Chapter 262: Chapter 261: When the Hunt Begins
His words earned solemn nods from his subordinates.
Eldric rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. "It should ease the weight, maybe even double our speed. At least then, we’ll reach the river crossing within weeks, not months."
Then Lumberling spoke, his tone steady but carrying a weight that made the fire crackle seem louder.
"Tomorrow, you and your soldiers will move ahead with the people. My group will stay behind."
Roland’s head snapped up. "Stay behind? Why would you slow yourself when..."
Krivex interrupted smoothly, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "Because we’ve already spotted movement. Our golden eagles sighted soldiers trailing us. They’re a day away, maybe less."
A heavy silence fell.
Derrek’s fist clenched on his knee. "So they’ve found us."
Skitz leaned forward, the firelight dancing across his sharp features. His voice was calm, almost casual. "As we expected. We’re leading ten thousand souls, stealth is a dream long gone. But don’t lose sleep yet. From the looks of it, they aren’t led by anyone strong. Likely just some Sengolio noble chasing glory with his private host."
Roland’s face tightened, torn between relief and unease. "Even without a strong commander, a few hundred trained soldiers can wreak havoc on a fleeing crowd. A panicked stampede would kill as many as the enemy."
"That’s why we’ll stay behind," Lumberling said firmly, his eyes hard. "We’ll hold them. If they push, they’ll bleed for every step before they ever reach your column."
Derrek leaned forward, searching Lumberling’s face. "And if their numbers are greater than we think?"
Lumberling’s answer came without hesitation. "Then we make them believe they’ve bitten off more than they can chew. Fear is as sharp as steel if we wield it right."
The fire popped loudly, and no one spoke for a long moment. The crackle filled the space where fear might have taken root.
Finally, Eldric nodded slowly. "Very well. Then tomorrow, we move faster. And you... you’ll be the shield that keeps them moving forward."
A faint smile tugged at Lumberling’s lips, though his eyes remained shadowed.
.....
The sky was still dark when the column of civilians slipped away, their weary figures fading into the mist of predawn. Only the flicker of torches marked their slow departure. Behind them, in the quiet clearing, Lumberling stood with his captains and soldiers, checking weapons and tightening straps in silence.
"Bows strung, check your arrows twice," Krivex called out, his sharp voice carrying across the ranks. The goblin’s keen eyes scanned his archer units, each one snapping to attention under his command. "No mistakes when the signal comes."
On the opposite side, Gobo1 adjusted his sword belt while Gobo2 planted his shield in the dirt with a heavy thud.
"We’ll cover the flanks, my Lord," Gobo2 said with a grin, though his tone carried an edge of eagerness.
"Don’t overdo it," Gobo1 added gruffly. "Stay close. We hold the line together."
Aren stood among his elite squad, the faint glow of campfire reflecting off their polished blades. He spoke little, but his men moved with the quiet discipline that needed no words.
Further back, three towering figures prepared the boar cavalry, Takkar, Vakk laughing as he tugged at his mount’s reins, and Sakrn calmly sharpening his axe. The massive boars snorted and stamped, their tusks glinting as the captains swung into their saddles.
Uncle Drake gave his sword a final inspection before glancing at Jen, who adjusted her shield straps. "Stay on my left," he said, his voice steady but protective.
Jen rolled her eyes lightly. "You mean I’ll cover your left, old man."
That earned her a grunt and the faintest smile from him.
Lumberling and Skitz stood apart from the others, their eyes fixed on the horizon. Skitz tilted his head, his sharp ears twitching. "They’re here."
Moments later, the sound of boots drummed the earth. From the haze, a banner rose, rich colors marking the crest of a Sengolio noble. More than a thousand soldiers marched under it, armored in steel and leather, moving with practiced precision.
Among them, Lumberling’s senses flared, he felt the presence of Knights. None too powerful, but enough to demand his attention.
"Just as we thought," Skitz murmured. "A noble’s private army. Hungry for easy prey."
Lumberling’s eyes narrowed.
He raised his hand, and at once the captains moved.
Krivex’s archers loosed a first volley, darkening the sky with shafts that hissed down onto the advancing troops. Gobo1 and Gobo2 surged from the sides with their hunters, striking the exposed flanks. Aren’s elite squad cut forward like a knife, slipping into gaps, blades flashing with deadly precision.
The ground thundered as Takkar, Vakk, and Sakrn charged with the boar cavalry, the beasts crashing into enemy lines with tusks and trampling hooves, scattering men like leaves in a storm.
The ground quaked with the charge. Shields slammed together with a thunderous crack, the squeal of enraged boars splitting through the screams of men. Arrows hissed down like a storm of iron rain, striking shields with dull thuds and bodies with sickening snaps.
Mud splashed under boots, slicking the ground as men stumbled and fell. Blood sprayed in hot bursts across armor, across faces, metallic and sharp in the air. The clash of steel wasn’t clean but deafening, a grind of blade against blade, the shatter of splintering shields, the crunch of bone beneath trampled boots.
From the left flank came a new roar came, deep, guttural, almost reptilian. Forty-two lizardmen surged forward under Kaeldron’s command, their scaled bodies glistening with sweat and war paint.
Towering over most men, they struck with brutal efficiency, their crude axes and spears driven not with wild savagery but with practiced precision drilled into them by Skitz.
Their tails lashed through legs, their claws raked against armor, pulling soldiers into the dirt before finishing them with merciless thrusts. Shields cracked like dry bark under their sheer weight, and their guttural hisses blended with the clash of steel.
Kaeldron himself was a monster at the front, his twin sword cleaving through two men at once. His booming voice cut through the battlefield, rallying his kin. "Strike clean! Leave none standing!"