The world was watching. Below Liscor, an army of Humans was gathered. A force ready to sweep south, to break the walls of the Drake city. And in front of them were Goblins. A people described as monsters. They had come here, not of their own volition. They had been herded. Driven like cattle.

Manipulated.

This was not their grand struggle. They were tools in other people’s games, a means to the end. In that sense they were worthless. But see. It was an army of Goblins that gave Tyrion Veltras the pretext to besiege Liscor. It was they who threatened the city.

And it was the second army of Goblins who rose to defend it. They were an army of fragments. Three tribes, each hailing from a different place. Each with different leaders. But they ran together as they surged across the Floodplains. Down into the valleys, up hills, towards the Goblin Lord’s army.

Reiss shouted and his army moved to intercept the charging Goblins. His force spread out, over a hundred thousand Goblins, moving to ensnare the far smaller force. They would win. How could they not? There were three Goblins in Reiss’ army for every one of his enemies.

And yet—the army of Goblins didn’t slow down. They didn’t waver. Because they were running, chasing a young woman across the Floodplains. Following her.

Erin Solstice’s heart was in her mouth. She was breathless. Her body was filled with nervous energy. She wanted to throw up, run away, and hide. A wall of night was marching at her. Black armor. Green skin. Red eyes. The Goblin Lord’s army was marching, roaring. But Erin ran on. Because of them.

Five Hobgoblins ran behind Erin. And behind them, Cave Goblins. Redfang Warriors howling, ready for battle. The Flooded Waters tribe. They had come back for her. And they had charged for her. Just for her. For a hot meal, a place to be safe.

A smile. And they would fight and die too. How could Erin ever ask them to charge alone? So she ran. And as the Goblins ran around her, past her, Erin could see them. Green faces. Pointed ears. Sharp teeth. Crimson eyes. A monster’s face.

But they were so beautiful. A people she had come to love. And they looked back at her, smiling. Then they looked ahead and raised their weapons. Erin felt her breath burning in her lungs as she climbed a hill. She had a frying pan in one hand, a knife in the other. She nearly slipped in the mud. Then she was on the top of the hill, looking down.

A sea of black-armored Goblins stared up at her. Undead lurched forwards. Erin stared down. And then she saw the Goblins raise bows.

“Watch out!”

The Goblins were already raising their shields. Erin raised her frying pan, as if it was a shield, then she realized the Goblins were still running. Even those without protection. The Goblin Lord’s archers loosed the first hail of arrows. And Erin ran beneath the dark rain and heard Goblins begin to die.

Screams of pain and terror. Shouts as Goblins were hit and slid in the muck. Cries of anger. And then the sound of more bows nocking. Loosing. A second wave of arrows flew as Erin ran down the hill. More Goblins fell. Erin didn’t see them, but she heard them. She would have turned. She would have gone back. She had potions on her belt, alchemical weapons from Octavia to defend herself. She had not left her inn unprepared. But it wasn’t behind her where the battle lay.

It was right in front of her.

The first rank of Goblins stood shoulder-to-shoulder, braced. They were in formation. They leveled their weapons at the first rank of Goblins charging at them. Erin was a dozen paces behind them. She saw five Hobgoblins running ahead of the rest.

Headscratcher, Rabbiteater, Shorthilt, Numbtongue. Even Badarrow, for all that he carried a bow. They had outdistanced her and the other Goblins. Now they charged forwards, screaming. The Goblin Lord’s army waited for them, loosing arrows, shouting. They were confident. Bitterly resolved. They had Reiss on their side. A Goblin Lord. And what did these Goblins have?

A wall of black steel. Erin saw Headscratcher roar. He sprinted faster than the rest, his mouth opening wide. A [Berserker] howled and he raised his golden axe. The jade edge gleamed. Reiss’ Goblins looked up at him. They saw the axe’s edge shine, and then grow. The magical edge grew three times in length. The Goblins shouted in horror. An enchantment? But only Chieftains had weapons that powerful.

Chieftains. Or adventurers. Then Headscratcher swung the axe. The black-armored Goblins raised their shields. The magical axe sheared through the metal. It cut bone and flesh. The first rank of Goblins disappeared. The Goblins standing behind their friends recoiled as Headscratcher’s first blow made a dozen Goblins vanish. And then he was among them. They looked up into blazing eyes and saw the axe swinging towards them.

Forwards. Headscratcher opened a gap by himself. The other four Redfangs followed, moving to his left and right, keeping clear of his wide swings. Five versus an army.

Goblins were all around them. Thrusting with spears, screaming in terror as Headscratcher charged forwards. But so many. They tried to overwhelm the other four, get at Headscratcher’s back. He was only one Chieftain, after all. A Hob thrust smaller Goblins aside. He swung a club as tall as he was at Shorthilt. The [Weapon Expert] turned and his sword flashed.

The edge sliced through the haft of the club. The Hob blinked. Shorthilt pirouetted and his second swing took the Hob’s head off. The Goblins backed away as Shorthilt advanced. His sword was not enchanted, but it cut like magic. He aimed at the weak points in a Goblin’s armor, the gap between shield and chest. His teeth were bared and he fought with a precision lesser Goblin [Warriors] had never seen. And by his side was a Hobgoblin who wielded nothing but a guitar.

Numbtongue cracked a Goblin’s head with the base of his guitar. Then he spun and intercepted a sword cut from another Hob. The bigger Goblin gaped as the guitar didn’t break. Electricity ran from the strings of the guitar. The [Bard] roared and heaved. The enemy Hobgoblin stumbled back and Numbtongue clubbed him alongside the head. Lightning flashed and the Hob roared.

“Redfang!”

His voice was booming. Reiss’ Goblins stared up at him. It was a word to inspire fear. The name of that most famous tribe. And the other four took it up.

“Redfang.”

Badarrow had stopped behind the others. He raised his bow and shot a Goblin trying to stab Headscratcher in the back. He aimed left and shot another Goblin through the head. Then a Hob. The bigger Goblin was wearing a helmet, but the tip of the arrow shot through his eyehole. The [Sniper] spun and another Goblin fell. His hands moved constantly, grabbing more arrows from the quiver. Then he reached for something at his side.

A bell, bronze and blue metal. The clapper was muffled. The bell was attached to a special arrow. Badarrow lifted it to his bow and aimed past the Goblins. He pulled the bit of wax stifling the bell from ringing and aimed past Headscratcher, at the Goblins ahead of them. He drew back, loosed.

The bell flew up. The arrow curved in a long arc and fell among the [Archers] shooting at Erin and the other Goblins. It landed among the Goblins, a single arrow that didn’t even hit one of them. But as the bell struck the ground, it rang once.

Pain. The bell tolled not with sound, but with pain and agony. Goblins fell to the ground, screaming, their ears bleeding. The bell rolled and chimed again. The Goblins around it howled, convulsing. All those who heard the noise shuddered. Those closest to it were paralyzed by pain. And it was into that gap the Redfangs charged.

Four. Headscratcher cut down Goblins ahead of him, ignoring the wounds he took. Shorthilt and Numbtongue took the left side and Badarrow covered their backs. But it was the fifth Hobgoblin who caught the eye. He had the right to himself. Reiss’ Goblins surged towards him, but they hesitated as one.

Because of how he looked. This Goblin stood tall. His armor seemed to glow. It was pristine, the chainmail perfectly kept. His blade was sharp as could be. But what really stood out was his cloak. Rabbiteater’s cloak was an ever flowing, deep red, almost violet color. And it was not cloth, but liquid. The Hobgoblin swept the cape around him as he advanced. Goblins were loosing arrows at him, but they sank into the cloak, losing all momentum. Rabbiteater took three strides, and then the first of Reiss’ Goblins were ahead of him. They looked up as Rabbiteater grinned. They swung their weapons and the Hobgoblin swung his sword.

The line of Goblins exploded. Goblins fell from the sky, cut in half. Armor rent. Blown back by a single strike. [Grand Slash]. Rabbiteater straightened. He stabbed into the next rank of Goblins as they backed up, screaming. What was he? Who was he? This Hobgoblin wasn’t a Chieftain. But he was no ordinary Hob either. He was dressed like an adventurer. And he fought like a hero.

A [Champion].

Reiss’ warriors faltered. But the Hobs shouted and they advanced. It was only five! Only five Hobs! They could be overwhelmed, killed! That was when the first rank of Cave Goblins cleared the hill.

The Goblin Lord’s warriors saw the strange, pale, grey-skinned Goblins coming at them. They hesitated. What were these strange Goblins? They poured forwards, a horde without Hobs. They followed the Redfangs into the breach. And they howled as they came on. The black-armored Goblins set themselves. They were warriors! They wouldn’t lose to—

The first wave of Cave Goblins crashed against the shielded warriors. They fought savagely. The next wave overwhelmed Reiss’ warriors. And the third and fourth and fifth—the Goblin Lord’s soldiers fell back in disarray. They locked blades with screaming Goblins. And lost. Hobs cut down Cave Goblins and were overwhelmed by sheer numbers. And not just numbers. The ferocity of the Cave Goblins terrified.

They fought like the five did. With all of Headscratcher’s fury. As precisely as Shorthilt, like Rabbiteater. Miniature champions. And they knew no fear. Hobs backed up as Cave Goblins leapt at them. They were Hobs! But the Cave Goblins had fought Raskghar.

The first contact with Reiss’ army sent a shockwave back through the entire force. The Cave Goblins, led by the five Redfangs poured forwards. At their front was Headscratcher. He couldn’t be stopped. His enchanted axe swung again and again, cutting down Hobs while his Cave Goblins followed him, keeping the [Berserker] safe. Shorthilt and Rabbiteater went left and right, Rabbiteater’s overwhelming horde and Shorthilt’s adept fighters opening the gap in Reiss’ army wider. Numbtongue and Badarrow held the line.

“Impossible. What kind of Goblins are those? Some kind of subspecies? Where did they come from? Liscor’s dungeon?”

Az’kerash whispered, his voice an echo in his apprentice’s mind. But Reiss couldn’t answer his master. He was directing his army, giving them orders.

“Hold the lines! Snapjaw, take your riders around! Hit them from the side! Eater of Spears, kill those Hobs!”

His warriors reacted to Reiss’ orders. They moved forwards, trying to envelop the Cave Goblins. But more Goblins were coming. The Flooded Waters tribe. The Redfangs. Reiss turned towards them, calculating.

“Ignore the riders. They number only four thousand at most. Focus on those grey Goblins. Wipe them out. I will begin raising them as undead. With them—”

“Master! Shut up!”

Reiss roared. In his castle, Az’kerash stepped back, affronted. His waiting Chosen, Venitra, Kerash, and Bea, raised their heads. The ranks of silent undead waiting to be teleported did not move.

“Insolence!”

The three Chosen flinched as the Necromancer uttered the words aloud. He directed his will. But his apprentice wasn’t listening. Reiss was focused on the young woman who was caught up in the fighting. The Cave Goblins screened her and she had yet to enter the fray. She was shielding her head with a frying pan, shouting. He pointed at her and his warriors shouted, surging at her position. The five Redfangs and the Cave Goblins defended her, refusing to let any of his warriors get near. But it was her Reiss wanted. Her. He had to kill her.

—-

It all revolved around her. Niers stared through the scrying orb at the distant figure. The half-Elf controlling the spell was magnifying her vision, but the battle was still far away. Partially obscured by the valleys. But clear enough. The Fraerling could see the young woman, surrounded by the small Goblins with grey skin.

Cave Goblins, apparently. From the dungeon. He could hear people shouting on the walls around the half-Elf. A woman in armor was pointing down at the fighting.

