After taking a moment to collect himself, he looked over the
situation closely. Aside from the
goblins actually in the camp, there were four sentries posted in a square
perimeter around the clearing. They did
not take their eyes off the forest.
Linvin was beginning to seriously regret leaving his sword
at home. If he were going to save his
family, he would only be able to count on his bow. How many could I possibly slay before they
took me in a rush? he thought. Three...maybe
four if I’m fast. That was not a satisfactory answer.
He looked at his uncle lying on the ground and tried to
think of what advice the old elf would give him in the situation. Anvar’s speech at the monument was still
fresh in his mind. Somehow the
sentimentality of the statements was lost on Linvin in the moment. The swelling rage in his heart left little
room for remorse. There was, however,
one useful piece of knowledge from the experience he could put to use. He remembered Anvar’s depiction of the Tree
Line Stand in the war. “Archers in the trees!”
Linvin exclaimed. A plan formed in
moments and Linvin was ready to set it in motion.
He pulled an arrow back on the string and found a spot in a
tree where he could get a good view of the field. For his plan to work, the first shot had to
be true. Linvin took great care aiming,
then let the arrow fly. It sliced
through the air so fast that Linvin lost track of it until it reached its
target.
With a hiss, the arrow went through the neck of the goblin
leader. He gasped for breath and then
fell to the ground. It was a perfect
shot. Not taking time to marvel at his
shooting, he fired two more arrows into the crowd of stunned goblins and then
jumped to the next tree.
Among the goblins, panic had set in like sudden fog. Their captain was down and before they knew
it, two more goblins had fallen beside him.
The sentry nearest to the tree where the arrows came from,
rushed over and thrust his spear into the branches. When he looked up, he saw nothing but
leaves. There was not a sign of anyone. He looked down and saw the boar carcass with
an arrow in its shoulder. Connecting the
two things, he turned to hail his comrades.
The only sound he could make though, was a scream of pain as an arrow
pierced his chest plate. He was driven
to the ground by the sheer shock of the blow.
Spears were held high as the goblins reacted to the cry and
hurried to the sight. The sentries,
however, maintained their posts with surprising discipline. Though an honorable act, it would be their
undoing. The main force was still
running to the first sentry, while Linvin dropped the others in turn with his
stealth attack; hopping from tree to tree like a squirrel.
The hoard halted as they saw their watchmen cut down. Again, panic struck them. In an act of desperation, they spread out and
rushed for different areas of the perimeter from which the arrows might have
come. The act was in vain. Linvin was several trees away before any
goblin came near his last point of fire.
One by one, they succumbed to the bow.
Arrows came from all directions. The goblins could not tell if there was one
enemy or dozens. Whatever direction they
searched, was of no use. Goblins died as
quickly as Linvin could draw his bow.
Not a single arrow missed its target as Linvin channeled his hatred into
the slaughter.
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