The two parties took only a moment to catch their breath before surging forward again, forming a rough wedge and using their combined momentum to crash into the next cluster of enemies. Their boots churned the mud, the sound of their charge drowned by the roar of battle ahead.
They hit the goblins’ flank like a storm. The first ranks folded instantly under the impact, shields smashed ribs, blades tore through bellies, and the sudden assault sent a shockwave of panic rippling through the enemy line. For a heartbeat, it worked almost like last time; they cut through the smaller creatures in a coordinated rush.
But this time, the fight was different.
The force ahead was larger. Much larger. Dozens of goblins screamed and surged around several hulking orcs who barked guttural threats, their crude iron weapons hacking into both friend and foe alike. The clash of steel, the stench of blood and burnt flesh, and the raw fury of the orcs made the air itself feel alive with violence.
The defenders they’d come to aid were faltering. One adventurer already lay sprawled on the ground, his staff slay on the ground beside him, his glazed eyes staring blankly upward. Another knelt nearby, his arm slick with blood as he tried to fend off a goblin’s dagger with their staff. The guards still stood, shields raised and faces hard as stone, but each hit they took drove them further back. The line was seconds from breaking.
“Go!” Josh bellowed, voice hoarse but commanding. He slammed his shield forward, ploughing through the nearest goblin, and Bhel was beside him, roaring in defiance, his twin axes flashing in brutal arcs. Goblin bodies fell like wheat before a scythe.
Brett’s voice rose above the chaos, his hands glowing as roots burst from the ground, snaring orcs by their legs and dragging them screaming into the dirt. A moment later, fire ripped through the goblin ranks, his spell detonating in a burst of orange heat that turned the nearest foes into silhouettes of ash.
Carcan stood behind them, staff raised, her voice sharp with focus. “Shields of light, hold firm!” A pale barrier shimmered across the front line the hard pressed party just in time to turn aside a brutal swing from one of the orcs.
Perberos loosed arrow after arrow with machine precision, each one slamming into a target’s throat or eye. “Keep pushing!” he called out between shots. “They’re breaking!”
They weren’t, at least not yet. The orcs were still driving forward, their sheer bulk forcing the adventurers back step by step. But the tide had shifted. For the first time, the defenders had hope.
Steel clashed and screams tore through the air as the wedge pressed deeper. Josh could barely tell friend from foe through the haze and smoke, just shapes and flashes of steel, the stink of sweat and blood thick enough to choke on. His shield arm burned, his sword arm screamed, but he didn’t slow. He slammed forward again, bashing one goblin aside and stabbing through another’s throat in a single motion.
To his right, Bhel roared something unintelligible and buried both axes in an orc’s side. The creature howled and swung wildly, its crude cleaver catching the dwarf’s shoulder and tearing through mail. Bhel staggered, snarling in pain, and Josh lunged in to cover him — his shield meeting the orc’s next strike with a crash that numbed his arm to the bone.
“Stay with me!” Josh shouted.
Bhel spat blood, teeth bared in a grin. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, lad!” He tore one axe free and swung again, cleaving into the orc’s knee. The beast dropped with a bellow, and Josh’s blade drove through its chest, pinning it to the ground.
Behind them, Brett hurled another firebolt, the blast searing through a cluster of goblins trying to circle the flank. The flames caught one that was already wounded, igniting its oily skin. It shrieked and flailed through its kin, spreading the fire in its panic. The smell of burnt flesh rolled over them in a choking wave.
“Keep the line tight!” Carcan yelled, her voice hoarse but firm. Her staff flared with light as she threw a barrier between the parties, deflecting a jagged spear that would have taken a guard through the throat. Sweat ran down her temples as she forced another spell into being.
Perberos was a constant rhythm of death at the edge of the melee. His arrows struck in perfect tempo — thwip, thwip, thwip — each shot cutting down a goblin or piercing an orc’s unarmoured neck. “Left flank’s thinning!” he called out, already nocking another arrow.
Josh looked up and saw he was right, the left side was collapsing. The orcs there were trying to retreat, dragging goblins with them to form a new line. “Push! Don’t let them regroup!” he roared.
Bhel slammed his shoulder into a goblin and sent it tumbling underfoot. Brett’s flames streaked past him, exploding against a retreating orc’s back. The monster staggered forward, skin blackened and blistered, before Bhel’s axes finished the job in a single, brutal cross-cut.
They were winning, slowly, painfully, but undeniably. The ground beneath them was slick with blood and littered with the dead. Every breath came with the taste of iron.
A new orc thundered through the flames like a living siege ram, bellowing its fury, apparently finding Josh’s group to be the bigger threat that needed to be handled. Two more followed close behind it, both scarred and snarling, swinging weapons caked with gore. The ground shook beneath their charge.
Josh didn’t hesitate, seeing a chance to end the fight here and relieve the pressure on the other group. “Pull back! Pull back to the tents, we’ll trap them between us!”
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The command ripped through the din. His group fell back in a staggered line, covering each other as goblins rushed to fill the space. Perberos loosed arrow after arrow, every shaft sinking into the closest targets to buy them breathing room. Carcan threw a barrier across the retreat, its shimmering edge flickering under the strain of several goblin blades slamming into it.
The defenders — two weary guards and the adventurers they’d saved, saw what Josh was doing and adjusted, locking shields and pressing forward. Together they cut through the few remaining goblins that still scurried before them, closing the gap and starting to advance on the orcs’ rear.
