Paul Kemp - Realms of War

Through the reception areas, Purdun and Tammsel ran for the other end of the hold, toward the armory and barracks. The doors to all the officers' quarters were open with no one inside. The sound of fighting echoed down the stone hallway as they closed in on the back gate.

Through the stables, the two men burst out into the mustering grounds. One of their fellow crusaders, Rysodyl Boughstrong-the most muscular elf Purdun had ever encountered-was leading the defense. He had a sword in each hand, and pointed one at an oncoming goblin, then lopped its head off with the other.

The mustering grounds were used exclusively by Lord Purdun's army. Mounted units gathered there before heading out on patrols. It had been added onto Zerith Hold when it became clear that the army was going to outgrow the two-hundred-year-old keep's existing barracks.

The gate was heavily guarded, but the wall wasn't as high there as it was at the portcullis off the main court shy;yard, or the rest of the hold. The original, higher wall was where the stables emptied out and was a fallback point in case the mustering grounds were overrun-and that time was at hand.

Goblins rolled over the wall at two points, dropping down in front of the blades of the troops waiting below. So far, they hadn't managed to get more than a few of their number over at any one time, and Boughstrong had the situation well in hand. He stood beside the other men, slicing up the goblins one at a time as they came.

"How are they getting over the wall?" shouted Purdun, his voice competing with the squealing of a dying goblin. "The tree ladders again?"

Boughstrong shook his head. "No. They're forming goblin pyramids, kneeling atop each other's backs to let others climb over. It's not happening everywhere yet, but only because the main force hasn't figured out they can get in this way."

"How many are out there?"

"Maybe a hundred. Half are stacked up on top of one another," replied the elf. "I can handle this. I'll send a runner if we need-"

Boughstrong's words were cut short as he was knocked to the ground by a four-legged black beast.

"Worgs!" came the cry.

But it was too late. Boughstrong already had one atop his chest.

Purdun swung down on the rider-a red-skinned Kuldin Peaks goblin. His sword was intercepted by the worg, its teeth biting down on the blade with a clang.

Purdun pulled back, slipping the sword out of the beast's jaws and cutting a huge gash in its foul gums as he did. The creature yelped and snapped its teeth, but the crusader dodged away, just barely getting out from under its fangs as they clamped down.

With a hiss, Tammsel leaped on the worg, wrapping his arms around the mount's neck and tackling it to the ground. The rider was thrown from its back, as the half-steel dragon and the filthy beast rolled across the dusty flagstones. The worg howled, its teeth making a loud snapping each time it tried to bite into the man on its back.

Purdun quickly dispatched the downed goblin, cutting its body in two with a mighty cleave. Then he helped Boughstrong to his feet.

"Ready to fight?"

The elf nodded and picked up his swords.

Three more worgs bounded over the wall, leaping over the crusaders' heads deeper into the mustering grounds.

Purdun and Boughstrong turned to face them. The man and the elf had their backs to the outer wall. The worgs' leap had put them close to the open doors to Zerith Hold-closer than Purdun and Boughstrong. Nothing stood between the invaders and the undefended inside of the hold.

"We can't let them get inside," shouted Purdun, and he flung himself at the first rider.

The soldiers at the wall followed his lead, spreading out around the worgs.

On the ground, Tammsel continued to wrestle. Fur flew, and blood splashed. They traded claw blows and snapped at each other's throats. It was a fight to the death, two primal forces struggling for survival.

Boughstrong swept around to the right of Purdun to circle behind the closest worg rider. The move confused the hulking mount, because it snapped at the air, first toward one crusader and then the other. The goblin on its back tried to control it, but it was no use; the beast, not the rider, was in charge.

The worg lunged at Boughstrong, and Purdun slashed its tail from behind. The creature let out a yelp and spun around, growling. But that's all it had time for. The elf's flanking move had worked, and he came down on the beast with his blades, severing both hind legs.

The worg's rear end dropped to the ground, little more than a bloody stump, and the creature curled up on itself. It yowled, a helpless moaning wail, and pulled itself in circles with its front legs. Confused and desperate, it flailed on the ground, trying to salve its wounds. In the process, the worg pinned its goblin rider to the ground, smashing it to a pulp with its heavy, hairy frame as it squirmed in agony.

Another yelp echoed through the mustering grounds, overtopping all the other sounds of fighting. Tammsel got to his feet, the worg he had been wrestling gripped in one hand-his dragonlike claws buried in its throat. The creature pawed weakly at his arms, struggling to breathe. Gashes in its sides wept blood and pus, and its tail stuck out straight from its body.

The yelping stopped as the worg expired. Its body fell limp, hanging from Tammsel's claws like a freshly slaughtered cow on a meat hook.

The other soldiers had dispatched one of the final two worgs when the last one turned and made a break for the open door to Zerith Hold.

"You men," shouted Purdun, pointing to half a dozen soldiers close to the door, "after him!"

But his order was drowned out by the growls of five more worgs as they came leaping over the wall. Two men were caught off guard, torn to shreds by a frenzy of claws and teeth.

Purdun looked out at the mustering grounds. They weren't making any progress. The goblins would continue to get over the wall, and eventually more of them would get into the open back door. They really didn't need to hold that part of the keep. It just wasn't smart to stay there.

"Fall back!" he ordered. "Everyone inside the hold. We're ceding the mustering grounds."

The men did as they were told, disengaging from the goblin riders and bolting for the heavy doors at the back of Zerith Hold. Purdun, Boughstrong, and Tammsel took up the rear, covering the retreat. They stood side by side, fighting slowly back, as the worgs and their goblin riders stalked forward, trying to get past and into the hold.

"Inside, now!" Purdun bolted for the opening.

The elf and the half-dragon followed suit, dashing into the waiting door, the goblin riders right on their heels.

The cry went up among the men: "Shut it!"

It moved slowly as they shoved. The heavy wood and iron door had been designed to be difficult to open and as a result was also difficult to close. The old iron hinges creaked and complained as they went, and the worgs clawed at the opening, their fang-filled snouts reaching inside for whatever they could grab hold of.

Soldiers stabbed at the snapping beasts and their riders. When one would retreat, another would take its place, blocking the door from fully closing.

"Put your back into it!" shouted Purdun. He squatted down and pushed with all his might, his shoulders pressed against the heavy wood and iron bands.

The door moved farther, banging into the worgs. They growled, tearing at the wood with their claws and fangs.

Their riders jabbed their swords into the opening, creating a further barrier to getting it closed.

"All together!" shouted Tammsel. "One, two, three- now!"

Everyone who wasn't pushing the door lunged at the opening with their weapons. Blades scissored over one another into the gap. Eyes were gouged out, teeth cut loose, and paws torn to shreds. The soldiers' collective attack forced the worgs back, and the last few inches of the gap were cleared out.