The goblins collided with the group of archers with a cacophony of sound. The creatures jeered, trying to unsettle their enemies, though their voices were drowned out by a desperate war cry from both humans and elves. Their larger size meant louder shouts too.

  Without shields or long weapons like spears, the bowmen they had little ways to protect themselves in a straightforward bout. They had to bear the brunt of the assault as their charging opponents barreled forward.

  The first rows had almost no chance to survive. At best, they hoped to take a few opponents out before toppling over from their wounds. Goblins stabbed at every person they could find and took cover behind their shields. If anyone resisted, the sheer force of the wave pushed them back as thousands of bodies collided together.

  Though the casualties were heavy, the taller humanoids had one last saving grace. Their mass was naturally able to better resist the charge. Their enemies couldn’t cut through them like cavalry could and each fallen body was just another obstacle to wade through. Shields, spears, and short legs were all victims of their own success. These fighters were suited for slow, methodical formation fighting, not dramatic charges against undefended targets.

  The battle had devolved into a wild brawl, as the defenders did their best to stay alive. They lashed out, trying to cut through enemy boards and dodge each counterattack in turn. Each attempt was a dangerous gamble, but sometimes it worked.

  The goblins remained disciplined. They used their protection to absorb the brunt of each attack and made sure to respond with spears in turn. The casualties were clearly in their favor, as it was much easier for them to safely deal damage.

  Many of the bowmen tried to pull back, slowly backing away from the melee to be replaced by braver folk. The elves, driven from their homeland, absolutely hated the invaders and were willing to accept higher risk. They already lost one war. Now that hope had returned, many wanted to fight to the bitter end, trying to buy enough time. Even some of the humans, those furious at losing close friends, or too embroiled in the chaos of battle continued, praying that hope arrived before they fell.

  Varre did the best he could. He directed his charge of Royal Guard straight to the front, where the fighting was thickest and his men could deal the most damage to a distracted opponent.

  Heavy, armored horses pummeled through the goblins, as if trying to teach them what a proper charge should look like. A few of the closest warriors tried to turn around and receive the assault in good order, but there was little they could do against such a massive force.

  Horses trampled over shields, while their armored necks and stomachs harmlessly reflected the spears aside. A straight forward confrontation like this required strength, not speed, so the guards geared up appropriately. The kingdom spared no expense when it came to their equipment. Especially for the tip of a wedge.

  Once the first ranks were broken through, the goblins in the center were even more vulnerable. Their tight formation lacked the room to properly turn around and resist their opponents, so they did the only thing left. They fled to the sides, dodging as quickly as they could, only to get trampled by the horses in the back.

  The triangular formation began with a single point, but it widened out with each successive line. Whoever managed to avoid the initial horseman would immediately have to content with the one directly behind him. Then another. Even if they managed to avoid the deadly hooves, sharp lances were scanning the field, with each knight eager for good targets.

  Varre traveled in the center of the formation, protected by multiple guards on each side. Though the maneuver was risky no matter what, no one was going to allow him to stand at the actual front. That position was reserved for the highest ranking, most skilled, and importantly, most well protected of the knights.

  Metal armor could only do so much, so eventually attributes began coming into play. Each of the guards had a lifetime of experience, bolstered by a steady dose of elixir. They simply had more time to develop and resist wounds that could have killed a normal human. Tougher skin resisted bruises that could have been dealt through plate and chainmail and offered a better chance of survival for anything that managed to break through.

  Each of the guards was enhanced, using their supernatural abilities to more accurately aim their weapons and deliver attacks with a brutal force. Their energy reserves were more than high enough to wipe out scores of enemies during a lengthy battle.

  The charge moved through the goblins like water. It was almost strangely effective. Normally, the horses should slow down as the infantry attempted to hastily group together and resist. Then, they could launch a counterattack, surrounding the horsemen and stabbing out at vulnerable flesh. Here, their small size would be another advantage, as the warriors could easily walk beneath the riders and attack unprotected bellies.