“Is she mad? She’ll be killed! We have to go after her!”

“No! You’ll be killed!”

A man in armor, her older brother, stopped her. The young woman with blonde hair turned on him, but another half-Elf raised a skeletal hand.

“Ylawes is right, Yvlon.”

“Ceria!”

That came from both Yvlon and a young man in white robes. The half-Elf turned.

“Don’t be stupid, Pisces! What can we do?”

“But—”

Pisces’ face was white. He looked to an Antinium with three arms. The insect-man nodded, but hesitantly.

“Captain Ceria is right. If we participate, I believe our team will perish. But if we do not fight…Miss Solstice will die.”

He fell silent. The adventurers stared at the fighting. The half-Elf shook her head.

“What is she doing? She’s going to die.”

“We have to do something.”

“What? What can we—”

Niers tore his attention away from the scrying orb. He looked around. The war room was silent, unlike the shouting and thump of stones hitting Liscor’s walls. His students were bent over the map. They were creating a projection of the battle. He looked down and saw the Goblin Lord’s army, trying to envelop the other Goblins. There were so many of them. Niers hesitated. Then he looked up.

“Well?”

His students jumped. They’d been so engrossed they’d forgotten why they were here. They looked at each other. Then Wil spoke up.

“Who is that? Who is that Human girl? Where did those Goblins come from?”

The young man pointed at the scrying orb. Niers shook his head.

“Pointless questions. This is a battle, Wil. Ask later! You’re [Strategists]! Tell me how the battle’s changed.”

“It’s all changed. The Goblins could damage the Goblin Lord’s army. It will delay the siege. But not for long. That army can’t defeat the Goblin Lord’s army purely by numbers. But they can—”

Umina was running her claws across the board. Her eyes flickered as she stared at the scrying orb and adjusted the positioning of Reiss’ left flank. She looked up at Niers.

“They can aim for the Goblin Lord, though.”

Niers nodded.

“Exactly.”

It was their only hope, and he thought the Goblins knew it. The Cave Goblins were driving straight for the Goblin Lord. But there were far too many. And yet—Niers stared at the map. The second group of Goblins was closing in.

They hadn’t charged wildly forwards. They were moving in formation. The Flooded Waters tribe ran, each unit of Goblins spaced out, maneuvering to the left and right of the Cave Goblins. Redscar led them, directing the Goblins to spread out. And they were the largest group besides the Goblin Lord’s army. A fourth as large perhaps, but—Niers pointed.

“Those Goblins are about to make contact. Cameral!”

The Dullahan snapped to attention. He lifted his head up and stared.

“They’re using pikes! In a charge? That’s foolish!”

Niers saw Marian look up and snap without waiting for him to call on her.

“No, it’s tactics. Watch!”

The students and Niers stared at the scrying orb. Rags’ tribe rushed towards the Goblin Lord’s army. The pikes were indeed in front. They were anti-cavalry weapons. But Niers had seen them used like this before. He knew what to expect. The Goblins with black armor were braced, shields raised. But they faltered as Rags’ army came at them, screaming fury. Because what were they supposed to do?

Twenty-foot long pikes of wood, tipped with steel. That was what was aimed at them, a wall of pikes. There was no way for Reiss’ warriors to hit the pike Goblins of Rags’ army. They could only brace as the pikes rammed into them. And then came warriors behind the pikes, Hobs who tore into the wounded lines. And behind them crossbows fired constantly while Rags’ elite Redfangs charged into gaps.

It was precise. Orchestrated. Beautiful tactics. Niers had never seen Goblins using strategy like that. Not since the Second Antinium War. Not from a Chieftain.

“Dead gods.”

Marian murmured as she watched the Goblin Lord’s ranks buckle. Unlike the Cave Goblins, the Flooded Waters tribe wasn’t propelled by the five Redfangs or momentum alone. They dug in and advanced, supporting the pikes, pushing forwards.

“Analysis. Venaz! How is that group’s strategy compared to the Goblin Lord’s army?”

“Goblin scum. Goblins don’t have strategy, sir.”

The Minotaur looked affronted. He folded his arms. And then he winced as Niers looked up. The Minotaur bit his lip and hesitated.

“—But their tactics are superior. The pikes, the crossbows—they’re reloading quickly. There must be an army-wide Skill at work. This army looks defensive. But the pikes, the crossbows—they can take a powerful offensive. Look, the Goblin Lord’s forces are falling back. They might have more armor, but it’s not helping.”

His voice was grudging, but his analysis was on point. The Goblin Lord’s force was indeed being pushed back by the second charge. And yet—Niers looked up.

“Yerranola.”

The Selphid took one look at the board and replied in her male, Human body. She wore the body of a sixty year-old man, but she spoke like a young woman.

“Both smaller tribes are fully engaged. But the lines are drawn. The Goblin Lord’s shifting his army to surround them. They won’t go further except—the riders, sir.”

“Yes.”

Niers pointed. All of his students looked. The Redfangs hadn’t engaged yet. They had circled the battle, and were approaching from the side. The Goblin Lord wasn’t blind. Reiss had moved a wing of his army out to block the Redfangs.

“They’re going to hit the Goblin Lord’s army from the side. If they could break through, they’ll shatter his lines, cut off parts of his army and reinforce the others. But there’s four thousand riders and at least twenty thousand infantry in the way.”

The Selphid counted the numbers at a glance. She traced her claw across the map.

“If they can break through in a charge—”

“Impossible.”

Venaz asserted. Marian looked up.

“Centaurs could do it.”

“But Goblins?”

“Those aren’t any Goblins. That’s the Redfang tribe.”

Wil consulted a piece of paper on which he’d scribbled notes. Niers just nodded. He watched the Redfangs riding across the battlefield. The half-Elf, Falene, had a sense of the battle too. She was staring at them.

Four thousand Goblins, riding Carn Wolves or horses. A paltry number compared to the other sides engaged in battle. But these Goblins were different. Niers didn’t need his Skills to tell him that. He could feel it.

On they rode. The Redfangs laughed and grinned, ready for battle. They roared as they came. They had been waiting for this moment. The mountain hadn’t been enough. Garen had trained them, and the warriors who had joined him in Tremborag’s mountain. They had lived and bled and fought for this moment.

“Redfang!”

The roar issued from four thousand mouths. The Goblins standing in their way looked up and their eyes were wide with fear. Redfang. They braced.

“Redfang!”

Spiderslicer led the charge. His shortsword swung down as his Carn Wolf leapt. He dodged a spear mid-jump and cut down the Hob holding it. His Redfangs followed him. They didn’t stop as they rode through Goblins, cutting, blocking, dodging.

“Dead gods.”

Yerranola stared down at the map. The unit marking the Redfangs kept going. They charged through the Goblins sent to block them and cut straight towards the Cave Goblins. There they turned.

“They’re cutting back out!”

“Those are Centaur tactics.”

Marian watched as the Redfangs charged in and then secured an exit. They were already looping, to strike at the Goblin Lord from another spot. Niers found himself following the riders with his eyes.

“What power. They could do it! If they keep harrying—”

Wil was perched over the table, nearly blocking Niers’ view of the scrying orb. Venaz yanked him back.

“Ridiculous. It’s one mobile force. The Goblin Lord has his riders as well. Look, they’re moving to intercept.”

“They’ll lose. Those are elites, Venaz. They can do it.”

“There are too many.”

“It’s not enough.”

Umina agreed. Niers looked up sharply. The Lizardgirl was staring at the map. The Goblin Lord’s warriors were faltering. The charges had caught them off-guard. But Umina had seen what the others hadn’t. She pointed.

“They could do it. Maybe. But he’s sending his lieutenants in. And—look at that.”

She pointed at the scrying orb. In the distance, Niers saw pale bodies moving. A separate force, slowly lurching towards the Goblin’s side. And more. Across the battlefield, more bodies stood up. Bloody corpses that had just fallen.

The undead were rising.

—-

“Undead!”

Poisonbite heard the shout. She looked up and around. She saw Redscar pointing and turned. Her female warriors had been engaging Reiss’ warriors from the pikes, darting in and stabbing with poisoned blades before pulling back. Now they turned and saw a new threat.

The undead. A group of zombies, several thousand strong, was coming their way. And Ghouls. Poisonbite bared her teeth. Not good. The undead were immune to her warrior’s poison. She looked around.

“Noears!”

The Goblin [Mage] had charged with her. But he was nowhere to be seen. Poisonbite cursed him and turned. She screamed and the pikes turned to face the undead. They surged down the slope and crashed into the undead.

Ghouls leapt and were skewered. Zombies were impaled dozens of times. The undead had no self-preservation. But that was also a problem. They didn’t die even when impaled. They kept going, walking onto the pikes. They had to be hacked apart or the brains had to be destroyed! And Reiss’ warriors were still fighting.

“Hobs kill undead! We fight!”

Poisonbite pointed forwards. The Hobs under her command strode towards the undead. Poisonbite grimly held the line. Her daggers flashed and a Hob screamed as he tried to get past the weakened line of warriors. He stumbled back as Poisonbite cut him twice more and then dodged back. He swung at her, but the poison was already doing its job. Poisonbite moved backwards, applying a new coat to her blades as the Hobgoblin slowly weakened. He tried to keep fighting, but only two minutes later he was stumbling.

A Goblin ran him through. Poisonbite moved forwards, aiming for another Hob, and then stopped.

The poisoned Hob was moving. He was standing up. How? Poisonbite stared at him. Was the poison not working? Did he have a healing potion?

No. She stared at him. The Hob’s mouth was open. His eyes were wide. And he was dead. A bit of froth and blood ran from his mouth as he forgot his sword and swung clumsily at the Goblins around him.

A zombie. But so soon? He’d barely died. Poisonbite saw the Goblins trying to bring the Hob down a second time, cursing. She looked around.

There. A Goblin died as a female Hob ran him through with a pitchfork. But the instant his corpse hit the ground, it was sitting up. The Hob stomped, cursing, as the zombie tried to claw its way free of the tines pinning its body down.

They were rising. The dead. Not just Reiss’ warriors. But the dead on both sides. One of Poisonbite’s warriors fell, struck by an arrow. She rose and proceeded to bite the Goblin next to her.

“Undead! All dead rising!”

Poisonbite screamed. The Goblins looked around. They stared at the undead. More and more were getting up. For every warrior they killed, for every Goblin they lost—an undead was spawned.

“No.”

Poisonbite backed up. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t fair. But it was happening. She could see Goblins dressed in robes and holding wands, staffs, now. They were stationed behind Reiss’ troops, reanimating the dead. So was Reiss. Between him and his [Necromancers] and [Shamans], they were resurrecting…

Everyone.

—-

“Watch for undead! Guard backs! Kill and then chop off heads!”

Redscar roared as he fought on another front. He could see the Cave Goblins faltering. Headscratcher and the others had found the same trap waiting for him that he had. Redscar cursed as the Hob he’d killed lurched up, bright light shining from its eyes.

Ghoul. It was faster in death than the Hob had been in life. But not cleverer. Thunderfur knocked it down and Redscar leaned out of his saddle to run the Hob through the head. his enchanted blade easily sheared through the bone and the Ghoul died. Redscar turned and the Goblins around him fell back. His frost blade had cut down every Goblin who’d been in Redscar’s way. The undead couldn’t slow Redscar. But they had doubled the Goblins that his warriors had to cut through to get to Reiss.

