The Guardians: Book One of the Restoration Series (35 page)

“Beautiful shot, Flare.” Aaron said quietly.

“Not really. I was aiming for his heart.” Flare answered.

Flare watched for several more seconds, until the magician fell onto his face. Then, heeding Mikela’s advice, he dropped into the depression next to Aaron.

He was laying face down, when he thought about the other magician. He started to rise to check on Trestus and Enton, but at that moment the effects of the magician’s shattered spell flowed over them.

Scorching waves of flame rolled over their flimsy and insufficient hiding place. The heat seemed to suck all of the oxygen out of the air, and they gasped for breath. They could feel hair being singed, and skin starting to burn. Their weapons and armor became white hot, and burnt their skin. The pain and agony reached such a point that Flare wondered if death wouldn't be preferable.

Finally, the heat and flames subsided. Flare and Aaron slowly sat up. Each movement seemed to bring another piece of metal into contact with their skin, and the pain was excruciating.

Aaron looked simply horrible, and Flare knew that he probably looked as bad. Aaron’s skin was bright red, and blistered, and his hair was singed and smoking. There was a disgusting smell of cooked meat in the air.

“I’ve eaten venison that was less cooked than you.” Flare said to Aaron, grimacing.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Aaron said, breathing deeply.

“Save it. We’ve got to get moving.” Flare answered, getting to his feet.

The ground was scorched and burnt all around their depression, and he could clearly see his and Aaron’s outline burnt onto the ground.

The devastation had spread in a circular pattern from the location of the magician, and had reached almost to the walls of the fort. The dead and dying were everywhere. The goblins that had been within a hundred yards of the magician had died almost instantly, but the rest of the goblins had been burnt horribly and were dying slowly.

Flare thought of Trestus and Enton, and turned his head in their direction, and saw a similar scene of destruction. Much to his relief, Enton and Trestus were already making their way to the walls, although it appeared that Trestus was requiring assistance from Enton.

“Come on, Aaron. We got to get moving.” Flare said to Aaron, who was still sitting on the ground.

“I can’t make it.” Aaron answered weakly.

He turned back to Aaron, and grabbed him on the shoulder. In a quiet voice Flare said, “Do you know what goblins do to prisoners? The pain you feel now is nothing to what's coming.” He had to get Aaron moving.
But how?
“If you can’t make it, I’ll have to take mercy on you. I’ll finish you quickly.” He made as if to draw his sword.

Understanding dawned in the eyes of Aaron.
“What?!”

Flare’s words had the desired effect, as Aaron scrambled to his feet. He looked unsteady, but he maintained his balance, although he kept glancing in Flare's direction.

Flare grabbed him by the shoulder and drug
him. They moved toward the walls as fast as they could, but they barely could maintain a slow jog. They moved toward the gates and back toward Trestus and Enton, hoping that they could catch them.

It was the longest walk of Flare’s life. His whole body was sore from the burns and blisters, and it hurt even to breathe. They continued to press on, but he had to stop several times to push Aaron on, although Flare himself wanted to stop. He forced one foot in front of the other, not even looking where they were going. He stopped walking when he realized that he was about to walk over Enton.

Enton was standing with his hands on his hips, breathing deeply. Trestus was lying on the ground at Enton’s feet, and he too was breathing heavily.

“Enton.
How did we catch you? I thought you would be at the fort by now.” Flare asked.

“We would have, but some of the goblins survived the blast, and they’re between us and the wall.” Enton answered.

Flare looked out over the remains of the attackers, and was surprised to see that they had only covered half of the distance to the fort. Burnt and charred bodies were scattered everywhere. Most of the goblins had perished in the fire blast, but maybe a hundred had survived. Even though they were only about a hundred yards from the wall, there were a growing number of goblins in their way.

“We had better hide, before they spot us.” Flare said, sighing.
‘
Why can’t anything be easy?’ He thought in disgust.

“Too late,” was Enton’s quiet
reply.

Several black goblins had taken charge, and were trying to bring some form of order to the survivors.

Flare watched in dismay as the goblins slowly moved toward them. He began to immediately look around, hoping to find a position that could be held against superior numbers. His hopes were quickly dashed.

Panic began to slowly rise in Flare, as his death quickly approached.

The quiet was broken by Enton drawing his battle ax from his pack. “I guess I will get a hero’s death. It’s a shame nobody will ever know.”

Enton's sad tone touched the very core of Flare’s being. All thoughts of panic vanished quickly, and were replaced with an utter calmness that filled him with resolve. “If this is the day that the gods have chosen for us to die, then so be it. But let us make them proud.” He answered.

Flare saw grim agreement in the face of Enton, but Aaron and Trestus were beyond the point of caring. In fact, he thought that they might even welcome death, as a release from the pain.

Flare shook his head to clear it of such thoughts, and drew his sword. He turned toward the goblins, and waited.

The goblins didn’t take long to surround the humans, forming a circle around them.

After several moments, a large and ugly goblin stepped forward and spoke, “Youse caaann’t git baack.
Giive op.”
He said.

It took a moment or two before Flare realized what he was saying, but it didn’t matter. There was no way they would willingly go with the goblins. A death on a goblin sword was much preferable to being one of their prisoners.

Flare chuckled, more as an insult than in merriment, “Ugly and stupid. That’s quite a combination.”

The goblin simply stared for a minute, hate showing in his eyes.
“Giit dhem.”
He said.

Flare and Enton stood back to back over Aaron and Trestus.

A horrible thought occurred to Flare, “Enton. The last thing you do before you die, is finish Trestus. I’ll take care of Aaron.” He paused, but Enton didn’t answer.
“Enton?
You do know what goblins do to their prisoners, don’t you?”

