The Goblin and the Empire by JD Cole

Author:JD Cole [Cole, JD]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-07-08T22:00:00+00:00

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The battle was drawing to a close, Maxillion sensed. More than just the looming sunset, what had started as a slight drizzle an hour ago was now a torrential downpour. Even the necromancers had difficulty making their goblins mobile in the mud.

The elf let out a heavy breath as he searched for another enemy to engage, but his fellow soldiers had things well in hand. When the goblins and irenaks already on the field were dispatched, the two armies would once again retreat to wait out both the rain and the night, and resume the killing in the morning. The mood had been somber ever since the Goblin King made his appearance yesterday, killing more faeries in a few heartbeats than had died throughout the entire campaign so far.

Lagraen trudged over to Maxillion, his beard and armor all but lacquered with blood and bile despite the rain. He now carried a large slash down the length of his left arm, where an irenak had managed to miss his neck but nearly removed his arm instead. The wound had been treated and sealed up yesterday, but now the bandages hung loose after a long day of fighting.

“I guess we’ve been rewarded with the chance to do this all again tomorrow, eh?” the dwarf said.

Maxillion was too tired to reply with anything more than a nod. He looked around and spied Dex, a pile of goblin body parts on the ground around him. Their fellow ranger, Padessi, had been killed three days ago by two irenaks, his body instantly transported back to Jenshire by General Khun Rhee’s magic to prevent his becoming a goblin. Maxillion and Dex had internalized their grief; Padessi had been wed just a few months ago, and now his wife was unknowingly a widow, his unborn child fatherless.

Morale had been low ever since the Goblin King’s surprise attack, and it was very noticeably affecting how the elves fought. Their resolve at the start of the war several weeks ago was now closer to desperation and despair. It was hard to walk anywhere in the camps lately without hearing the whispers about Khun Rhee’s previous failed attempt to conquer Matari several centuries ago; there were quiet murmurs that they were all headed to a defeat as momentous as that one had been. Maxillion tried not to think about it.

Nearly three thousand faeries had died in that war, and a third of that had already perished in this one, most of them in one day.

With the battle concluded, he silently marched back to camp with his battleprok. Blademaster Denn walked among them, his gherat having been wounded several days ago. He moved from one troop to another, silently giving them what encouragement he could with a pat on the shoulder, or a nod of the head. He took the time to walk with Maxillion for a few moments.

“You did well today, ranger.”

“Thank you, sir,” the blue-haired elf replied. “If only we all possessed your skill and experience, maybe we’d have taken the walls by now.

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