Even the Redfangs and Spiderslicer had slowed. So many undead! They were all coming to life now. Redscar snarled as he saw Reiss and his [Necromancers] casting magic. They had to be stopped. But how? Some of the [Mages] had set up a barrier and the arrows Badarrow’s Goblins were loosing at them were just bouncing off. As for Reiss—

He had to die. They had to cut to him and kill him. But everywhere the Solstice Goblins had slowed. Their first charge had run out of steam. The undead and Reiss’ troops were pushing them back. It was just numbers. And then Redscar saw them.

Snapjaw and Eater of Spears. Reiss’ lieutenants. His last remaining lieutenants, rather. It was an irony. For all Reiss’ warriors, his best officers, the ones who inspired, who defined his army were dead. Zel Shivertail had slain them and with them gone, his warriors lacked the fire to engage Redscar, Poisonbite, and the five Redfangs where they led. But the last two of Reiss’ warriors were still present. And now they were coming.

Snapjaw rode at the head of what had to be at least fifteen thousand Goblins on horseback. She charged at the Redfangs, her teeth bared, sword drawn. Spiderslicer rode to meet her and the Redfangs howled with him. They were fearless. They met Snapjaw’s warriors in a fury of rearing horses and terrible collisions. Carn Wolves and horses went down alike.

They were stronger than Snapjaw’s forces. Redscar saw more of Snapjaw’s warriors going down each second. But she had the numbers on the Redfangs. And she—

She was strong. Snapjaw cut to the left and right, fighting Redfang warriors. She was as good as they were and her armor and sword were enchanted. But that wasn’t what made her strong. No. It was as Spiderslicer cut towards her that Redscar remembered. Snapjaw wasn’t a [Warrior]. She was—

The female Hobgoblin blocked Spiderslicer’s sword. He cut, cursing the lack of his falchion. She dodged the sword as her horse reared, hooves striking at Spiderslicer’s Carn Wolf. Spiderslicer took the opportunity. He lunged, sword aimed at Snapjaw’s throat. The Hobgoblin opened her mouth—

And bit. Spiderslicer recoiled as the metal teeth closed on his sword. He heard a crack as the poorly-tempered steel snapped. Snapjaw crunched the metal and spat. Spiderslicer stared at her and then leapt back. He cursed and a Redfang Hob took his place. The warrior rushed at Snapjaw, swinging a battleaxe. Snapjaw stared at him and then opened her mouth wide. Wide—

Her jaw dislocated. Her overly large head seemed to grow bigger. The Hob flinched. And Snapjaw bit. Spiderslicer and Redscar stared at what remained of the Hob as it slid from the saddle. The horse shrieked and fled as Snapjaw chewed.

That shouldn’t have been possible. But she had done it. The Redfangs’ assault slowed as more of Snapjaw’s riders forced their way forwards. And Snapjaw led them. Spiderslicer had to retreat, calling for another sword. And while her warriors held the Redfangs back—

Eater of Spears was headed for the Cave Goblins. Redscar saw him, a towering giant above the rest. He was leading a wave of Hobs through the smaller Goblins of Reiss’ army. His tribe. Redscar looked around. He was too far. He had to command Rags’ tribe. But one Goblin could stop him.

“Where is Noears?”

The Goblins looked around. No one could answer. Redscar turned, swearing. He began to ride forwards, but it was too late.

—-

The first roar of contact had been terrifying. The first minute Erin had thought she would die. But the press of Goblins pushing forwards, the sounds of screams and the clash of metal—all of it was at a distance. Erin had been outpaced by the Cave Goblins and the Redfangs. She was stuck amid them as more and more pushed forwards. And they weren’t inclined to let Erin past.

“Headscratcher! Numbtongue! Where are you?”

Erin screamed above the din. Her frying pan was raised like a shield to ward off falling arrows. She was taller than all the Cave Goblins, but she still couldn’t make out the Redfangs amid the fighting. It was chaos.

Green bodies struggled with other figures. Goblins fought in ever-shifting lines, retreating, charging. Erin couldn’t tell how they were identifying friend and foe. The black armor? She tried to push forwards, but the Cave Goblins actively resisted her.

“Let me go!”

Erin shouted at them. She had to fight! To protect—

She was no warrior. Erin knew that. But she had asked them to come. So she moved forwards, ignoring the press trying to keep her back. If she could do something, anything—she had potions.

“Is anyone hurt? I have healing potions!”

It was no use. Erin’s voice was lost amid the fighting. She couldn’t tell where she was, how the battle was going—until she heard the screaming.

The battle lines abruptly opened up in front of her. Cave Goblins moved back, screaming. Erin didn’t understand why. Not until she saw the way the Goblins in front of them awkwardly shambled forwards. Her blood chilled as she recognized the light in their dead eyes.

Undead. The Goblin Lord was raising the undead. And the zombies were rising from every corpse on the ground. Cave Goblins fought the undead and Reiss’ warriors both, but their own were being turned to dead. Erin stared as a Cave Goblin fell not fifteen paces ahead of her and then got up and faced its former allies. She saw a Hobgoblin charge past the zombie, shove it aside, and bring down a huge maul on the head of a Cave Goblin.

He was wearing black armor. He roared, and undead and more Goblins in black armored poured past him. The Cave Goblins cried out and tried to fight back. But—these were Numbtongue’s warriors! Some didn’t even have proper weapons. They were musicians.

The Hob scythed forwards with his maul, bashing bodies aside. Erin stared at him and then realized he was getting closer. And she was walking towards him.

The Hob turned to Erin. He roared, pointing at her. Erin raised the frying pan. She threw it. The Hob blinked as the frying pan flew at his face. He raised a gauntleted hand and knocked it down. He laughed—

And the kitchen knife struck him in the eye. Hilt first. But Erin had thrown it hard as she could. The Hob screamed and covered one eye. He swung the maul one-handed. Erin backed up. She reached for something at her belt. The Hob raised his maul.

And Erin threw a Pepper Potion vial in his other good eye. The Hob screamed. Erin yanked another knife from her belt and charged. The Hob was flailing about. She raised a fist and aimed at his unarmored stomach.

“[Minotaur Punch]!”

The Hob folded over. Erin slashed up and cut at the Hob’s throat. He tried to block her. Her knife slashed across his fingers, cutting deep. He screamed and bled. Hot blood splattered Erin’s arm, her right cheek. The Hob tried to swing his maul, blinded. Erin stabbed.

The knife went between his fingers and into the Hobgoblin’s throat. The Goblin gurgled. He knocked Erin flat with a swing, but his arm had no force behind it. Still, Erin went tumbling. She cut herself lightly with the knife as she fell and scrambled up. She looked for the Hob—

And found he was on his knees. He was trying to stop the blood flowing from his cut throat. He gurgled, blinded. Erin stared down at him.

The Goblin died there. He was the second Goblin she’d killed. Erin stared at his body as the Cave Goblins rushed past her, seizing the moment of weakness. She stood there, staring at the Hobgoblin’s body until a Cave Goblin screamed at her. Then she realized the Hobgoblin was getting up.

“Oh no.”

Erin had a second frying pan at her belt. She grabbed it and began hitting the Hob on the head. Cave Goblins joined her. Erin hammered at the Hob’s head. It began deforming. She felt something crack and a Cave Goblin bashed the Hob’s brains in. Erin stumbled back as the zombie stopped moving for good. She tried to throw up.

But then she was fighting. It was automatic. Erin had a knife in one hand, the frying pan in the other. Zombies were attacking with Goblins. And Erin was in the first line of Cave Goblins. She was no warrior. But as Calruz had told her, she had talent.

Throw the pan. It bounced off the head of a Goblin warrior in black armor, stunning him. The knife followed, and a Goblin screamed as it appeared on her leather armor, just above the shoulder. Erin yanked a potion from her belt.

“Down.”

The Cave Goblins around her ducked. Erin threw the bottle over the heads of the Goblins and heard Goblins screaming. The fiery pot of burning oil burst and coated undead and Goblins in flame. Erin reached for another object and came up with a Tripvine bag.

She didn’t have many weapons, but she had enough. Vines burst forwards, ensnaring the undead and a few Cave Goblins. Erin ran forwards. She had a club from somewhere. A fallen Goblin? She cracked a zombie’s head and tripped another one.

Fighting. She was little better than a Cave Goblin. But she had reach. Potions. Alchemist’s weapons. And the Cave Goblins fought to protect her. Erin didn’t know when she stumbled back to catch her breath. But she was wounded. Someone had cut her across the belly. It hurt. She drank half a healing potion and looked around.

“Here.”

A Cave Goblin clutching at his nearly sawn-off arm looked up. Erin bent. The world spun. She bit the inside of her lip and offered him the potion. He let her pour it on his arm. Erin stood up.

“We have to keep fighting. Follow me.”

She ran. This time the Cave Goblins followed her. All of them. They charged past Erin. The Goblin Lord’s army was trying to hold a hill. Erin threw a smoke bag and blinded the Goblins on the other side of the hill, then charged up the slope. She had to see. Wasn’t that the point?

Cave Goblins grappled with Goblins in black armor. Erin punched a Goblin and struck another with the spiked mace she held. She lashed out at another and turned.

Now she saw. Billowing smoke from the alchemist bag cleared. She saw the Goblin Lord’s army fighting on the hills, loosing showers of arrows. Undead and Goblins fighting. Rag’s tribe was holding them back. But where—

There. The Redfangs were ahead of her. Headscratcher was leading the way, roaring. He was still pushing forwards, despite the wounds on his body. Shorthilt was following him. Numbtongue had pulled back—it was his tribe that Erin was fighting with. Rabbiteater was to the right, holding the Goblin Lord back. Badarrow was camped on another hill. She saw his archers loosing arrows, shooting down the Goblin Lord’s warriors trying to attack them from the side, then another volley of arrows shot towards the Goblin Lord’s troops.

“We’re losing.”

Erin didn’t need to be a [Strategist] to see it. She stared at the lines of Goblins. They were losing. There were too many of the Goblin Lord’s warriors. And the undead! The undead were practically numberless. So long as they kept rising—Erin squinted at a coven of Goblin [Mages]. They were hiding on a hill far distant, out of even Badarrow’s range.

“Someone has to kill those [Necromancers]. Pisces told me—the undead will attack everyone if they die! Tell Badarrow!”

She shouted. The Cave Goblins looked at her. One of them turned and shouted. Erin saw the message flicker back to Badarrow in less than a minute. The Hobgoblin turned. He saw Erin and nodded. He aimed and pointed.

His Cave Goblins turned. They drew back and loosed as one. Badarrow’s arrow flew with a hail of others. The [Mages] turned. They saw the deadly arrows falling towards them and didn’t flinch. Erin saw a shimmer in the air and the arrows snapped and bounced off something.

“Shields.”

Badarrow loosed another arrow. This one didn’t arc. It went straight across from his hill towards the [Necromancer]. The shield protecting the Goblin mages must not have been able to block it. One of them spun and fell. The other [Shamans] backed up and one raised another barrier. Badarrow shot arrow after arrow, but they bounced off the new shield. He turned and directed his archer’s fire at the Goblin Warriors now assailing his hill.

“Someone has to take them out.”

Erin stared at the mages. They weren’t all just [Necromancers]. Some were hurling fire, or casting clouds of noxious gas at the Flooded Waters tribe and the Redfangs. Erin eyed the distance between them and her.

“Shorthilt.”

She was about to shout for him. Then she looked around. Something—someone was roaring. So loudly that it carried even over the raging sound of battle. Erin’s head turned.

And then she saw him. A huge Hobgoblin, at least nine feet tall. Maybe even taller. His body looked like a mass of muscles. And he was leading a group of Hobgoblins, all larger than normal. Straight towards Headscratcher.

“Headscratcher!”

