huge! I …” He never finished that sentence.

BOOM!

The resounding boom had cut him off, but Flare had quit speaking even before it rang out. He finally got a good look at the ‘goblins’ that were swinging the massive battering ram. “Derek, I was wrong. It’s not goblins using that battering ram,
it’s
trolls.”

Trolls are
a gigantic humanoid race that primarily dwell
below ground. While trolls have the same basic shape as humans, they are gigantic in comparison. Trolls are usually nine feet tall or taller and their strength is legendary. Their skin color is grayish, though some have a slight greenish tint, and their hair is typically coarse and oily.

The worse part of trolls is from the neck up. In one word, they are simply hideous.
Oversized noses and ears, and eyes that are used to squinting in the dark places of the earth.
They have teeth that are normally black or brown, and bent at all different angles. They are ferocious in battle, and more than a match for a human in even combat.

Flare watched in awe, as the trolls swung the massive battering ram.

BOOM!

There were twenty trolls swinging the battering ram, ten on each side. The battering ram was made of steel, and over twenty feet long. It had handles jutting perpendicularly away from the sides, which the trolls were using to carry and swing it.

Flare observed all of this in a flash.

BOOM!

The gate could withstand the bombardment only for a short while. ‘We have got to stop them quickly!
But How?’
Flare wondered. He leaned back out over the wall, and looked for a weakness in the enemy. The trolls were directly in front of the gate. A host of goblins was gathered on either side of the trolls, but they were just standing there, having stopped trying to scale the walls. ‘What are they waiting for?’ Then it dawned on him. ‘They expect us to open the gates.’ It actually made sense, now that he stopped and thought about it. They would have to open the gates to stop the trolls, and that would allow the goblins access to the fort. If they didn’t open the gates, then the trolls would beat down the walls, thereby giving access to the goblins. Either way they were in trouble.

BOOM!

Derek tried to pull himself to his feet, but he stumbled and fell back on his rear, but the movement jarred Flare from his hesitation.

“Derek! Don’t move. I’ll get Kara to see to you.”