  Instead, the goblins fled for their lives, letting the guards proceed against token opposition. It was salvation for the archers, as they now only had to deal with the few survivors who dodged forward instead of back. Varre decided to press his advantage and directed the cavalry ahead to relieve the mages stuck in the middle of the formation.

  The commoners were clearly out of their league and backed away, taking cover among the beleaguered archers. The bravest among them occasionally fired off small attacks against individual enemies, but most stayed put.

  Experienced wizards though could get to work. While physical abilities weren’t their specialty, they too could enhance themselves and benefit from increased stats. They kept a short distance, backing away and throwing out deadly magic at anyone who dared to come close.

  The shaman left his strange blotches hanging in the air, but he seemed either unable or unwilling to cast the same spells down on the ground. He seemed content to watch from a distance as his warriors dueled with the archers, occasionally getting roasted or melted by human magic. He didn’t even seem too concerned about the approaching cavalry charge, only glancing in that direction, as if wondering when exactly the horses would get there.

  Varre noticed the shaman, his long staff standing out above the rows of goblins like a sore thumb and directed the formation to head straight for him. He wasn’t sure how the rest of the army would take the loss of their presumed leader, but at the very least it would solve the problem of the strange magics involved.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Each second got them closer, the rows of spearmen in front parting, as if trying to make way and bring this confrontation closer. The shaman turned around, watching the approaching wedge with interest and waited for more empty space to be cleared up.

  Then, a mere hundred feet before getting trampled, he waved his staff in the air again.

  This time, the black smudge appeared on the ground, cutting across it at a slight curve. As it grew, it headed directly for the first ranks of guards. They didn’t even have time to react.

  When the two forces finally met, horse and rider alike fell into the supernatural hole, screaming for help. The rows behind them pulled to a stop, desperate to avoid the attack, but not everyone made it. Six of the best knights Logres had to offer were wiped out in a couple second, consumed by the strange magic, as their dying screams were quickly drowned out by the clamor of battle. Only a few lucky ones survived, those who happened to fall out of their saddles before the darkness consumed them too.

  Varre was fortunate to avoid the initial attack himself. Had the blotch moved in a straight line, it would have headed right for him. His heart was beating like mad, aware of his near death experience, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet.

  The shaman seemed slightly disappointed, then began to move his staff again.

  “Move!” Captain Hakon yelled grabbing the monarch’s reins himself, “get out of here!”

  There was nowhere to retreat. Now that the cavalry was standing still, the goblins tightened down their formation, ready to box the humans in. They allowed the charge to proceed only to catch them in yet another trap. Now, the riders were a perfect target, surrounded from all sides.

  If the knights tried turning around, ready to fight their way through a sea of goblins, the shaman could take his time, slowly erasing them behind their backs. There was only a single path forward.

  Here, at the center of the melee, the mages managed to carve out a small sanctuary among the enemies. Their spells were keeping their foes at bay, while leaving enough empty space for a few dozen horses to fit in.

  Varre understood Hakon’s desperate plea and headed in the only direction he still could.

  The shaman unleashed another one of his blotches, with another near miss. It appeared just behind the king, slaying another few of the knights and cutting him off from about half of his guards. They couldn’t cross these deadly areas. If they wanted to follow, they’d have to go around and cut their way through rows of spearmen first.

  Though his side was weakened, Varre still had a couple dozen knights at his side. They only had to trample down a few remaining stragglers before they reached the safe haven carved out by the mages.

  Of course the safety was just an illusion. The shaman continued to fire off his attacks, though he seemed to struggle with accuracy. These smudges were smaller than the ones hanging in the air, but they still took out goblins just as often as the humans.

  The situation turned rather chaotic The knights did the best they could, trampling over the last resistance still blocking their way. They ran for their lives, desperately carving out a safe passage. Any second of delay could mean death, so they couldn’t be as thorough as before.

  A few of the enemies managed to get by unscathed, finally encountering the core of the wedge. Jan, Captain Hakon, and Elvira each got to spill blood and even Varre had to stab a goblin that the others had missed.