The Redfang [Berserker] didn’t hear Erin’s warning. But he couldn’t have missed Eater of Spears. The Hobgoblin punched his way through a rank of Cave Goblins who swarmed around him. He kicked and they disappeared.

“You.”

Eater of Spears pointed. Headscratcher bared his teeth. he roared and charged. His enchanted axe swung. The glowing, expanded edge cut through the air in a wild swing. Eater of Spears leaned back. Headscratcher tried to bring his axe back. In that moment Eater of Spears punched.

Headscratcher landed. He didn’t remember flying. He tried to get up and realized he was on his back. His arms and legs flailed. He stood up, looked for his axe.

It was missing. Headscratcher got up groggily. Eater of Spears was walking towards him. His Hobs was cutting down the Cave Goblins around Headscratcher. His Cave Goblins. Eater of Spears grabbed a warhammer one of his warriors handed him and swept it in an arc. Cave Goblins went flying, broken, and shattered. A copy of Headscratcher’s assault.

“No.”

Headscratcher got up. He roared, and charged Eater of Spears barehanded. The Hobgoblin raised a fist. Headscratcher ducked and felt the blow snap his ear. He ignored the pain and struck.

One blow. Two. The fury in Headscratcher burned. He struck Eater of Spears in the stomach. Five times, six times. The Hobgoblin grunted. He bent slightly. Headscratcher struck him and felt the huge Hobgoblins ribs creak. He swung—

Eater of Spear’s uppercut cracked half of Headscratcher’s ribs. Broke others. The Hob doubled over. The huge Hobgoblin stomped on him and then kicked. Headscratcher tumbled. Eater of Spears advanced on him as the Cave Goblins tried to shield Headscratcher. He waded through them, barely noticing their blades as they cut at his legs and lower body.

“Stop.”

The muscle-bound Hobgoblin turned as he bent for Headscratcher. He saw a young woman standing with an army of Cave Goblins. She pointed and they charged Eater of Spears’ Hobs, holding them back. Eater of Spears stared at Erin and then he reached for his belt. She threw what she was holding.

A bottle, glowing bright yellow. The alchemical weapon flew towards Eater of Spears’ head. His eyes went wide. The Hobgoblin leaned to the left and the bottle flew past him.

“What?”

Erin stared up at him. Eater of Spears calmly drew the throwing axe from his belt.

“[Unerring Throw]? Nice Skill. Perfect shot. Only works if I hold still.”

He lifted the throwing axe. Erin’s eyes went wide. She dove. Eater of Spears took aim—

And an arrow sprouted from his chest. He barely flinched. But it made his throw go wide. A Cave Goblin died instead of the young woman. Eater of Spears looked up and raised a forearm. Badarrow’s second arrow sprouted from his arm.

“Nice shots.”

Eater of Spears grabbed the second axe from his belt, calmly ignoring the arrows, most of which broke without even penetrating his skin. He turned towards Erin and raised the second axe.

Someone tackled him. Eater of Spears grunted and took a step back. He looked down. It was Headscratcher. The Hob howled as he pushed. Eater of Spears tried to kick him, but the Hob was strong. Eater of Spears chopped down with his axe and Headscratcher lurched left. Eater of Spears kicked him down again.

Another arrow struck his arm. Eater of Spears growled. He lowered his arm, turned his head. Where—

There. Erin Solstice stood poised, arm cocked back. The bag flew into the air. Eater of Spears sighed. He dodged and the Tripvine Bag exploded harmlessly somewhere behind him.

“I told you.”

He raised his axe. Erin nodded.

“Yeah. You did.”

Eater of Spears’ arm drew back. He aimed at Erin, expecting her to dodge. But she was still. Why was—

Below him, a little Cave Goblin threw the vial it was holding straight up. Eater of Spears saw it coming and his head jerked back. But the little bottle was uncorked. And the concentrated Pepper Potion flew up his nose. Into his eyes.

Eater of Spears screamed. Erin saw his hands go up and claw at his face. The Hob, who had ignored swords and arrows without so much as flinching, howled and clawed at his face. The Cave Goblin scrambled back as Eater of Spears flailed wildly with the axe in his hand.

“Got him! Headscratcher!”

The [Innkeeper] turned and looked for her friend. The Hob was getting up. Headscratcher downed the healing potion, and stood up. A Cave Goblin held something up. His axe. He turned towards Eater of Spears. The giant was still roaring. Headscratcher activated the enchantment on his axe. He burst towards Eater of Spears with a roar—

And Eater of Spears charged.

He ran straight ahead, straight towards Erin. Headscratcher swung at him and the axe bit into Eater of Spears’ side, but the giant was moving too fast. Eater of Spears came up the hill and Erin dove.

“Run!”

The Cave Goblins scrambled out of the way. But Eater of Spears kept going. He ran up the hills, swinging his arms, sending Cave Goblins flying. He kept going, tripping, falling down the hill, standing up, running forwards.

Straight into the Flooded Waters tribe. The Goblins saw Eater of Spears coming and turned. They raised their pikes, set themselves. Erin watched Eater of Spears crash into the pikes. The metal tips dug into his flesh—

And the pikes splintered. The Goblins holding them were thrown back. Eater of Spears threw them aside. He bashed in a Hob’s skull with one flailing fist, struck at the Goblins with the throwing axe in his hand. On he went. The Goblins in front of him ran out of the way or died.

“Oh my god!”

Erin shouted. Eater of Spears just kept going! He could barely see, but it didn’t matter. He ran straight through Rag’s tribe, sending Goblins flying. They couldn’t kill him!

But they had bought a reprieve. Shakily, Erin turned. Headscratcher was bent, clutching his ribs.

“Headscratcher.”

“Go! Go back!”

Headscratcher shouted at Erin. He waved his axe and she stopped. Then she realized. They were too close to the fighting with Eater of Spears’ warriors. Headscratcher wanted her to go back. To be safe.

“No!”

Erin shouted at Headscratcher. He waved his axe at her.

“Go. Please?”

“No.”

The young woman shook her head. She looked around. The Cave Goblins were rallying on her. Headscratcher’s group, Numbtongue’s…they were following her.

“I can’t go. We have to stop them! The mages!”

Erin pointed at the hill. The undead were still rising. And they were truly pushing back the Solstice Goblins now. Headscratcher nodded. He pointed and the Cave Goblins streamed towards the hill. He ran ahead of Erin, swinging his axe.

But there was a wall of Goblins between them and the hilltop where the mages stood. Reiss’ Hobs barred the path, and what was worse, Draug. Erin saw the first huge undead Hobgoblin crushing bodies like grapes and even Headscratcher had to slow to battle them.

“Keep going! We have to keep going!”

Erin shouted as she hunted at her belt for another potion. Another of Octavia’s weapons. Anything. But she didn’t have any more tricks. And the Goblins—

They were aiming at her and Headscratcher now. One threw a [Fireball] and it sent Cave Goblins flying. Another shot what looked like poison gas from his wand. Erin covered her mouth and screamed at the Cave Goblins to run. But they were fighting undead, who didn’t even notice. They didn’t need to breathe or see.

It was impossible. They’d never make it. But they had to. They had to. Erin stared at the Goblin [Mages]. They were aiming again. Someone had to do something.

“Someone—”

And then the skies flashed. Erin saw the light. She heard the roar. The hilltop with the [Mages] vanished. Erin stumbled backwards as noise and light burst, deafening and blinding her. She couldn’t hear anything for a while. When she could see again she looked up.

The [Mages] were gone. A few were trying to get up, but over half had been charred. The rest had been sent flying. By what? Erin saw another flash.

Lightning. She looked around and saw another bolt blast into the ranks of the Goblin Lord’s forces. Goblins and Hobs went flying. And then another bolt of lightning fell. And another.

“Who? What?”

Erin scrambled onto a hilltop to see. Who was casting the magic? Who—and then she saw.

On a distant hilltop. Far, far from the battle he stood. His arms were raised. The sky was dark and clouds gathered above his head. Bursts of electricity shot from his raised hands. They arced upwards and lightning flashed down. The Goblin [Mage] laughed as he pointed and lightning struck.

Noears stood on the roof of Erin’s inn, on the shattered third floor where Bird’s tower had been. He stood alone. And each bolt of lightning he called down from the heavens was minutes apart. But the force in each one was overwhelming. It was lightning magic. Pure lightning, not conjured from his hands. But how was he doing it?

“The inn.”

Erin stared at her inn. She could feel it. Dimly, at the back of her mind. Her inn was where Noears stood. Empty. Abandoned. It had been deserted, stripped of everything. Adventurers. Guests. And her magic door.

The magic door that could teleport someone a hundred miles away to Celum, or even further, to Pallass. A magic door fueled by the mana from her inn. Only, it wasn’t there. And now, all the mana normally used by the magic door, all the power was his.

“Noears!”

The [Mage] couldn’t see her. He was pointed at the sky. Another bolt of lightning arced down. Straight towards the Goblin Lord. Reiss looked up and raised a hand.

A spire of bone caught the lightning, exploding just over Reiss’ head. He turned and pointed.

“[Deathbolt].”

The black magic sped across the battlefield. But even Reiss’ aim was insufficient. Noears laughed as the spell went wide of him by twenty feet. His arms trembled as they rose.

“More! More lightning!”

His arms tingled. Noears shot more electricity towards the sky. Charging the air. He had to keep the lightning falling. But it was so hard. And he was so far away. Sweat streamed down his face. Each time he called a bolt of lightning down, even with the excess mana, he felt his heart stopping and skipping beats. The pain—

He had to do it. Another bolt arced down from the heavens. It blew apart Reiss’ warriors. But it had missed its target—Snapjaw and her riders. Noears stumbled. His vision greyed. He pointed at the sky. He had to keep casting. Empty mana bottles lay at his feet. He had charged the air. He had to bring down more lightning. Had to—

A bolt of lightning fell from the skies. It landed among a group of Hobs. Noears lowered his hand and stared. He hadn’t called that one. What was—

He heard a song. It echoed across the hills. Noears looked and saw him.

He stood on top of a hill, surrounded by the others. Cave Goblins, holding instruments. They played with him, following his melody. The sound shouldn’t have carried across the battlefield. But it did. The Hob played on his guitar and electricity danced across the chords. He played and the lightning flashed down.

Once. Twice. Numbtongue ignored the fighting around him. Reiss’ warriors tried to swarm up the hill and his Goblins held them back. The Hob played and called the lightning. His Goblins played with them, a song of thunder.

Noears grinned. He raised his burning arms to the sky and electricity shot from his fingers. It arced into the clouds and came down. It was undirected until Numbtongue gave it form. Noears poured all the mana in his body, all of his power into the sky.

“Rain it down! Bring him down!”

He screamed to Numbtongue. And though he was too far away, he knew Numbtongue understood. Lightning flashed down across the Goblin Lord’s army. Reiss looked up as more lightning fell.

“What is that? A Goblin [Bard]? They don’t exist. How? How are they doing this? Destroy them already.”

Az’kerash’s voice shook. Spires of bone rose upwards, catching the falling lightning. But the cost of defending against the lightning meant less of the Necromancer’s power could go towards the undead. The ceaseless stream of bodies began to slow.

But still. It didn’t matter. Reiss looked across the battlefield and saw the Flooded Waters tribe, the Cave Goblins, even the Redfangs were stuck. They were struggling, but they still couldn’t advance. They had slowed. And like flies in a spider’s web, they were caught.

—-

“Just by numbers.”

Zevara stood on her walls. The Watch Captain stared at the fighting Goblins, feeling sick. She looked up as more stones fell towards her walls.

“Cover!”