“I don’t agree with it, but I will do it. May Adel have mercy on
us.
” Enton answered.

The first charge, the goblins were overconfident. They rushed the soldiers, thinking their superior numbers would overwhelm them.

Flare deftly knocked the first goblin's sword to one side, and then reversing the motion of his sword, he gutted him. One lesson he had learned from his instructors, was that any advantage was to be exploited. The goblins were still disorientated, and he preyed on this by gutting the first goblin and leaving him alive to scream. He hoped that he would further demoralize them, and gain some time for the soldiers.

Flare could hear the thunks, thuds, and screams that came from behind him. Apparently, Enton was causing some damage with his ax.

The black goblin screamed something quickly in
his own
language, and pointed at Flare. Six of the goblins, closest to
Flare
, drew their swords and advanced.

‘Six!?
I could handle two, maybe three, but not six!'
Flare thought. Glancing down, he located the prone form of Aaron.
“Enton.
Get ready. They’re fixing to rush me.” He said almost choking on the words. He drew his knife with his left hand.

The first of the goblins reached Flare, and jabbed his sword at Flare’s midsection. Flare parried the thrust, and swiped the knife, which was in his left hand, across the eyes of the goblin. The goblin fell to his knees, screaming and grabbing his gory face.

The second goblin reached Flare, and raised his sword to deliver a massive blow. Flare jabbed his knife at the throat of the goblin, and stabbed him cleanly. The goblin had already started his swing, and it was too powerful. The massive swing slammed into Flare’s sword knocking it from his hand. Flare, stunned by the blow, fell to his knees. The goblin also fell to the ground, dead before he landed. However, the damage was done, as Flare was stunned and armed only with his knife.

The third goblin to reach
Flare,
grinned an evil grin and raised his sword.

Flare watched the sword, as it began its descent. The sword seemed to move at an impossibly slow speed, and he wondered if it would ever reach him.

Halfway through the swing, a horse barreled into the goblin sending him sprawling. The rider, a massive black man, swung a pike beheading another goblin, and impaling another.

“Quickly Flare. Put Aaron across my horse.” The rider shouted turning the horse around.

Only when he spoke, did Flare's numbed senses recognize the rider.
“Atock?!
 
How ..
”

“No time. There are more goblins are approaching. Quickly, get him up here.”

Flare scrambled to his feet, and saw forty to fifty mounted soldiers scattering the goblins. He had a hard time keeping the ground from spinning. Losing his balance, he fell flat on his face. Spitting dirt, he fought to remain conscious.

Several moments passed and Flare began to feel better. Then, all of a sudden, rough hands gripped him by the shoulders and pulled him to his feet. It took several moments, but he finally recognized Philip.

“Philip. What’s going on?” Flare finally
managed,
his voice cracking.

Philip didn’t even waste any breath answering, instead he leaned Flare against a horse. Philip quickly mounted, and then reaching down he pulled Flare across the saddle horn. Turning the horse, Philip raced back toward the open gates of the fort.

Flare had never felt something as horrible as the ride back to the fort. The saddle horn repeatedly pounded into his stomach, bruising him badly. The one good thing about the pain was that it helped clear his mind. By the time they had regained the safety of the fort, he was quite conscious, although he would rather have preferred to be unconscious.

Philip rode the horse just inside the gate, where a group of soldiers waited for them. The soldiers, including Kara, gently helped Flare off the horse and laid him on the ground.

Flare was getting woozy once again, but he focused on Kara’s face as she bent down over him.

“You look horrible,” was all she said.

“You don’t look too good either,” Flare replied, grinning.

Kara ignored his attempt at humor. “You’ll live.
Minor burns and some bad bruises.
You got a knot on your head, but I don’t think it’s serious. I’ll be back.”

Flare wondered at her abruptness, but when he rose halfway up, he realized she had left to attend to Enton, Trestus, and Aaron.

Another wave of nausea swept through his head, but this one was milder than the previous ones. He struggled into a sitting position, wincing at the pain in his stomach. He was pleased to see Atock and Philip approaching.

“Hey. It looks like I owe you both. Whose idea was it to come after me?” Flare asked.

“We wouldn’t watch a companion die, and do nothing.” Atock said, stoically. “We did nothing that you wouldn’t have done for us.”

“Well, thank you anyway. What’s our situation?” He asked. “Did we suffer any major losses?”

“No. We would have if you hadn’t pulled off that little stunt of yours.” Philip answered. “We managed to keep most of the goblins off the wall until you burnt them up.”

“Excellent,” Flare said.
“Every extra day we hold onto the wall, is another day for Heather to find reinforcements.”

“If she got out at all.”
Atock said. “Philip didn’t tell you the bad news.”

Flare, with a cold feeling settling in his gut, looked from face to face trying to determine what they were talking about.
“Well?!
What is the bad news?”

Philip glanced at Atock before continuing, “It’s the gates Flare. They took a massive beating from the magicians. We don’t think they’ll hold against even a modest assault. It would probably only take a couple of trolls, or even some goblins with a battering ram to beat the gates down. Not only that, it looks like several parts of the wall might collapse as well.”

Flare rested his head in his hands as the pain began to sweep through his head again, only this time the pain intensified instead of lessening.

‘I can’t win. We score a major victory, and in it we discover the key to our total defeat. Why can’t anything be easy?’ Flare thought.

The gates were indeed a mess. They were still attached to the walls, and still shut tight, but they were in bad shape. The heat from the magicians spells had actually started to warp the metal parts of the gates and several portions of the wall were damaged although still standing.