One of the hulking beasts turned, bellowing as it charged straight for Josh. The ground shook with each heavy step. Its rusted cleaver came down in a brutal overhead swing, the impact sending a jarring shock through Josh’s arm as he blocked. Metal shrieked against metal, his boots sliding half a step back through the dirt.
He braced again and roared, forcing the cleaver up and away. “Now, Bhel!”
The dwarf didn’t need telling twice. He lunged in from the flank, his twin axes flashing in brutal arcs that bit deep into the orc’s side. The creature howled, swinging wildly, but Brett’s firebolt struck it square in the face. Flame blossomed across its skin, blinding it. The orc staggered, thrashing, and Josh stepped in, driving his sword through its chest. The blade shuddered as it split bone. The beast gurgled, dropped to its knees, and crashed to the ground.
The second orc roared in fury, charging toward the line of defenders. Its cleaver smashed a guard’s shield clean in half, sending splinters flying. The man fell back with a cry, but his comrade stepped over him, thrusting his spear into the orc’s thigh. The monster bellowed and raised its weapon for a killing blow, only for Josh and Bhel to rush in.
“Hold him!” Josh shouted.
The guard gritted his teeth, twisting the spear just enough to stall the orc’s movement. It was all the opening they needed. Bhel’s axe came down hard, biting into its arm. The cleaver fell from numb fingers, and an instant later Perberos’ arrow punched through its throat.
The creature staggered back, blood pouring from its wounds and then a new roar split the air.
A third orc, larger than the others and streaked with black ash, came crashing through the last line of tents, the other group stalking behind it. It looked between the two groups, Josh’s group on one side, guards to the other and found itself cornered. Trapped between them, it bared its teeth and swung wildly, catching one guard’s shield and sending him stumbling.
“Surround it!” Josh barked, already stepping forward.
The orc spun to meet him, but Bhel was there too, axes flashing again. Spears thrust from the other side, forcing the beast to twist and snarl, hemmed in by steel and fury.
Brett hurled another firebolt that exploded across its shoulder, staggering it toward the line of defenders. Perberos’ next arrow slammed through its ribs, and Carcan sent a crackling burst of mana that hindered it’s movement long enough for Josh to move in.
“Now!”
Steel and flame converged. The orc was struck from three sides at once, spears punching through its gut, Josh’s blade cleaving across its chest, Bhel’s axe burying itself in its neck. The creature let out a strangled, wet roar before collapsing, the ground trembling beneath its fall.
For a moment, no one moved. The firelight flickered across their blood-streaked faces. The last echoes of battle faded into the night.
Josh lowered his sword, his chest heaving. “Is that… all of them?”
The tension in Josh’s shoulders finally began to ebb as he scanned the burning camp. The immediate sounds of battle had faded, replaced by the distant clash of steel and the ragged cries of the wounded.
From between the flickering tents, three figures stumbled towards them. Two guards, their armour dented and streaked with soot and blood, leaned on each other for support. One had a broken spear shaft still clutched in his hand; the other’s shield was little more than splintered wood strapped to his arm. Between them moved a tall, lean wolf Beastfolk whose fur was matted with sweat and ash, one ear torn and still bleeding. His bow hung loose in his hand, and several empty quivers were tied to his belt.
Josh recognized him immediately, Vokal Rainstrength, a ranger from their classes.
“By the gods,” Vokal rasped as he drew near, his chest heaving. “I thought we were done for. The moment Koz’ru fell…” His voice faltered, his amber eyes flicking toward the still form lying in the dirt beyond the firelight.
The guards exchanged grim looks. One spat blood from between split lips. “We tried to hold the flank,” he said hoarsely. “But when that goblin… when that damned arrow hit him—” He swallowed, his voice breaking. “We couldn’t help him. He was dead as soon as he hit the ground. There were just to many of them. Arrows were coming from everywhere, along with those little bastard throwing themselves at us…”
Josh’s throat tightened. He lowered his sword and nodded silently, the adrenaline still humming in his veins. “You made it,” he said simply. “That’s what matters right now.”
Carcan was already moving, her staff in hand and mana gathering at her fingertips. “Sit down, all of you,” she ordered, her tone firm but kind. “You’ll collapse if you don’t.”
The guards sank to the ground, grateful but barely conscious. A faint blue light spread from her staff as she began to weave her healing spell, the air shimmering with warmth. The worst of their bruises began to fade, shallow cuts knitting closed.
She turned then to Vokal, whose breathing was uneven. “You too,” she said softly.
He gave a tired grin that showed the tips of sharp canines. “I’ll live, mage. Others need it more.”
But his voice cracked near the end, betraying the exhaustion in his frame.
As Carcan finished the last of her spells, her eyes drifted past him — to where another figure knelt motionless beside Koz’ru’s body. Zolma Studz, the human healer from Vokal’s group, was still there, her hands slick with blood, whispering words that held no more power.
The light from her healing spell had long since faded.
Carcan’s chest tightened as she approached. Zolma didn’t look up when Carcan knelt beside her, only muttering, “I tried. He was still breathing when I got here. I thought—”
“I know,” Carcan said quietly. She reached out and touched the woman’s shoulder, a faint, comforting glow spilling from her hand. “You did everything you could.”
Vokal dropped to one knee beside them, his voice low. “He died saving us. His shield spell saved me more than once, and his magic killed many of the foes. He will be remembered.”
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the distant crackle of flames and the fading cries of battle elsewhere in the camp. Around them, the survivors began to regroup — battered, bloodied, but still standing.
Hey you. Yeah, you—the one who just scrolled to the end.
If you hit “Follow,” I’ll pretend I didn’t see you skip all the emotional bits right at the end...