She sheltered herself, feeling the thud of impacts. Hearing a [Guardswoman] cry out in agony and then go silent. But the majority of the stones hadn’t even hit her walls. They were all clustered on one spot.

“The eastern gates are falling.”

Zevara got up. She stared at Klbkch. The Revalantor hadn’t bothered to duck. He was standing on the walls with the Soldiers, watching the battle. He hadn’t looked away once.

“I know.”

That was all Zevara said. The metal was folding, bending inwards. A few more hits—one direct one—and it might completely fall inwards. And the stone was—cracked. The walls might come down.

The walls of Liscor. How could it happen? The Humans were using enchanted munitions, true. And they had been volleying endlessly since the battle began. But still.

“It won’t be the same. Now they have siege weapons, they’ll be able to take Liscor. The other cities.”

Zevara stared at the Human army. Klbkch didn’t turn his head.

“The Goblin Lord is winning.”

“Yes.”

The Watch Captain wrenched her gaze away from the Human army. She had a bitter taste in her mouth as she stared at the Solstice Goblins. If they had managed to take him out—but they could delay him. Weaken his army, at least.

“So many undead. How powerful is that Goblin Lord?”

“Powerful. As strong as the ones who rode with Velan.”

The words chilled Zevara. But Klbkch would know. She stared at the army of Goblins.

“They’re not going to make it. They’re surrounded.”

“They must. She is there.”

“They can’t, Klbkch. They need—something. They can’t do it. Not alone.”

Zevara looked around helplessly. The [Guardsmen] of Liscor, the adventurers stared at Zevara. They gazed out across the Floodplains, towards the fighting Goblins.

Not one of them moved. Halrac gritted his teeth as he stared at Erin. Typhenous bowed his head. Below, in the Hive of the Free Antinium, the Free Queen listened through Klbkch.

“They are going to lose.”

“No.”

Belgrade spoke involuntarily. He shuddered as the Free Queen and the puppet used by the five Queens looked at him. The Grand Queen’s voice was imperious.

“Why not? This is the desired outcome. These Goblins were not projected as part of the plan.”

“But Erin is there.”

“So? What is an Erin and why does it matter? The Human?”

Belgrade ignored the Grand Queen. He stared down at the map, longing to be above. If he could be there. If he could go—he looked despairingly at Anand. The other [Tactician]’s head was bowed. But his gaze was not despairing as he looked up.

“It is not over yet.”

Belgrade stared down at the map. It was over to him. There was no way the Solstice Goblins, Erin’s side could win.

“How do you know?”

“Because it is her. Erin. Belgrade, it is not over yet.”

The [Tactician] reached out and gripped Belgrade’s shoulders with one of his four arms.

“Believe.”

The two Workers stared at each other. And then Belgrade looked at the map. He closed his mandibles and looked up. Then his head turned.

“Where’s Pawn?”

—-

“Please.”

Pawn stood with Yellow Splatters. They were positioned near the entrance to the Hive. The public entrance, that was. The Painted Soldiers were stationed there, ready to fight the rear-guard action when Liscor fell. They were waiting. Waiting for the city to fall.

But the Worker stood with them. Pawn clutched his censer tied to his walking stick in his four hands. He looked up at Yellow Splatters. The [Sergeant] stood with Purple Smile, at the head of the Painted Soldiers. Yellow Splatters’ arms were crossed.

“She is out there. She is leading the Goblins. They’re fighting. For her. Erin is out there. She needs our help. The Goblin Lord will win. He will—he will kill her. Please.”

Yellow Splatters did not move. The big Soldier hadn’t moved. Even after Pawn had explained what was going on. It was not that he didn’t care. He was listening, as hard as he ever had to Pawn’s please. But he was conflicted.

The Goblins were fighting. Erin Solstice was among them. She was trying to defend Liscor. And because she was there, Pawn had come to him. To Yellow Splatters and the Painted Soldiers. To beg them to defy Klbkch and their Queen. To fight a battle against the Goblin Lord, against the Grand Queen’s orders.

All for Erin. Pawn had asked them to fight, and because they were Soldiers, die. For her. But how could Yellow Splatters ever agree?

It was not their fight. Yellow Splatters looked down the line of Painted Soldiers. It was not their battle. Moreover, it was not a situation where the Antinium would survive. There were hundreds of thousands of Goblins. The Painted Soldiers were six hundred strong, and of that number, only two hundred were ‘old’. They had levels, but they were all under Level 20.

They couldn’t win. They would die, and for what? Friendship? A warm meal? A…smile?

It wasn’t enough. How could you weigh the lives of the Antinium like that? Yellow Splatters looked at Pawn. He didn’t have to explain any of it. Pawn knew. The Worker bowed his head. He had tried for half-an-hour to reason with Yellow Splatters. To no avail. The other Soldiers were restless, but they followed Yellow Splatters in this.

“Please.”

It wasn’t enough. Yellow Splatters didn’t move. He stared down at Pawn. The Worker clutched at his censer. He sought for words, spoke in a trembling voice.

“I know. I know how much I’m asking. I know it’s just one person. I know she’s not Antinium. I know. Even if the Goblins are our—our friends. Even then, I know what it would cost. But Erin…”

He broke off, shaking his head. The Painted Soldiers were all listening. They stood straight, motionless, waiting for orders. But they listened like Yellow Splatters. They judged. They decided, where they had obeyed. It was a terrifying thing.

The Worker went on. He spoke to Yellow Splatters, his voice numb.

“It’s her. She made me, me. I owe her everything. We do. If she dies…if she dies, what purpose have I? She told me of faith. She played chess with me. She was kind when no one else was. If she dies—how could I live? How could I continue?”

The Soldiers stirred. Yellow Splatters hesitated. Pawn looked up at him. The Antinium did not cry, but there was no need for tears. All Yellow Splatters had to do was look in his eyes.

“I have no right to ask it of you. But I am no Soldier. And you are. I beg you. All of you. There is no good reason I can give. Only that she must not die. Please. She gave me everything.”

He bowed his head. Spent. Pawn sank to his knees. He was empty. Helpless. He wished he could fight. But alone he was useless. As useless as he had ever been.

He began to curl up. And a part of him wept inside, though he had never known tears. Pawn sank lower and lower. Until a hand reached down. Yellow Splatters gripped Pawn by the shoulders. The Worker looked up.

The Soldier stood above him. An impassive face. Tearing mandibles. A deep gaze. Yellow Splatters turned. The bright splats of paint on his body caught the light. He looked down the ranks of Painted Soldiers as Pawn slowly rose.

Slowly Yellow Splatters stepped forwards. The Painted Soldiers waited. He raised one finger. Pointed down the line of Soldiers. The meaning was clear.

One hundred.

The Painted Soldiers held still. They waited, and for a second Pawn despaired. He feared none would volunteer. But then a hundred moved.

A hundred Soldiers. They were the not the hundred closest to Yellow Splatters. They stepped out of line, in pairs, alone, in large groups. Seemingly at random. But as Pawn looked down the line for Soldiers, at the hundred chosen, he understood.

They were the first. The ones who had heard Pawn’s stories, the ones who had survived the mass suicide. The oldest. None of them were more than three years old.

Yellow Splatters nodded. He turned, and the Soldiers stepped into line behind him. Purple Smile moved. He looked uncertainly at Yellow Splatters. The [Sergeant] nodded to him. Purple Smile nodded slowly.

That was all. Pawn stared at the Soldiers. Yellow Splatters began to walk. They followed him, abandoning their posts. Disobeying direct orders from their Queen. The Hive.

Going to battle.

Words could not express what Yellow Splatters was feeling. He walked, feeling death in the air. Death, sadness, determination, a giddy excitement at betraying his hive. But strangely, no regret. He marched ahead, through the Hive, until he realized someone was following him. He halted and the Painted Soldiers stopped with him. He stared at Pawn and held an arm out. The Worker stopped, and placed one of his hands on Yellow Splatter’s arm.

“I’m going with you.”

Shock. The other Soldiers stared. Yellow Splatters shook his head. Unacceptable. Pawn was…everything. He had brought the Painted Soldiers freedom. Without him—he was to them what Erin was to him. But Pawn refused to be moved.

“You can’t stop me. You’ll need my prayers. It might help. And I can shout to Erin.”

It made sense. But Yellow Splatters refused to budge. He blocked Pawn’s way. The Worker looked into the [Sergeant]’s eyes.

“I can’t ask you to do this without going as well.”

But if you die—

Yellow Splatters wanted to speak. More than anything, in that moment he wanted to say something. But he had no words. And as he thought them, he realized what he was saying. It was what Pawn had said.

Slowly, the [Sergeant] turned. The Painted Soldiers stared at his back, but Yellow Splatters just kept marching. Slowly, Pawn fell in beside him. The two walked in silence. But Yellow Splatters was happy to have Pawn. Happy. Afraid. He felt alive.

This was how the Painted Soldiers went.

They marched through the dark tunnels, past Workers and other Soldiers who turned to watch. Each Soldier was alone with their thoughts, and each was together. They followed Yellow Splatters, followed Pawn upwards, out of the secret tunnels.

To death. But the Soldiers thought little of that. They had been asked and they had answered. Instead, as the ground sloped upwards, the Soldiers looked up. Bright light shone on their faces, and they smiled, then. Even if the smile was only in their hearts.

It was good to see the sky.

—-

They were losing the battle. Laken listened to the reports coming to his position with a sinking heart. He could only imagine the battle. He could hear distant sounds, the sound of thunder. And around him, the thumping of trebuchets. But nothing else. He bowed his head.

A young woman leading Goblins. An army opposing the Goblin Lord. Here he was. There was good and evil here. Perhaps not right and wrong, but a choice to be made. He looked up.

“Gamel.”

He felt a touch at his arm. Gamel stood by his [Emperor]. Laken tilted his head towards the sky. He could hear only screams. Death. But he thought he knew what had to be done.

“Get me Tessia. Now.”

Gamel ran. Laken stayed where he was. He kept listening. Lord Tyrion was aiming for the gates. He wanted them down and the walls breached by the time the Goblin Lord was finished. The Cave Goblins were dying. The other tribes were being pushed back. They were losing. There was no hope.

—-

“No.”

Rags slid from her saddle. She had arrived too late. Too late. She stood on the cliff, at the edge of the Floodplains. She had come so far. So far, at such speed. But it was too late.

The battle was underway. And even so far away, Rags could see. Her tribe was losing. They were fighting with the Redfangs, with the strange grey Goblins. But they were outnumbered, retreating. And Reiss kept advancing. Even the lightning wasn’t slowing his forces.

“Chieftain. What do we do?”

Rags turned. She saw a few hundred of Tremborag’s Goblins, eight Redfangs, Pyrite, Ulvama, and Garen looking to her. Garen was holding his crimson blade. His teeth were bared and his Carn Wolf was growling. But the Hobgoblin had a grip on his wolf’s mouth, preventing it from howling.

Because of the Humans. Their army was in front of the Goblins. A vast host, infantry, trebuchets, [Mages], and cavalry. They were spread out—Tyrion’s riders in front, the trebuchets in the middle and infantry surrounding them at the back. Rags could see tens of thousands of [Soldiers] in ranks. Waiting to move in.

They were between her and her tribe. There was no way they’d be able to get around them. Garen shifted.

“Could run past. Me and Redfangs.”

“No. You die. And we die.”

Rags shook her head. Garen had barely slipped past them once, and that was with a hundred of his warriors in the cover of night. When they were on the move? Now? They would be dead before they even cleared the trebuchets. She stared at her tribe.

“Have to do something. Have to.”

“Chieftain. We can fight. Cause distraction.”

One of Tremborag’s Hobs offered. Pyrite shook his head.