  The closer they got to their destination, the more the attacks slowed down. It seemed that the shaman was losing track of the humans, the visibility blocked by his own lines. He was willing to sacrifice his own people for the sake of victory, but only if it served a purpose. He wasn’t going to shoot blindly.

  After a few hectic moments the cavalry finally managed to tear their way through to their allies. Instinctively the men headed straight for the archmage. As the most powerful wizard in the army, he was their best bet to stopping this obviously magical threat.

  “Do something about this Kadmos,” Hakon yelled out as soon as the man was within earshot.

  “What the hell do you expect me to do?” the archmage called back, “this is beyond me. Beyond anyone! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

  “It’s just a spell,” Varre replied, pulling his horse to a stop, “can’t you just hit the shaman?”

  “Can’t you see that?” Kadmos raged, wildly pointing towards the blotches still hanging in the air, “that bastard created shields in the sky. Magic doesn’t work on them. We can’t hit him!”

  “Overwhelm them! Or I don’t know, do something! Anything!” the captain urged, “he’s going to tear through our entire army!”

  “We’ve tried!” Perry called back, as her sister frantically nodded, “nothing works!”

  “We can’t beat him here,” Zarkon agreed, remaining strangely calm despite the circumstances, “we need time to research this phenomena. We must retreat for now.”

  “We don’t have time,” Jan barked back, “he’s going to rip us apart! Even if we manage to escape, he’ll eradicate our entire army.”

  The king pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why hasn’t he done it yet? If he could kill all of our forces with a single spell, then why draw us into this battle in the first place?”

  “If we saw this happen from a distance we would have retreated,” the duke shot back, “he had to make sure we committed first.”

  Varre grimaced. “He must have lost thousands of his men already. Tens of thousands. I don’t care how little he cares about his casualties, there must have been better ways to do it.”

  “The elves had never seen anything like this either,” Elvira added, “I’m sure of it. There must be a reason.”

  “Maybe. But how the hell does that help us now?” Kadmos outstretched his arms.

  “There must be some weakness,” the king replied, “maybe he has limited aura. Or a short range. Or he can only cast a single spell at a time. Maybe if we can overwhelm him…”

  His speech was interrupted by a panicked scream from one of the nearby wizards. As the group anxiously argued over the situation, the goblins continued to move. They pulled away from the melee, giving the humans more space to maneuver. Though perhaps they simply wanted to get away from the danger zone.

  Unable to see through his own ranks, the shaman had to approach in person. The spearmen moved aside, giving him a clear overview of the juicy targets. All of the command staff, the strongest knights, and the most deadly mages now found themselves in a single area. Ripe on the platter. The goblin couldn’t help but grin at the sight.

  The humans immediately scattered in every direction they could. There was little rhyme or reason to it, everyone simply hoped that quick movement would help them get away in time. The shaman though already had the best target in mind. He aimed right at Varre, looking the monarch in the eye.

  The king grit his teeth and spurred the horse off to the side. He kept his gaze focused on the enemy, trying to decipher his move and dodge in the right direction. It was a fool’s chance. With the speed of the magical attack, there’d be no way to react quickly enough. Even in his enhanced state. In the heat of the moment though, Varre had to rely on his instincts alone, same as everyone else.

  Then the smudge began to appear right beside the monarch. It spread lightning fast, covering the ground in a pitch black substance.

  The horse kept picking up speed, as if he could understand the threat just as well as the humans. Fortunately, it seemed that the shaman was still struggling with aiming the attack straight and it curved in a wide arc, just as before. The destrier managed to clear it in the nick of time.

  But not everyone was so lucky. Varre glanced behind him, to watch as the attack consumed riders and mounts alike. Several of the nearby knights fell in as well as did two of the wizards with panicked yelps. He recognized one of them.

  Jury’s horse toppled over, dragging her along into the unknowable darkness as her sister watched with a horrified expression. Then the girl disappeared, her screams drowned out by terrified shouting of the remaining survivors.

  But when it came to actually writing it I really struggled with the details. How should it happen exactly? At which exact moment? Would it make sense for the characters to be mounted or on foot, and so on. I think this version finally makes sense.