goblins. Soldiers hurried back and forth on the lower level, tending to the wounded and collecting supplies. Bundles of bread and buckets of water were being passed around, as everyone took advantage of the break in the fighting to prepare for more of the same.
Purdun took a loaf of bread, tore it in thirds, and handed a piece to Tammsel and Boughstrong. 'I wonder how long this will last.'
Tammsel bit into the warm bread. 'The food or the calm?'
The relative silence was broken by the sound of a thousand goblins talking all at once. Their voices rose to an excited frenzy. Then all went quiet.
Rysodyl Boughstrong bounded up the stairs to the archer's platform. He glanced down over the edge, then turned around, cupping his hands to his mouth.
'The goblin king has arrived!'
Lord Purdun hurried to the stairs, his half-steel dragon companion right behind him. Reaching the top of the crenellated wall, he looked down into the sea of goblins surrounding his keep. From the west, the goblin king approached, working his way down the road.
Easily three times the size of the second largest goblin on the battlefield, he shuffled to the top of the hill, seemingly in no hurry. In one massive fist he dragged behind him what looked like the throwing arm from a ruined trebuchet. It still had the basket attached to one end-a souvenir from a previous battle.
Even for a goblin, he was an ugly creature. His greenish skin stretched tight over rippling forearms and shoulders. He wore a collection of ragged furs, draped haphazardly over his chest and back. In some cases it looked as if the brute had done little more than bash a skunk over the head and tie its tail in with the rest of the refuse hanging from his body.
Warts covered his arms and forehead. His nose grew out from his face crooked and cocked, as if it had been broken and broken again, each time pushing out in a new direction. And a mop of stringy, greasy hair hung from the top of his head, flopping down his back, cascading over his shoulders, and getting caught under his feet as he trundled forward.
Over the hair, the goblin king sported a tarnished, twisted, and broken copper crown. It looked as if it may have at one time been the wheel of an elaborate coach. Whatever it had been in a previous life, it had seen a lot of fighting and had suffered for it.
A host of red-skinned guards rode beside him atop their worgs. They shoved aside the other goblins, clearing the way for their king. Those goblins that didn't move quickly enough were trampled underfoot or snapped to pieces in the mighty jaws of the worgs.
'So that's the famed King Ertyk Uhl,' said Purdun, sizing up his opponent.
He'd heard much about the goblin king. Ertyk Uhl was the first to unite the goblins of both the Kuldin and High Peaks. The resulting union had created the Starrock tribe, the group Purdun and the crusaders had been fighting in Duhlnarim for months. The war had gone on for nearly an entire year, but never before had the goblin king appeared in person.
When Ertyk Uhl reached the top of the hill, he stopped and turned to face his collected army. The goblin king raised his battle club high, then swung it toward Zerith Hold, the loose trebuchet basket flopping over and thudding to the ground in front of him.
The silence suddenly ended as the goblins all started chattering again at the same time. Large groups formed, each working intently on some collective goal. What that was remained to be seen.
Whatever they were doing, it wasn't attacking Zerith Hold, and it gave the crusaders another rare moment to stop and think. Heading back down into the courtyard, Purdun, Tammsel, and Boughstrong sat on the edge of a low stone wall to talk.
'This is never going to stop,' started Purdun. 'Now that their king is here, they are going to pound us day and night. They have the numbers to rest in shifts and keep us on the defensive until we break.'
'I am glad to see that you have finally come to your senses,' replied Tammsel. 'It is time we abandon Zerith Hold. We have put up a good fight, but there is no sense in giving up lives here. We can live to fight another day, when we have more resources and on our own terms.'
'I am not suggesting that we flee,' replied Purdun. 'There are too many of them, and they have us completely surrounded. Even if we were to make it out alive, where would we go? Back to Tethyr? We fought long and hard to separate ourselves from their rule, and now you want to simply go back and ask if we can return to their bosom?'
'Of course not,' replied Tammsel. 'We are a free nation, and I intend to keep it that way.'
'Good.' Purdun slapped the ranger on the shoulder, smiling.
'If you're not suggesting escape, then what are you suggesting?' asked Boughstrong.
'I am suggesting that we go on the offensive.'
'On the offensive? Are you crazy?' denounced the elf. 'The only advantage we have is this keep. These walls are all that has held back that nearly inexhaustible army of vermin. Why would we give that up?'
'We have to kill their king,' defended Purdun. 'Without him, they will break. They fear him. They push on to their deaths because we are less frightening than he. But if we kill him, if they see him fall in battle, they will fear us. They will lose their nerve and their discipline, and they will break and run.' Purdun looked to his fellow crusaders. 'We cannot kill them all. And if we try to wait them out, then I suspect we will not make it through the night. We have no choice. King Ertyk Uhl must die.'
The elf and the half-steel dragon looked at each other, then at Lord Purdun.
'We are with you,' they said in unison.
'Here it comes!'
The men in the courtyard scattered, running for cover.
Over the wall, the objects flew, screeching as they came. They smelled of rotten flesh and fungus.
The projectiles came crashing to the ground in the center of Zerith Hold-piles of High Peaks goblins. They had been hurled over the wall, swords in hand.
Purdun ran back to the archer's platform. There on the edge of the large hill, the goblins had managed to construct a pair of rickety catapults. They were loading batches of goblins onto the lever arm and hurling them over the wall.
Purdun turned away and ran back down the stairs. 'To the portcullis!' he shouted.
The goblins had been tied together for their voyage over the defenses of Zerith Hold. When they landed, those on top had survived the crushing impact. Those who had been unlucky enough to end up on the bottom were little more than squished piles of flesh and broken bones.
The survivors cut themselves free and ran to the portcullis and the cranking mechanism that operated the doors and drawbridge. They swarmed over the handful of soldiers standing beside the door, knocking them down and beating them into the grounds- their screeches echoing off the stone walls.
Purdun and Tammsel arrived first, diving into the pile of squirming goblins-Purdun with his long sword, Tammsel with his silvery claws. The blood of their enemies flowed from the ends of their weapons, but for every goblin they cut down, two more came hurling over the wall.
'We've got to go now,' said Purdun, turning and cutting the head from another goblin. 'They can waste half their number throwing them over the wall, and we will still lose this fight.' He came back again, cutting down two more goblins with a long, wide swing. 'Eventually more are going to get inside, and all will be lost.' He spun, slashing a yellow goblin across the chest, then turning and kicking another right in the groin, sending it to the ground, face first. 'We have no choice. We need to surprise them. We need to kill their king, and we need to go now!'
Tammsel clawed his way through four goblins, one after the other, as he listened to his friend. Then he nodded. 'I'm with you.'
Purdun looked over the courtyard and spotted Boughstrong near the center, scissoring goblins to pieces before they could untangle themselves from their squished counterparts.
'We're going.' Purdun motioned to the door. 'Ready your men.'
The elf simply nodded, finishing his gruesome work, then turning to speak with the soldiers standing nearby.
Purdun disengaged, taking two huge steps back. The goblins hissed at him, crouching and glaring. When he didn't make a move to attack, they skulked toward the portcullis and went about getting it open. Purdun let them do