“Not big enough distraction. Need one to occupy army. Especially—him.”

He pointed at Tyrion Veltras. The Hob was staring at the battle. He had hold of his battleaxe and he was strong enough to lift it. He was restless. They all were. But Rags couldn’t figure out what to do.

How? How could she save her tribe? She burned to race towards them. But that was death. Rags bowed her head. By the time they went around the cliffs, it would be too late by hours. Could they really cause a distraction? With what? Ulvama’s spells? She had nothing strong enough? What if—

Memory. Something tugged at Rags’ mind. A thought. She looked around and recalled something.

Long ago. A skeleton racing out of a cliff. Enchanted armor. Crossbows. Dropclaw bats. A bunch of cursed amulets. And—

A cave. Rags looked up. She stared around and then saw it.

“There.”

Her Goblins stared. They looked at a little cave set into the stone. Rags pointed at it.

“What is it?”

“Cave. Leads to dungeon.”

Rags explained to Garen and Pyrite. Her heart was racing. She had no idea if the dungeon led towards Liscor. But maybe—

Garen’s eyes were troubled. The Hobgoblin shifted restlessly.

“Dungeon is very dangerous. Without [Rogue], will die to traps.”

“What about Chieftain good with rocks? What other choice is there?”

Pyrite questioned the Redfang Chieftain. Garen eyed him, but said nothing. Rags leapt down the cliff.

“Go!”

The Goblins entered the cave cautiously. They looked up for Dropclaw bats, but there were none. They must have all flown off. Rags led the way. She was desperate, still despairing inside. They’d never make it. How long would it take them to find a way through the dungeon? But if—

She paused as she entered the main cave and looked around. Something was wrong. Someone had been living here. There were scorch marks on the ground, trash. Signs of habitation.

“A tribe lived here? Or old trash from your tribe?”

Garen frowned around the cave. Rags shook her head.

“Huh. New.”

Pyrite bent down and sniffed at some leftover charcoal. He straightened, frowning about, and then his keen eyes narrowed.

“There.”

He pointed. There was a sound. Rags turned. Garen’s Carn Wolf growled and the Hobgoblin pointed.

“Goblin.”

A little Goblin flinched and cowered against the rocks. She’d hid herself by a plank of wood. Rags blinked. Garen’s wolf growled, but the Hobgoblin held it still. Rags looked at Pyrite. The Goblin was very small, barely more than a child. And her skin was…grey.

“Me?”

“No, me.”

Rags put out an arm and stopped Pyrite. She approached the Cave Goblin slowly. The little Goblin cowered. She was holding something red in her hands. And she’d been lying on something. It looked like a dirty, white…hat?

“Hello?”

Rags halted as the Cave Goblin flinched away from her. The Chieftain of the Flooded Waters tribe blinked down at Pebblesnatch. The little Goblin looked up. Rags was barely taller than her.

“I am Rags. Flooded Waters tribe Chieftain. Who you?”

The Cave Goblin froze with panic. But then she gabbled her name. Rags frowned.

“Why you alone? You live here? Where other Goblins? Tribe?”

Pebblesnatch was too afraid to speak. Rags squatted by her, trying to demand answers, but the little Goblin was petrified. She kept staring at Garen and his Carn Wolf for some reason.

“Take too long. Want me to charm her?”

Ulvama grumbled. Pyrite stared at the [Shaman] disapprovingly. Garen stared at Ulvama’s chest. The female Hob glared at them.

“With spell.”

“Oh.”

The Hobs shook their heads. Rags glared and pointed.

“Out!”

The others left to watch the battle and figure something else out. Rags stayed. Garen did too. He was checking out the dungeon, frowning into it.

“Dungeon was cleared. Looks like statues gone.”

“Why?”

Rags was astonished. She went to look. There was a strange wall where there hadn’t been before, and a bit of it had been broken down. The statues were all gone—smashed, if the rubble was any indication. She stared around. And then, only then, did Pebblesnatch move.

The little Goblin crept up behind Rags and Garen. The two turned to look at her and she flinched and nearly fled. But she raised a trembling claw. She had the red mana stone in one hand, her chef’s hat in the other. She was afraid. But she looked at Garen. At his Carn Wolf. At the war paint that was so familiar. And she spoke a word.

“Redfang?”

The two Goblins stared at her. Rags opened her mouth, and looked at Garen. He nodded. He tapped his chest.

“Redfang.”

Pebblesnatch stared up at him. She had seen Garen fight Headscratcher, seen him flee. But she had witnessed the Humans, seen the Goblin Lord. And she knew her tribe was dying. She looked to Rags. And then she began to speak. Rags demanded answers.

“What is beyond wall? Is there way through dungeon? Fast way?”

No. No fast way. Or safe way, either. Pebblesnatch bowed her head. She was nearly in tears as she told Rags about the Raskghar, about the dungeon and the invisible much-death in the room beyond. About the secret entrances and exits, and the flooded rift. If they could go through the many trap rooms, maybe—

Rags listened, heart racing, mind blurring with fear and thoughts and impatience. And then everything crystallized. She latched onto something Pebblesnatch had said and stared at the Cave Goblin. Garen looked at her, suddenly alert. Rags stared at the wall. At the dungeon and what lay beyond. And then she turned.

“Get Pyrite. Hurry.”

—-

They were running. The Free Queen saw it through Klbkch’s eyes. She relayed the news quietly. Calmly. She felt his distress. But she kept it out of her tone.

“The Goblins are falling back. Losing ground.”

“Excellent.”

The Grand Queen and her puppet rubbed their feelers together. Her tone was smug. For that reason alone the Free Queen wished the Goblins and Erin Solstice would win. But it was impossible. How could they win? She felt Klbkch’s grip tightening on his swords and urged him silently not to move.

And then she felt it. So did Klbkch. The Revalantor slowly looked up.

“What is that?”

“What?”

Zevara glanced sharply at Klbkch. Both he and the Free Queen ignored the Watch Captain. They stared to the left. Towards an entrance into the Flood Plains only they knew. And then—

The Free Queen’s breath caught as she saw the first bodies leaving her Hive. She felt them. A hundred and two. A Worker holding a censer. A [Sergeant], larger than any other Soldier. And a hundred of the Painted Soldiers.

“What? What is going on?”

“The Painted Soldiers. They have left their positions. And so has Pawn.”

The Free Queen and Klbkch spoke the same words. Their voices were one.

“They are going to try and save Erin.”

“What?”

Zevara stared at the dark Antinium. Her eyes widened. The Grand Queen lurched upwards, alarmed.

“That is not part of the plan! Why did you order this, Free Queen?”

“I did not. They disobeyed me.”

The Free Queen spoke quietly. The five Queens went still.

“Aberration?”

“No.”

“What, then?”

The Free Queen didn’t answer. Belgrade and Anand looked up. Bird tried to sit up.

“Pawn is going? With the colorful Soldiers?”

“Yes.”

The Free Queen watched them march. She felt them in her mind. Both she and Klbkch watched them go. And they thought as one.

“Unacceptable. Unacceptable. Order them back. Recover them. The Hive cannot lose an asset. The battle must be lost. Do you hear me? Free Queen? Free Queen?”

The puppet was raising its voice and the Grand Queen spoke sharply through her scrying mirror. The Free Queen glanced towards her. And in that moment she made her decision. She bent down low, towards the puppet and opened her mandibles. The little copy of the Queen bent back. The Free Queen spoke one word.

“What?”

The Antinium in the chamber stared. The little Queen and the Grand Queen hesitated.

“What do you mean, what? I gave you orders. Carry them out.”

The Free Queen stared. She tilted her head from side to side and then shook her head.

“I did not hear that. Can you speak again? Louder? Your connection is breaking up, my Queen. I am afraid I cannot hear your orders. Hello?”

“What is the meaning of this? I said—can you hear me?”

“I can.”

“My audio reception is perfect.”

“Is something the matter? Why can the Free Queen not hear us?”

“I. Wonder why.”

“I cannot hear anything, my Queen.”

The Free Queen repeated herself loudly over the babble of voices. She looked at the Workers. Belgrade and Anand shot each other quick glances. Anand nodded.

“I believe the, uh, vessel has malfunctioned. As has the scrying glass. I am quite deaf to the Grand Queen’s orders. I cannot hear a thing.”

“Nor me.”

Belgrade nodded, his antennae waving about wildly. The Grand Queen spluttered. The Free Queen smiled.

“I hear nothing. Do you, Bird?”

The little Worker looked up at the Free Queen. His voice was small, but distinct. He looked towards the ceiling. Towards the marching Soldiers.

“I hear laughter. They’re laughing. And so are you.”

The elation in the Free Queen turned to surprise. Shock. She stared down at Bird, tuning out the Grand Queen. Had he just—

The Free Queen kept looking at Bird. Her mandibles opened, and then her head turned. Her attention snapped back to Klbkch. Above, she saw the reaction to the Painted Soldiers play out, on the walls, on the battlefield, and across the world.

—-

“What in the name of love are those things?”

“Send word to Lord Veltras! The Antinium are on the march!”

“It’s only a hundred! Only—”

The Human army stared as the Antinium emerged seemingly from the ground. Tyrion Veltras stared as the Painted Antinium marched forwards, across the Floodplains.

“Jericha. What are those Antinium? A new variant?”

“They’re—we sighted them around Liscor previously but—we have no knowledge of them, Lord Veltras. They’re…new.”

“New?”

Tyrion stared at the Soldiers. They looked just like ordinary Soldiers. But the paint on their bodies. That was different. On any other species, he would dismiss it as decoration. But the Antinium had no decoration.

“There are only a hundred of them.”

“But are they going to reinforce the Goblins? Attack both sides? What?”

“We should ready a defense. Just in case. Attack them from afar, even. If they close—”

Tyrion turned to the arguing [Strategists].

“No. We hold back. Watch them.”

His words were unnecessary. Everyone was watching the strange new Antinium. Tyrion turned back to the battle. It was just a hundred. They couldn’t do a thing. He knew that intellectually. But for the first time since this battle had begun he began to grow vaguely uneasy.

And on they came.

—-

“Is that Pawn?”

Ceria stared down at the Antinium from the walls. She recognized the Worker. The other adventurers craned over the battlements, keeping a watchful eye out for more falling stones.

“It is Pawn! What is he doing? Has everyone gone mad?”

“Pawn, get back here!”

Jelaqua bellowed at the Worker. But if he heard, he never slowed. He was marching with the others. Ceria vaguely recognized Yellow Splatters. She turned to Ksmvr to ask what they were doing. And stopped. Ksmvr was staring down at the Painted Soldiers. And he looked far away.

“Ksmvr? Ksmvr?”

The former Prognugator didn’t turn. He opened his mandibles slowly.

“Yes, Ceria?”

“What are Pawn and the Soldiers doing? They’re not fighting, are they?”

“They are.”

“But they’ll die!”

“Yes.”

The Antinium looked up. His mandible opened and he straightened. He looked down at the Painted Antinium as the Drakes and Gnolls looked down. The adventurers stood together. Ksmvr’s nodded.

“That is what they are doing. Dying.”

—-

At first the Goblins didn’t notice them. They were harrying the retreating Solstice Goblins, pressing them back. It wasn’t easy. The Flooded Waters tribe was dug in. The Redfangs fought like demons. And the Cave Goblins refused to buckle. But by numbers they were losing. Eater of Spears was cutting back. Snapjaw was attacking from the flanks, skirmishing with the Redfangs. And Reiss had created a shield of bone spires. Now he was directing the undead to attack.

So it was little wonder that the Antinium weren’t spotted by the Goblins on either side at first. There were only a hundred. But they were different.

