Battle Of The Glade (part1)

"Oh? Ikaris, you' re here too? And even Krold?" Malia smiled as she walked past him all the while without looking at him. "I hope you don't regret it."

The old shaman silently followed the young chiefess, but she still swept her eyes over Ikaris and Krold with great suspicion. Unlike their previous encounters in the village, Grallu wore a black cloak hiding her wrinkled body and she had traded her walking stick for a long, winding staff covered with puzzling runic inscriptions.

"Malia?! I should have known you'd come too." The handsome man in charge of the other human tribe laughed humorously as he leered at the petite beauty. "My offer still stands, you know."

The young man was less than 20 years old, with a messy blond head of hair, but in a stylish way, a long straight nose, a well defined jaw, prominent cheekbones and large green eyes. With his silver armor and the navy-blue overcoat with gold embroidery he wore over it, he had a swagger that stood out from the aborigines behind him.

In fact, since Malia was wearing a camisole and a skirt made of ordinary ochre-colored linen, he was by far the most striking figure in the clearing.

When he reminded her that his offer still stood, the young woman merely gave him a sly smile,

"I'm far too young to get married. Forget about me, Asselin."

"Haha, I've already forgotten you, but I'm afraid my parents haven't." The man in armor laughed happily. "Or rather, they recognized you. What would happen if the Empire of Maast learned that a certain Malia Varalei was secretly holed up in the Barren Bush? I'm afraid that a legion of Knight-Sorcerers would flock to this jungle to track you down..."

Malia, who until then had been unruffled, shivered a little as she heard her name in someone else's mouth. White as a sheet, she asked between her clenched teeth,

"Who else knows about this?"

"Relax." Asselin spread his arms reassuringly. "As you know, me and my parents are also fugitives. Like you, we are deserters and we stole something important from our clans. You are not the only one who stole an Elsisn Stele."

The nobleman did not fear that his words would reach back to his clan sitting in the Hadrakin kingdom, for his tribe was made up entirely of Otherworlders and deserters from the Great Wall.

Like Malia, he had come here hoping to rely on the Stele to build up an army, and perhaps even establish his own city, or even nation, but the repeated break-ins of the Crawlers had dashed his dreams of grandeur. Today, he had no more disillusionment on the matter. The Great Wall's downfall was inevitable and in a few days, anyone still here would end up as Crawler turd.

Just as Malia was about to ask him more questions, the hobgoblin leading a platoon of goblins armed to the teeth cleared his throat loudly.

"This is an exciting discussion, but I have a tribe to avenge. Oh, and those fruits are mine too." The athletic hobgoblin cackled smugly.

"Klayzer! Learn your place goblin trash!" A muscular, chubby kobold almost as tall as him barked hostilely. "I haven't forgotten all the female kobolds you kidnapped on your last raid. Among them was one of my concubines!"

In response, the hobgoblin picked at his ear with his pinky finger, faking a yawn of boredom. The fat kobold, witnessing his insolence, immediately flew into a rage.

Realizing that the kobold leader was dead serious and about to attack, Klaizer stopped taunting him and reluctantly compromised,

"No matter how many Heart Strawberries we manage to get, I promise to let you pick the first ten. Are we good?"

The goblins protested and booed their leader when they heard his proposal, but a rear heel kick in the nose of the nearest goblin served as a painful reminder that their leader was not someone to tolerate disrespect. The goblin kicked in the nose passed out, the back of his head hitting his back at an angle... worrying to say the least.

He wouldn't be getting up again anytime soon.

"I think you forgot we were there." Asselin laughed softly as he slowly drew his sword, whose thinness and golden cross-guard were more reminiscent of a rapier.

The aborigines behind him cocked their bows and notched their arrows. The four warriors standing at the nobleman's side raised their heavy wooden bulwarks and shakily raised their stone axes and spears.

They were the most skilled fighters of their tribe and had undergone Asselin's rigorous training, but this would be their first experience against so many enemies. Unlike the goblins and kobolds, they were not immune to fear. They valued their lives, however miserable they were.

