FrivYeti/CalinPg21
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For a few minutes, Bryce and Lani jogged southwards, awkwardly. Finally, Bryce broke the silence. "So... how long?"
Lani looked at him, and then sighed. "Over a year, now. You figured it out?"
"Yeah." Bryce looked at Lani, still jogging. "That Reynard thing was a nice touch, but you took that raksha out too easily. How did you disguise yourself?"
"It's a trick I have. I can put together disguises." She shrugged uncomfortably. "Are we..."
"We're good." Bryce sighed. "Why didn't you trust me earlier, though? It would have saved time."
"I didn't know if you were a Solar or not. And I didn't want to lose this place." She sighed. "Incidentally, that isn't quite what I thought would happen when I warned you about a spy."
"Did you know it was killing people?"
"Well... no." Lani make a face. "At least you got it. Why are we running, exactly?"
"We have a serious problem." Bryce turned to look at her again, kicking a rock to the side of the road as he jogged along. "I think that spy wasn't lying - the Fair Folk are going to move now. It fits too well. You said you knew the Fair Folk along here. Any chance we might get any of them to defect?"
"Only if we have a clear shot at victory, and we don't." Lani shrugged again. "Their old lord's fallen back and away. I can try to get in touch with him..."
"Do it. I'm going to the south garrison, to defend them. Hopefully, the attacks will be staggered and I can get to the north garrison in time. If not... Dad knows what he's doing. He'll be okay." Bryce paused, and looked at Lani. "Get going. Any support you can bring will be critically useful." Lani nodded, and turned sideways. As she ran, she abruptly leapt into the air, and her body folded in on itself. A falcon flew off westwards, towards the mountains. Bryce watched her for a fraction of a second, and then continued running.
He arrived at the southern garrison less than ten minutes later, panting and out of breath. The gate guard gaped. "Bryce? What's wrong?"
"Get ready! Get ready to fight!" Bryce ran in the gate as the guards opened it. "The Fair Folk are on the move!"
"Sir!"
"What is it, Halward?" Garamond Silas walked to the wall, looking around. Word about the Realm troops coming had spread after Oliar Kala had arrived, and everyone was feeling upbeat for the first time all week. Silas noted that Halward, by contrast, was staring jumpily at the woods.
"Don't know, sir. I think I saw something moving in there. Didn't look like an animal."
Silas peered into the woods, following the armsman's outstretched hand. Halward Patrik watched him nervously. The young guardsman was gripping his spear as though afraid it would fly away, and sweat matted his hair to his brow. Silas frowned, and was about to shake his head, when he saw a flicker of movement. He watched, and then swore viciously.
"Sound the alarm! Hobgoblins in the trees!" Halward dashed for the alarm bell, and as it began to rang, Silas found himself wishing that Markus were here right now. He could use the advice.
"What's our situation, sir?" Armsman Rabalais ran up, looking at his captain.
"Rabalais. Looks like at least fifty hobgoblins. Not good." Men were streaming onto the wall, and Silas pointed down. "Ready bows."
He looked around, taking stock, and then glanced back at the forest. Fifty men with iron arrows against fifty hobgoblins. With a little luck, they would be fine. It seemed odd, though.
Then the alarm bell rang from the other side of the garrison, and Silas cursed. "Start firing here! Twenty-five men, everyone designated Group A! Everyone else, follow me!" He ran around the wall, with twelve men following him to the skeleton crew left on the other side.
The situation was chaos. Ten soldiers were firing arrows desperately into the trees as the enemy approached. In response, flights of silver javelins flew from the advancing Fair Folk, forcing men to take cover. Silas saw Armsman Tidell lying on the ground, a javelin sticking from his shoulder, and cursed again.
Then he saw the enemy, and his curses died.
There weren't just fifty hobgoblins. They were pouring out of the trees, brandishing axes and clashing them along the ground in a subdued but disturbing display. Silas tried to count, but couldn't. There were hundreds of hobgoblins, advancing like a wave of black and silver. They filled the valley. His mens' arrows couldn't help but hit them, and they came over the bodies of the dying. In their midst, a rocky man exhorted them onwards, waving a great club menacingly.
"Dragons preserve us..." Silas looked out over the enemy, and knew that his men couldn't hold them off, outnumbered by 20 to one or more. But they would have to try. The town would be defenseless.
If he was going to die, he was going to take as many Fair Folk as possible down with him.