They marched in ranks of five abreast, Yellow Splatters and Pawn in the lead. Each Soldier’s body was marked by paint. Each was unique.

A flower drawn in black paint with white petals. Raindrops, the first ever seen. A series of numbers without reason. Words painted in every color that had meaning only to the Soldier who’d drawn it.

Their march was steady. Quick. And as they marched, they listened. The Goblins were ahead of them. But it was not on them the Painted Soldiers focused. It was on the Worker who marched at their head. Pawn swung the censer, his voice loud. The censer burned cinnamon. The sweet smoke drifted across the Soldiers.

Time seemed slow to him. Despite the urgency of their pace, Pawn felt like each moment was forever. Was this Erin’s [Immortal Moment]? His words echoed in his mind, across the Soldiers.

“We are going to war. We are going to fight, though this is not our battle.”

Click.

The Soldier’s mandibles snapped together as one. Pawn heard the sound reverberate through his soul. He went on. His voice was shaking.

“We pray not for victory. We pray only that we might live. That we survive. That Erin lives. That our friends live.”

Click.

The Goblin Lord’s army had seen them now. Reiss turned on the back of his Shield Spider. His master uttered the first curse word he had spoken in three years. Reiss stared, and then pointed.

Goblins in black armor moved to set themselves against the Antinium. They stared uneasily at the insect-people. But [Archers] were already moving. A thousand Goblins set themselves in place. Enough. The Painted Soldiers’ pace never wavered. Pawn continued, staring at the Goblins as they slowly took positions. They were so far away, still.

“There are no gods for us to pray to. None that will listen to the Antinium. None that will care. We are alone. But we are still Antinium.”

Click.

“So. Pray not to gods, but believe in each other. Fight, and survive. Believe that Heaven awaits. Arrows shall pierce our bodies. Steel rend our chitin. We will bleed and perish. But believe. We may fall, but we will find Heaven afterwards. Even if it only exists in our minds. And know that you will be remembered forever.”

Click. Now the Goblins were ready. A ripple went through their ranks. They were raising bows, aiming. A Goblin [Mage] conjured fire. Pawn’s grip tightened on his staff. He shouted the last words, or perhaps they shouted themselves.

“For so long as one Antinium lives, we shall never be forgotten.”

Click.

There was no signal. No command. The Painted Soldiers saw the Goblins draw back. Their pace quickened. The march turned into a run. Then a sprint. The Goblins aimed. They loosed as one. Pawn was running. He raised his staff up. The censer released smoke. And the arrows flew.

The Painted Soldiers charged. The Goblins were hundreds of paces away yet. But the arrows were falling. Like rain. They landed among the Soldiers, hundreds of them. First one volley, then another. The Goblin Lord’s archers never stopped firing. But the Soldiers ran on. They had no shields to protect them. Only an invisible thing.

Faith.

Believe. Believe they would survive to meet the Goblins. The first arrow struck a Soldier on the shoulder. It did not pierce far, but the tip cut past the shell of the Soldier. Blood ran down his chest. Still he ran.

Arrows fell among the Soldiers. They touched them. The Antinium bled. But none fell.

Perhaps it was a miracle. The arrows seemed to be missing. Or maybe it was the mud, the fighting. Poor visibility, a chance gust of wind.

The Goblins stared. They had expected a few Soldiers to fall. But the arrows were missing. And the Soldiers were drawing closer. The front rank of Hobs shifted uneasily. The Soldiers were as big as they were. And the one in front was bigger than the rest, or so it seemed. But they were Hobs. They held their ground. And the Antinium ran faster.

Pawn was in front. He didn’t know if he was screaming. He didn’t realize he’d outdistanced the others, even Yellow Splatters. He ran at the front rank of Goblins and then realized. He didn’t have a weapon!

The first Hobgoblin in black armor was turning, eyes wide. He had never seen the Antinium before. Pawn started to slow. The Hobgoblin had a mace. It raised it to strike at the Worker. Yellow Splatters charged past Pawn. His first fist struck the Hob across the face. The second grabbed the mace hand. Two more blows struck the Hob and the Goblin fell.

Pawn saw the Goblins turn. One struck at Yellow Splatters with a sword. The Soldier punched and the Goblin fell back, his face broken. A Soldier crashed into the Goblins next to Pawn. Another leapt. The Hobs looked up and a Soldier landed, crushing one with a knee. And ninety eight more charged past the rest.

It shouldn’t have mattered. They were only a hundred. A hundred bodies. A hundred fragile souls, nothing more. But they didn’t stop. The Painted Soldiers overran the first rank of Goblins, then the second. They didn’t stop.

“Go!”

Pawn screamed. The Goblins fell back. It could speak? The Worker ran with the Soldiers. They crashed into a wave of Goblins armed with spears. The metal broke on their bodies. It pierced them. It didn’t matter. They didn’t so much as slow. They had one thought in their minds.

Further. A Soldier reeled back, a spear stabbed through his guts. He looked down at the spear as the Goblin holding it twisted. The Soldier punched down and the spear broke. He grabbed the terrified the Goblin and broke its neck. Then he ran on.

Arrows flew down from above. The Goblin Lord was shooting at his own warriors! The Antinium looked up. One of them was struck half a dozen times. He bled. The raindrops on his body became green with his blood. And he did not stop.

The Soldier with raindrops ran on, ignoring the arrows protruding from his body. His fellows joined them. They had yet to fall. They would not fall.

On. There was nothing to hold them back. The Goblins began to flee in the face of the Antinium. They screamed and turned. Swords didn’t hurt them! They bled, but they didn’t die!

“Hold your positions! There are only a hundred!”

Reiss bellowed. But the Goblins were afraid. The Soldiers charged on, a wedge now. Led by Yellow Splatters. And Pawn. The Worker ran through Goblins, forging ahead. Towards Erin. Towards the Goblin Lord. He whirled his staff and struck a Goblin with the censer. With his other hand he struck another Goblin with a mace he’d picked up.

It wasn’t enough. They’d never make it. The Soldiers were taking injuries. And they were beginning to slow. Pawn saw one fall. The one with numbers. But the others kept moving. They’d never get to the Goblin Lord.

But they didn’t stop. They overran formations, charged past the stunned Solstice Goblins.

Onwards.

The Goblin Lord’s lines began to break.

—-

“Madness.”

Tyrion whispered. The Goblins were retreating. The Antinium were smashing through their lines. It was a suicide charge. But somehow, the Soldiers weren’t dying.

“Do they have some kind of special armor? How are they still moving? What kind of Antinium is this?”

Jericha stared at the Antinium. Her face was pale. The Soldiers should not be doing this. Even Antinium had limits. But not this group. And the Solstice Goblins were rallying around the Soldiers. Redscar pointed and his Redfangs raced after the Painted Soldiers. Lightning flashed down ahead of them, clearing a path. Numbtongue roared and Yellow Splatters looked up. The Goblins surged after the Antinium.

This was the spear they needed. The five Redfangs charged again. The momentum was again against the Goblin Lord.

But he had his army. He could still win. He just needed to slow them. Tyrion gritted his teeth. He looked around.

“Jericha!”

His aide blinked. She looked at Tyrion and then colored.

“My lord?”

“Tell the Gold-rank teams to deploy their [Archers]. Take down the Goblin leaders.”

The [Mage]’s eyes widened. She nodded and shouted orders. Tyrion saw the message race across the lines of his soldiers, to the group of irregular adventurers. They were behind the lines of cavalry. They had no intention of participating in the mass-combat. But at Tyrion’s orders the teams with high-level [Archers] came forward.

“He wants us to hit the Goblin leaders? From here?”

One of the Gold-rank captains exclaimed with dismay. Another, a man named Jackal, turned to the [Messenger].

“Which ones are we hitting? The Goblin Lord’s?”

“No, the Goblins defending Liscor.”

“Damn.”

Jackal swore. He looked at his team. The only other adventurer with a bow, their [Ranger], looked unhappy.

“Jack, what’s the point of this? You saw that girl. Are we supposed to shoot her, too?”

“Only the Goblins. Lord Veltras was very specific about that.”

The [Messenger] interjected unhelpfully. Jackal gave him a long look. The Gold-rank adventurer shook his head. He selected an arrow and put it to his shortbow. The odds of him hitting one of the Goblins from here was remote, but the other adventurers might have a shot.

“We’ve got orders. Tyrion wants those Goblins to lose. So…let’s support that Goblin Lord. Sight on those Hobs. That one on the hill with the bow.”

Reluctantly, the other adventurers took aim. They sighted on Badarrow, who was loosing arrow after arrow. Jackal’s grip tightened on his arrow.

“[Farseeker Arrows]. [Double Arrow].”

He could hear the other adventurers using similar Skills. Jackal drew back. He could see the Antinium pushing forwards. He gritted his teeth. And then he looked up. Something bright flashed in the sky.

“Dead gods! Take cover!”

Jackal pointed up, screamed and threw himself sideways. The other adventurers didn’t bother looking. They dove. And then they saw what Jackal had.

The arrow that flew down out of the sky was glowing, its tip sparking with electricity. An enchanted arrow. It detonated as it struck the earth in front of Jackal’s team. The men and women cried out as the lightning earthed itself, mostly harmlessly.

“My arm!”

“It got my armor!”

“Who shot that? A Goblin?”

The Humans milled about in a panic. Someone blew an alarm, but the adventurers were more concerned with the attack. Jackal pulled himself up. The [Ranger] grabbed his arm.

“That didn’t come from the Goblins. Jack! It came from the walls?”

“A Drake shot that?”

Jackal stared at Liscor. It was far too far away for anyone but a Level 30 [Archer] to hit them from. And an enchanted arrow? His eyes widened. He saw a figure standing on the battlements.

“Five families save me. That’s Halrac. He shot that arrow!”

The adventurers looked up. Some of them uttered oaths. Jackal looked at his companions uneasily.

“Is he—”

“He’s covering the Goblins.”

“He can’t do that!”

Another Gold-rank captain exclaimed. Her face was pale. She raised her bow.

“There’s one of him! He can’t stop us from—”

A second arrow blasted a hole in the dirt in front of her. The adventurer recoiled. Jackal stared at the walls. The distant shape drew another arrow. Jackal looked at his team. Slowly, he lowered his bow. The [Messenger] stared incredulously at him.

“What are you doing? Lord Veltras ordered you to attack the Goblins!”

“Yeah. I don’t think so. You want to take them out, get your [Archers]. Halrac’s got the angle on us and he uses enchanted arrows. And he’s got a new bow. Get the Kingslayer to do it.”

“She’s not—”

The [Messenger] clamped his lips shut. Jackal eyed him, but the man was already riding back. The Gold-rank teams stared as another arrow flew from the wall. But it wasn’t aimed at them. And then they saw more flashes of light.

“What are they doing?”

“They can’t be—”

“They’re supporting the Goblins.”

Jackal was surprised there was no warble in his voice. He stared at the walls. Halrac was loosing arrow after arrow into the Goblin Lord’s army. And he wasn’t the only one.

—-

The first arrow blew a cluster of Goblins to bits. The second one was aimed directly at Reiss. He barely saw it. A wall of bone rose in front of him and the arrow nearly shattered the wall of bone. Reiss stared. Someone was shooting arrows at him! And then he saw a glowing ball of light falling from the sky.

A star. It shone with beautiful blue light, surrounded by a nimbus of blue energy. And it landed and bloomed. Goblins died as the first comet struck the earth. And then the second.

“[Valmira’s Comets].”

