Excerpt: "Quest"

It was at that moment of uncertainty that Linvin and his cavalry attacked from the rear along the entire line.  The goblins were so preoccupied with the happenings in front of them that they paid no heed to the cavalry in the rear forming a line along the length of their formation.  Bewildered goblins never saw the strikes coming that cut them down.  The phalanx was so tightly packed that Linvin’s troops could not miss.

Linvin struck like thunder with his long sword.  He slashed to his right and then his left, dropping goblins with each stroke.  As quickly as he could swing his sword, he would kill another.

Linvin was not alone in his success.  His cavalry cut deep swaths into the rear goblin ranks.  The cavalry maintained their line and did not get too far ahead of each other in order to avoid being surrounded.

The discipline observed among the goblins seemed to bleed away in the chaos.  Indecision took center stage.  Due to the close formation, they could not turn to fight without dropping their pikes, but without their pikes, they would be at a great disadvantage to the horsemen.  It led to carnage on an unprecedented scale, courtesy of Linvin’s cavalry.

Indecision gave way to panic as the majority of what was once a phalanx dropped their spears and drew their melee weapons.  Rather than continue to be attacked from behind, they chose to turn and fight as best they could.

The change in tactics could not have come at a better time at the shield-wall.  The front line had collapsed and Sculla’s men were on the verge of being routed.  With most of the pikes discarded, there was at last a moment to hasten fresh troops to the line and reform the wall.  Personally taking the lead, Sculla ordered an advance.  They marched with their wall intact to the front of the goblin line and engaged.

The cavalry was meeting with more fierce resistance with the change of weapons.  Their progress slowed and they began to take losses.

Linvin was striking more swords then armor as his enemy rallied.  At least one goblin had kept his spear.  He struck Linvin’s horse with a killing blow.  The steed stood on its hind legs and then fell to its side.

Linvin was thrown to the ground with his sword and shield flying from his hands.  His helmet fell forward, covering his eyes.  With a swipe of his forearm he knocked the helmet off.

A goblin stood above Linvin with his sword in hand.  He was ready to strike.  Linvin propped his arm in front of him and braced for the blow.  Nothing happened.  Linvin looked again and saw a blade erupt from the goblin’s chest before he fell to the ground.  Left standing behind the body was an astonished Fardar.

Linvin could not believe it.  They exchanged a brief nod.  Linvin regained his feet quickly, holding a sickle-sword and hand ax.  He immediately struck right past Fardar’s head with the sword.  It caught a goblin in the face that was about to kill Linvin’s savior.  There was no time to thank one another.  The two stood back-to-back and continued the fight.

Linvin slashed at the hamstring of one as he buried the ax deep in another.  Drawing back quickly, he stabbed and chopped at two more.  The flailing of his arms made him a difficult target to approach.  It also made him lose sight of Fardar.

The moments passed like days.  For every goblin that fell, another filled his place.  There appeared to be no reprieve from the endless enemy surge.