"The Heart Strawberries are mine." Malia stated matter-of-factly as she pulled out her sword.

She looked lonely compared to the other tribes with dozens of people, yet when she spoke her words seemed credible.

Grallu, who was standing next to her, also waved her staff with determination. These fruits were essential for her recovery, but more importantly they were a valuable resource that would allow them to live comfortably in Ballabyne for some time. Indeed, the shaman was already preparing Malia's escape in anticipation of the Great Wall's fall.

She still had a tiny bit of hope a week earlier, but the population of their village was dropping too fast despite the injection of fresh recruits thanks to the Elsisn Stele. Turning, to Ikaris and Krold, she whispered curtly,

"If you don't want to die needlessly, you better get out of here. A battle will break out at any moment. If we don't come back, gather the other villagers and flee north. Sixty-five kilometers from here is Ballabyne, the largest tribe in the Barren Bush. Tell them you are being sent by the shaman Grallu."

Ikaris and Krold didn't understand why she was telling them all this, but it didn't change their intentions. The warrior was determined to keep an eye on the boy, while the boy was intent on hunting a Demonic Bison to fill his stomach.

For all he cared, these tribes could kill each other. He would not interfere.

The status quo lasted a few more seconds, then unsure of who started it, arrows were fired simultaneously from all three sides, or rather two. The goblins did not use bows, but slingshots or even their hands to throw stones.

Asselin's four bodyguards protected the archers with their shields, stopping most of the kobolds' arrows, but against all odds it was the goblins' parabolic stones that wreaked havoc on their ranks. In an instant, more than half of the archers were hit by a heavy stone. Three unlucky ones were even hit in the head and blacked out on the spot.

The nobleman snorted and let his armor intercept the arrows and rocks, merely blocking with his rapier the projectiles aimed at his face. The goblin and kobold leaders were not to be outdone and deftly avoided the projectiles by ducking to the ground.

The archers of the three tribes were truly a bunch of amateurs. Their accuracy was pitifully low. Unless their shots hit a vital organ, their arrows and stones were not fast enough to mortally wound their victims.

On the side of Malia and Grallu, the young woman cast a glance at the old shaman and the latter stepped forward, twirling her staff.

"Garo, gira, gura, GARI!"

All the arrows and stones were deflected, ricocheting through the air just inches from the two women. It was Ikaris and Krold who cursed them inwardly. If they had not taken refuge behind Grallu, they would have been turned into a pincushion.

The arrows and stones kept being fired indiscriminately for another minute, then the quivers and baskets ran out of ammunition and the fire stopped.

"Now it's my turn. Malia grinned. "Grallu!"

"I know."

The old woman waved her stick and three football-sized fireballs shot out at each of the three tribes.

BOOM!

Asselin dodged with a somersault, but the bulwarked warrior behind him was hit hard and his body burst into flames, the fire spreading out to the warriors and archers standing nearby due to the sudden explosion. Their orderly formation was instantly disrupted.

Much the same thing happened with the kobolds. Their fat chief threw his shield against the flaming ball, forcing it to explode prematurely, but the resulting flame splashes hit a dozen of his subordinates.

On the goblin side, it was even worse, but they were far more numerous and had never relied on discipline to prevail. After a dozen goblins had been immolated, the others indifferently moved past the unlucky ones and charged fearlessly.

In the blink of an eye, more than fifty goblins, thirty kobolds, twenty-five aborigines, as well as Asselin, Malia, and Grallu swarmed into the clearing. Their target: the Heart Strawberries.

Except they had forgotten one thing during their brief skirmish.

MOOO!

Under the command of their Alpha, the herd of Demonic Bison charged with horns lowered and eyes red at the intruders from the four tribes.

Like cavalry rampaging through an army of foot soldiers, the haphazard formation of humans, goblins and kobolds crumbled, with a quarter of them ending up gored and killed on impact.

The battle had only just begun, but it was nearly over.