Typhenous stood on the walls. He pointed and another comet fell to earth. By his side, Halrac loosed another arrow. The distance was incredible, but the [Scout] had calculated each shot. And he had a bow capable of making it.

To Zevara, it looked as though Halrac was holding nothing but air. Until she turned her head slightly and saw the invisible bow refracted slightly across the light. The arrows Halrac were firing were visible enough—until the [Scout] paused and drew another arrow out of the air. It was transparent and practically invisible. He aimed, fired. Reiss snarled as an arrow streaked past him. Only his master’s warning had saved him from the stealthed arrow.

“They’re covering the Goblins?”

“And the Antinium. Watch Captain, other adventurers are attacking as well!”

A [Guardswoman] shouted at Zevara. She turned and saw one of the other Gold-rank teams loosing arrows as well. Other mages capable of hitting the Goblins at this range were casting spells. Ceria and Pisces were trying to figure out a spell capable of hitting the Goblins.

“Should I tell them to hold their fire?”

“No—no, I—”

Zevara hesitated. She looked back at the Goblin Lord. The Antinium were going for him. The Redfangs were cutting their own way through. This was it. She hesitated. They had a chance. If they—

A bright nova shot from the walls of Liscor. Zevara gaped as a massive ball of fire shot down towards the Goblin Lord’s army. Reiss’ warriors looked up, screamed, and vanished. Reiss shielded his eyes and stared. That had come from Liscor’s walls.

“Olesm!”

The [Strategist] had been using Liscor’s enchantments to shoot down trebuchet stones. He turned as Zevara ran over to him. He raised one claw as the smoldering scroll turned to dust.

“What was—”

“Tactical shot, Watch Captain.”

Zevara stared at Olesm. He didn’t look the least bit ashamed. She hesitated.

“I see. Refrain from further shots. Unless you’re sure you can get that bastard. Focus on hitting those damn rocks!”

“Yes, Watch Captain.”

Olesm saluted with one claw. He narrowed his eyes and turned back to watching the skies. So did Zevara. The next wave of boulders would be coming. She waited, tensed, ready to call out alarm. She saw the trebuchets firing, braced, saw where they would land…

“What the—?”

—-

Tyrion saw the boulders arc into the air. He saw them land. He stared as a dozen boulders crashed into the back of the Goblin Lord’s army. He roared.

“What was that!?”

Jericha was already racing towards the trebuchets. She came back, panting.

“It was Emperor Laken, Lord Veltras!”

“He ordered that?”

“No, sire. He claims they misfired, sir.”

“Mis—”

Tyrion nearly choked on his own words. He nearly turned and rode towards the blind [Emperor] and caught himself just in time. He pointed at Jericha.

“Aim at Liscor! Tell that damned—ensure there are no more mistakes. Go!”

Jericha nodded and fled. Tyrion turned back to the battle. He was apoplectic with rage. His [Strategists] had gone silent. It shouldn’t have happened. But he could see it. So could anyone with an eye. Zevara, Olesm—even the blind [Emperor] must have sensed it.

The laughing Titan of Baleros saw it. He watched as the Antinium carved their way left of the Goblin Lord, drawing his forces away. As the adventurers bombarded the Goblin Lord’s forces. The lightning, the chance ‘misfire’ by the trebuchets—it broke the neat lines of the Goblin Lord’s army. Distracted him. All of it conspired for one thing, one moment that could be exploited, where the waves of warriors between the Goblins and the Goblin Lord drew back. It gave them what they needed.

An opening.

—-

And they came. Reiss tried to stop them. He saw his lieutenants trying to do the same. But Snapjaw was blocked by the trebuchet’s boulders and Redscar rode down on her. Eater of Spears was being targeted by the [Scout] with the magical arrows. And the Antinium had pressed too far into his lines. They were falling. But they had given them a gap. And into that gap they came.

Cave Goblins. A young woman. She led them, rallied them and forced the lines open. And the five charged ahead. Headscratcher. Numbtongue. Shorthilt. Badarrow. And Rabbiteater.

They were wounded. Tired. But they didn’t hesitate. Not for a second. There were only Reiss’ Hobgoblin bodyguards between them and the Goblin Lord. Headscratcher led the way. His axe shone as he cut down Hobs, swinging, clearing a path. And the world watched as he came on.

Ilvriss stared down at the scrying orb. He saw the Hobgoblin swinging, Shorthilt leaping forwards to cut an enemy down as Headscratcher swung again. The magical weapon cut the air, taking down three Hobs at once.

“Nice axe. I’ve never seen it before in my life.”

The Wall Lord clenched his claws into a fist. He saw Badarrow shoot a Goblin at point-blank range, and Rabbiteater dash past him. The Hob caught a blast of fire inside the liquid cloak.

“Waste of a good vintage. Go, you damn Goblins! Go!”

Numbtongue sang as he charged, swinging his guitar. In his seat at the table, Blackmage stood up.

“Go, guitar Goblin!”

Reiss turned. He pointed, and black magic coalesced around his finger.

“[Deathbolt]!”

The five Hobs saw the spell coming and avoided it. Flos laughed as he sat at his table, peering at the scrying orb.

“You can’t hit warriors with that spell! They’re going to reach him.”

“She did it.”

Gazi smiled. Her main eye was closed. Trey stared at Erin Solstice. So did Teres.

“That’s her?”

Erin was shouting. She raised a frying pan and threw it. The dented, battered pan flew through the air and nearly reached Reiss. But Erin was too tired so it just landed a few dozen feet short of him. The Blighted King shook his head.

“Pointless.”

He turned away from the scrying orb and waved his hand, dismissing it. The other nobility hesitated, then clustered around the orb. On came the five Redfangs. And then they were there.

Distant specks. Even in the scrying orb they were tiny. Falene stared at the Redfangs, trying not to blink. She saw them scale the hill, fighting past the last of the Hobs. And then they were there.

He waited for them. Reiss had dismounted from his Shield Spider. He stood tall, black magic swirling into a long sword. Death magic. A blade of darkness. In his other hand he conjured shards of bone. The Goblin Lord waited for the five of them.

They had never met. But it didn’t matter. They were Redfangs. And he was the Goblin Lord. They didn’t say much. Reiss saw them spread out as the Cave Goblins bought their heroes time.

“I am a Goblin Lord. Reiss. Why are you defying me?”

That was all he asked them. And the Redfangs shrugged. Headscratcher smiled.

“Because.”

They took their spots. Headscratcher in front, Shorthilt to the side. Badarrow took aim. Numbtongue and Rabbiteater came at the Goblin Lord from behind.

They fought. Reiss swung the magical blade. He shot bone darts, conjured a wall of bone. The undead rose, bursting from the ground. The Redfangs dodged and struck at him.

Armor of bones. Claws of bone. Reiss caught Headscratcher’s axe by the handle and threw the Hob. He shouted. He was a Goblin Lord! They were just Hobs!

He couldn’t be felled. Not by them! That was the difference between a Goblin Lord and a mere Chieftain. He had done what no other Goblin could. That was what it meant to be him. Reiss slashed and opened up Numbtongue’s chest. The Hobgoblin retreated, drinking a healing potion.

An arrow struck Reiss in the side. He staggered, pointed. Rabbiteater was blown back by an explosion of air. Shorthilt found a Draug locked onto his leg. It bit and tore at him as he cut it down. Headscratcher brought his axe down and Reiss conjured a shield of bone to protect him. The axe bit through the bone and Reiss stumbled back.

“I am Reiss!”

He spun and slashed Badarrow across the chest. The Hob grunted but managed to kick Reiss anyways. Headscratcher shoulder-charged the Goblin Lord. Reiss roared and threw him.

Strength. Skill. Speed. The five Hobs attacked again. Reiss defended himself from all sides. He was stronger than they were. He was beyond any Goblin.

Any one Goblin. But there were five. And it was enough. Reiss stumbled backwards as another arrow struck his leg. Shorthilt cut him across the back and Reiss struck at him. And then Rabbiteater slashed down and Headscratcher cut at him from the side. The Goblin Lord blocked one with spell, the other with his hand. And Numbtongue struck him across the face.

He fell. The Solstice Goblins roared. Reiss struggled to get up. Headscratcher charged him. And the Goblin Lord looked up. His black eyes widened. The white pupils contracted.

“Always. You always disappoint me, my apprentice.”

A voice spoke. Headscratcher blinked. He hesitated, and that was what saved his life.

Reiss’ body jerked. A hand rose and a voice spoke. But it was not Reiss’.

“[Mass Silent Sickle].”

Cutting blades filled the air. Headscratcher’s eyes widened. Rabbiteater threw himself forwards. The liquid cape exploded as the blades lacerated the liquid, cut into his armor. The [Champion] fell back, bleeding as the Goblin Lord rose. But he was not Reiss any longer.

Az’kerash turned. He wore a Goblin’s face. A different body from his own. But it was he who spoke. He who regarded the five Redfangs with contempt. Frustration.

“Five Hobs. An army of three tribes. Antinium. How dare you interfere? My apprentice fails me time and again. So it falls to me to do what must be done.”

The Redfangs looked at each other. Who was this? Every instinct in them cried out that it was not Reiss. And moreover—the way the stranger moved made them nervous. He looked from face to face and then gestured.

“I have little interest in wasting power. This will be enough for the likes of you.”

He raised one hand. The Redfangs braced. The ground shifted. Bone rose from the ground, white, pure ivory. It formed into a blade and a handle, curving, forming a guard, a mesh. The Necromancer drew a pure white rapier from the earth and passed his hand over it.

“[Bone Rapier]. [Bloodcaller’s Curse].”

The blade turned red. The Redfangs watched as the Necromancer lifted the blade. Reiss’ body was injured, but it moved fluidly. Az’kerash smiled thinly.

“It has been long since I last took up arms. This will be enough. Come, you—”

He broke off. His rapier snapped up and he slashed the arrow in half. The Necromancer stared at Badarrow. The Hobgoblin blinked. The Necromancer lunged.

“Watch out!”

Shorthilt slashed. Az’kerash pulled back smoothly. Badarrow stumbled. He stared at the wound in his shoulder. A deep hole had been drilled in his arm. Az’kerash retreated back, slashing. Shorthilt grunted as the blade opened up cuts along his arms. He deflected one, ducked back.

“I am out of practice.”

That was all Az’kerash said. The Hobs looked at each other. Badarrow scrambled for a potion. Shorthilt did the same. The Hobs drank as Az’kerash watched, a sardonic smile playing across his lips. The Redfangs waited. Shorthilt felt at his injures and froze.

The cuts weren’t healing, even with a potion. Badarrow stared at his wounded shoulder. The Necromancer nodded.

“A fool relies on alchemical tricks. So, Goblins. Show me what my apprentice failed to defeat.”

He raised his rapier. The five Redfangs looked at each other.

They could have run. They could have fled.

But they couldn’t have. Not really. They spread out, setting themselves. Headscratcher’s axe glowed. The Necromancer regarded it idly.

“A simple enchantment. Without form.”

He stepped back. Headscratcher roared and swung. The Necromancer let the tip of the magical blade pass by his chest. He turned. Numbtongue, Shorthilt, and Rabbiteater leapt at him.

“Why a guitar?”

Az’kerash slashed across Numbtongue’s chest. He stepped, and blurred out of the way of an arrow.

“[Flash Step].”

He cut across Rabbiteater’s back, twice. The Necromancer frowned as his blade cut through the cloak but barely penetrated the armor.

“A Skill?”

He turned. Shorthilt’s sword curved towards his chest, then down towards his arm.

“Lacking.”

The rapier snapped down. The blade deflected Shorthilt’s attack perfunctorily. Headscratcher charged again. This time he bled.

The five Red