Perry was absolutely devastated. She struggled to keep her eyes open through her tears, yet she stared at the black smudge covering the ground. As if trying to understand what exactly had happened.

  The magic had just consumed her sister. And there was nothing she could do about it.

  While everyone else tried to keep as far away from the phenomenon as possible, she teetered on the brink, only standing a few feet away, peering into the darkness. If this is what ended Jury, then perhaps it was only right for the second twin to follow behind. They were never apart for long. Maybe they should brave this together as well.

  Varre noticed her stupor and knew he had to do something. She was defenseless in the middle of a battlefield.

  Right now, the goblins have backed away, allowing the shaman to proceed with his destruction at will, but she was still in mortal danger. New smudges could have appeared at any moment and considering their accuracy so far, they could have gotten her by complete accident. She couldn’t stay still.

  The king called out the girl’s name as loudly as he could. He wanted to save her in person, but he knew that he was the shaman’s real target. By getting close, he’d only be putting her in more peril.

  She looked up with a furious expression and noticed the monarch pointing right at the goblin who took her sister away.

  “Perry! Keep moving! The rest of you, kill that goblin!” Varre screamed as loudly as he could.

  He directed all of his nearby knights to break away and go after the target directly. Ordinarily they should have stayed by his side, protecting him during the battle, but with everything falling into chaos standard tactics were forgotten. They had to act now, so the guards left him just in time to avoid another attack.

  The smudge barely missed the king. Had it been but a second slower, it would have clipped his horse’s legs, pulling it down towards their doom. For now he had to run. The only way to stay alive was to move in a zig zag pattern, rapidly changing direction and try to confuse the shaman’s aim.

  The enemy was currently occupied with trying to take out the monarch, and if the humans wanted any chance of victory this stalemate had to continue. Varre had to draw his attention away, spreading his forces over the area and letting the others approach from an unexpected direction.

  The king rode across the battlefield in a wide arc, trying to get as far behind the shaman as possible. He headed straight for the goblin lines, but the spearmen ran away, unwilling to get swallowed up by their own attacks.

  The rest of the his allies focused on dealing with the threat. The knights, after moving out of the enemy’s field of view, charged forward. Unfortunately, the rest of the warriors moved to stop them.

  While the goblins kept away from the deadly magic, they had no qualms about fighting regular soldiers. They quickly formed a dense shield wall, covering their leader’s back. They followed him as he rotated, making it difficult to catch him by surprise.

  The mages also tried to assist. They lacked the Royal Guards’ bravery and many were still in shock after witnessing the strange phenomena take out some of their own, but they did their best. A few backed away, while others looked for their own angles of attack and fired off spells at the shaman’s back.

  Their explosions tore holes in the shield wall, but the goblins quickly replaced each one of their fallen. The humans were too disorganized and struggled to cast coherent spells or plans of attack. Rather than coordinate their efforts and take out the entire enemy formation in a single blow, every man was for himself. Each desperately trying to save their own hide in their own way.

  The barrage of spells had to slow down even more once the cavalry reached the enemy line. The wizards didn’t want to hit one of their own by accident.

  Unfortunately the horsemen were just as chaotic. The knights didn’t have the time to form a proper wedge, desperate to immediately follow their liege’s objective and end the threat. They hoped that the mass of their horses and armor would be enough to break through the enemy, but their previous success was a carefully crafted illusion. This way, the goblins stood their ground.

  While a single rider could manage to break through the first three or four rows of a shield wall, even with only a short wind up, the further warriors would stop him. Even when immediately supported by a second charge off to his side. The formation was too rigid.

  The battle devolved into a desperate brawl, as the knights tried to force their way through. They stabbed with their lances, then disappointed at the slow progress, through them aside and withdrew longswords, trying to cut their enemies down instead. They trudged onwards, spilling blood left and right, but the goblins were ready to replace each casualty with another soldier.

  A few managed to bring down some of the horses, but the guards simply picked themselves back up and proceeded on foot. In some ways this was even more efficient. At least they could more easily reach their enemies, breaking shields apart with powerful swings as their enhanced strength could be utilized effectively from the ground. Spears merely reflected off of their plate, harmlessly passing off to the side and dealing minor bruises at best.

  Even if they didn’t look it, the goblins were just as desperate. The shield wall was haphazardly thrown together and even these elite warriors, specifically selected for this vital strike couldn’t fight as properly as they should. They rushed as quickly as possible, only trying to buy time for their leader.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Normally, they’d try to coordinate their efforts, distracting their opponents from one direction, while a second soldier tried to attack from an unexpected angle. They’d aim for weak spots, like joints. They’d take their time and focus on defense until an opportunity for a safe counter presented itself. In this chaotic brawl though, the only thing they could accomplish was plugging holes in the formation with their own bodies. Everything was up to their shaman now.

  For his sake, he grit his teeth in frustration, unable to get a real hit on the slippery human. The monarch was within reach and yet he managed to avoid every single attack so far. Each was a near miss, but the horse was only getting faster, dodging each smudge no matter how the goblin tried to aim.

  He had one last trick up his sleeve.

