Painted in fire and blood, the night had grown long. Parts of Brindlecross were little more than a burnt ruin. The palisade was broken in multiple places, cottages were smashed, and fewer than fifty defenders still stood within the square before the hall. Children cried from the bunker beneath as their parents fought in the streets above, their cries drowned by the guttural roars of the last troll and the ceaseless chitter of goblins.

  The two orc shamans advanced with their mass of defenders, the air thick with their chanting. Their staff glowed sickly green, and waves of malice rolled ahead of them like a tide. With pale faces and hearts already grieving what they knew was the end, the defenders braced their weapons for the final fight.

  A loud horn was blown from deep within the forest, followed by two more from different directions. The sound cut through the battlefield like the voice of the old gods. Battle horns, deep and rolling, echoed across the village of Brindlecross. Every head turned. Even the orc shamans faltered, their ears twitching and black eyes darting in confusion.

  William’s eyes widened. “That horn; it can’t be?”

  One of the grey-skinned adventurers gave a broken laugh. “It is! It’s the King’s army. Reinforcements have come!”

  Hope surged through the battered defenders.

  “Brindlecross, stands!” William roared, his voice carrying above the chaos. “Help is upon us. Keep fighting!”

  The horns blared again, closer now, each note filling the air with the promise of salvation. A heartbeat later came the thunder of hooves, the forest itself seeming to split as cavalry burst from the treeline. Behind them, steel gleamed in the half-light, shields painted royal blue, pikes levelled in a bristling wall. Bringing up the rear, more riders rolled in, sabres flashing silver arcs as they swept forward in perfect formation.

  The goblins froze, their shrieks breaking into ragged cries of fear. Hemmed in between the defenders of Brindlecross and the King’s army, they were trapped between hammer and anvil.

  The battle tide turned like a flood breaking through a shattered dam.

  The last troll lumbered through the chaos, its massive fists swinging to crush the newcomers, but a brace of Royal Crossbowmen let fly. Bolts clattered into its hide, staggering the beast, before a Royal Knight in gleaming blue armour seized the moment. With a roar, he leapt forward, his silver sword carving a blazing arc like a comet sweeping through the night sky. The troll’s neck was cut clean through, and the monster collapsed with a thunderous crash.

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  With a last battle cry, ‘For Brindlecross!’ the village defenders hurled themselves forward, meeting the goblin wave with renewed ferocity. Spears punched into green flesh, blades sang, and arrows hissed into the press of bodies. For the first time that night, it was the goblin warband that faltered.

  Around William, defenders and soldiers fought as one. The dwarf Sibrek split skulls with each swing of his axe, laughing in defiance as he hewed a path beside the King’s men. Even the elderly survivors, bloody and battered, raised their weapons anew, striking down the weaker goblins.

  [XP: +1]

  The orc shamans tried to rally their warband, shrieking in their guttural tongue. Their chants whipped at the goblins, but the soldiers surged through them like a tide of sharpened steel. One shaman was dragged down by spears, its skull crushed beneath a booted heel. The other tried to flee, only for the catkin rogue to finally reach him, her twin blades flashing in the firelight. The orc’s head rolled into the mud.

  With no shaman controlling them, what remained of the goblins broke. Trapped between Brindlecross and the King’s army, they were cut down without mercy. Their screams filled the night until, at last, silence fell.

  William staggered, his blade dripping with blood and his armour covered in mud and gore, he leaned on his sword and looked across the wreckage of Brindlecross. The square was a graveyard; many of the villagers’ homes were nothing but rubble and fire. But through the smoke, he saw the banners of the King rise above the chaos, snapping proudly in the wind.

  The defenders raised their weapons in weary triumph. The horn of salvation had come, and with it, the survival of Brindlecross.

  Smoke curled into the dawn sky as the flames guttered low on the ruined barricades and homes of Brindlecross. The defenders breathed a collective sigh of relief, and the system presented William with a notification.

  [Quest Completed: Defend the Village of Brindlecross]

  [New Title Acquired: Hero of Brindlecross]

  [Reputation Increase for The Kingdom of Mercia +1,000]

  [XP: +200]

  William dismissed the notification; reputation and a title meant nothing against the bodies still lying in the bloody mud.

  The King’s banners snapped in the morning wind, as rows upon rows of soldiers swept through the ruins of Brindlecross. Over two thousand men and women in gleaming armour secured the village, while another six thousand were already moving towards similar villages to protect them from the rising goblin threat.

  The soldiers’ presence filled the air with a sense of order that had been absent during the long night. For the first time since the battle began, silence was no longer broken by screams. They also brought with them healers who attended to the injured.

  The bunker door creaked open. Mothers stumbled out, clutching babes to their breasts, their eyes wide and red from weeping. Children poured into the daylight, some blinking in wonder, others crying as they searched for missing faces among the bloodstained survivors.

  “Papa!” a little boy shrieked as he raced across the churned earth to throw himself into a farmer’s arms. Both wept as they clung together.

  Another girl looked around, her tiny hands gripping her mother’s skirt. When no familiar shape came from the crowd, the mother broke into low sobs, collapsing onto her knees. Around her, neighbours gathered in silence, knowing the father she searched for lay among the fallen.

  Paladin Of The Forsaken Lands which is being edited for release by Aetheon Books, so will likely be stubbed soon.

  Chapter 037 [Game Notification: A Pyrrhic Victory]