  So far, the spearmen were ordered to keep away. Saving their lives was a side effect. The real goal was to encourage Varre to move forward and separate him from his allies. Now that he was alone, they could catch him by surprise.

  The shaman yelled and the goblins stopped their retreat. They turned around and closed ranks, forming a quick shield wall right in front of the king. He didn’t even try to break his way through. His lance was abandoned a long time ago as he focused both of his arms on controlling the reins and trying to dodge each attack. He couldn’t afford to get bogged down now.

  The horse skid to a stop, careful not to slam into the spears glistening in the air. It managed to do so in time, but now Varre was faced with a new problem. He could no longer avoid the coming attack.

  If they were quick enough, the goblins could probably cut down his horse. They’d drag him to the ground and most likely kill him. He’d just have to hope that his armor was good enough to resist their efforts until a rescue arrived. He was sure that Hakon would throw everything aside just to ride to his aide, but would the knights manage to do it before the shaman took them out in turn?

  It seemed that the enemy had another plan in mind. The shield wall stood still, blocking the path forward, while the shaman began to lower his staff.

  Varre couldn’t accept losing without a fight. If the way forward was blocked and there wasn’t enough time to retreat, that left only one choice. The skidding maneuver had already partially turned his horse, so now he simply spurred it onwards, heading straight for the goblin. The distance was great, but the king preferred a low chance over giving up.

  The shaman grinned as the blotch began to form. This time, the hit was accurate. The spell passed through the horse’s legs and it began to fall to its doom. It didn’t even matter that the annoying and unpredictable curve took out a score of spearmen in the process. It was a worthy exchange.

  But Varre was ready. Rather than allowing himself to get sucked in, he jumped off the saddle, clearing the danger zone. He didn’t like abandoning his horse, but thousands of his men had already sacrificed their life for the sake of victory. This was no time to mope.

  He fell to the ground and slid across the soil, but the maneuver only put him closer to the shaman. He picked himself up, drawing his sword and charged onwards, placing all of his hopes in this one attack.

  If it succeeded, then order would return. The situation was dire, but people could begin to coordinate their efforts again. The archers could resume firing in safety, the infantry could fight in formation, the knights could charge through the enemies, and the mages could do what they do best. Everything could be saved if the shaman was slain right here.

  Unfortunately, the distance was still too great. The shaman lowered his staff yet again and cackled as another smudge began to form. Varre no longer had a horse to sacrifice and even with his increased attributes, he wouldn’t be able to jump far enough away to dodge it. The goblin didn’t even seem to care that the attack had wiped out a dozen of his men as it quickly spread towards its true target.

  The king let out a frustrated yell as the blotch approached. From up close he could finally get a proper look at the phenomenon. Instead of pitch blackness as he expected, he saw some strange lights somewhere deep below. He hoped that it would not be the end, that there was some way of coming back from whatever the magic did to him.

  He wouldn’t get to find out.

  Instead, as soon as the smudge touched him, it began to bulge, like a wave slamming against a rock. Then it rippled. Then began to crack. A short distance away, the surface continued to spread unopposed, but quickly the effect started to emanate from his position and overtook the forming blotch.

  It was as if whatever magic this was, wanted nothing to do with Varre specifically. He was anathema to it. Like oil and water. Or paper crinkling when exposed to the heat of an fireplace. The smudge did not absorb him or suck him in as it did to everyone else, but instead it shattered. The effect spreading as the blackness turned into a fine dust, crackling until it disappeared from sight entirely.

  The shaman looked dumbfounded, just as dumbfounded as the king must have. But it was the human who moved first.

  The battle was still ongoing and even if Varre was somehow immune to the strange magic, the rest of his army wasn’t. The goblin still had to be disabled as soon as possible.

  Fortunately, the remaining spearmen had kept their distance. Even the shield wall which blocked the king’s path, was too far away to protect their commander. Those closest have even been wiped out by the latest attack.

  There was nothing left to stop the king from running forwards. The shaman didn’t even try to cast another one of his spells. He simply turned and fled, screaming for the rest of his troops to save him.

  But his legs were too short. Varre reached him and with a single diagonal slice chopped the goblin in half. The threat was dealt with.

  He reached down for the strange staff and lifted it in the air with a loud cheer. By now, his Royal Guards had almost managed to cut their way through on their own. The spearmen ranks were only a few men deep, so the humans could all easily see the proof of their victory held high above the goblins’ heads.

  The rest of the soldiers joined in the roar, as the enemies turned away, trying to see what had happened. Many began to flee on their own, either understanding that the battle was lost, or only to regroup, reform, and continue the fight under more favorable conditions.

  Varre didn’t care about them at the moment. He scanned the faces of his allies across the battlefield, as they all celebrated their victory. A few continued the fight, driving the retreating spearmen away, or firing off explosion spells at their unprotected backs.

  Most had no idea what had really happened out there. From their perspective, the king simply got lucky and managed to dodge all of the shaman’s attacks in the nick of time. A few with more shocked expressions must have witnessed the entire scene in detail, but there was one person who wasn’t as happy about the outcome.

  Perry still sat beside the blotch that took away her sister and stared at Varre with a strange expression. Sadness? Envy? Fury? From the distance, he couldn’t even tell for sure.