The Land of Broken Roads - The Druid - Chapter 26
Only eight men had been wounded to the point of death and Socks made quick work of those. Another six had been bitten by goblins, and they seemed more serious and ashen-faced than the man holding his guts in, or the two who had passed out from blood loss and awoke expecting to see the afterlife. Once all those were taken care of, Socks made an exception to Dirt’s ‘only the dying’ policy and had a man hold a severed hand in place while he licked it, just to see if it’d work. It did, it turned out; the bone remained severed, but all the flesh sealed back together.
During the last few treatments, Dirt heard a loud clattering sound but was too distracted to pay attention. When Socks was done, however, he saw that the Duke’s armored horsemen had arrived, riding up the street five abreast in tight formation. They carried tall spears on one side and shields on the other, and Dirt had never seen fighters so grand, not even in Prisca’s memories.
Some wore richly-embroidered tabards over their chests, and others carried flags, or had ribbons tied to their lances or around their arms. Even the horses themselves were dressed and armored, so well-covered that Dirt still wasn’t sure what a horse was supposed to look like. The armored men matched the palace, Dirt decided, as prime examples of human accomplishment—skillfully ornamented and redoubtable.
They couldn’t get the horses too close, though. The animals could see Socks in the middle of the road and probably smell him, and no amount of training or encouragement was going to get them any closer.
-So much for those things being good at fighting,- said Socks, just to Dirt. -Do you think those men would have to get off if they wanted to poke me with their lances?-
“That just proves the horses are smart,” replied Dirt. “What should they do, come up and lick you? Do horses lick?”
-They have tongues and everything with a tongue can lick.-
“Humans don’t lick each other to say hello. In fact, I don’t think they lick each other at all.”
-You have not met enough humans to say so,- said Socks. -You should try licking the next humans you meet, so we can see what happens.-
Dirt grinned at that, finding the picture amusing. But then he thought about it and wondered why it was funny and why it seemed so strange. Maybe he should try it one of these days. Although… “Maybe I will if I see the Duke do it.”
He and Socks both looked at the Duke, who was patting his own horse, its brown and white spots only scarcely visible under a barding of silk and gold thread. Two youths stood nearby holding armor far more ornate than any of the rest, probably waiting for the Duke’s command to put it on him.
The Duke noticed their gazes and left his entourage to walk over at a brisk pace. Two attendants with swords followed hurriedly behind, taking deliberate effort not to look like they might be trying to threaten the giant wolf, which Dirt and Socks both found droll.
“Socks, a question,” said the man, standing straight and fearless, only a few steps away from the pup’s nose. “Would you be able to lift the gate away to allow my men a charge, then close it again? And open it again when they return?”
-Yes.- The pup stood and wagged his tail, mouth hanging open. -Are they ready now? Wait, I want to watch.-
Socks radiated excitement as he hopped up onto a nearby house, walking to the edge where he could peek over the wall. The building creaked beneath him and some of the tiles cracked and slid off with a loud clatter, but it held him. He wagged his tail ever harder as he looked out into the field, then back at the men, and back out again.
-I am ready. You men, go and I will open it just in time, so the goblins don’t all get in.-
Dirt decided he wanted to see the moment when they first crashed into the goblins and hustled over to the gate, slipping easily between the handful of defenders waiting behind it. He stood right up against the stone wall, only a step or two away from the opening, where he’d get the best view of their charge.
Surely the Duke hadn’t meant they were going to go right now, and surely Socks knew that, but he was too excited and couldn’t help himself. And besides, the Duke wasn’t put off-balance by the pup’s haste in the slightest; at least, if he was, he didn’t show it. He raised his hand and spoke with a voice that echoed off the stones, “The gate will open for your charge, and open again for your return. In my name, and for the glory of our King, Charge! Charge now!”
Socks eagerly lifted the gate a few inches just so they’d get the idea, and to their credit, the men lowered their lances and spears and spurred the horses forward. Dirt watched in surprised respect at how fast the horses allowed themselves to be driven right into a closed gate; they must be plenty smart after all and knew what was happening. He wished for the hundredth time that the city wasn’t so crowded it blinded his mind-sight.
At just the last moment, when the lead horse was turning its nose and obviously about to try and stop, the gate flew upwards, to the surprise of the dozens of goblins hacking away at it with rusty swords and axes.
The horsemen smashed into the crowd of squirming green bodies with a resounding percussive force. And they kept coming, row after row of them, charging forward and shredding the fallen goblins with their hooves. They didn’t even need those long lances—with the goblins only as tall as a human child, the armored horses barely even slowed running them over despite their thick musculature.
Dirt watched, entranced, his ears filled with their thunder, until the last rank of horsemen had passed the gate. Right on cue, the heavy wooden door slid back down and shoved itself forward a few feet to rest in its frame.
-Look at them go! They are just stomping all over the goblins. They don’t even need the armor,- said Socks loud enough for everyone to hear and still wagging his tail hard enough to knock people over. Good thing he was on a roof.
Since there wasn’t much to see until they came back, Dirt made his way over to the ladder and climbed up onto the wall so he could watch. The walkway atop the wall was wide enough for two men to walk side-by-side, but that was all. Its height made it feel much narrower, even though the stone walls to either side made it impossible to fall off.
“You shouldn’t be up here, boy,” said one of the archers, a long-faced man with stubble instead of a beard whom Dirt had never noticed before. Despite his words, he made no effort to usher Dirt back down.
“I just want to see the horses,” said Dirt, making no effort to move if they weren’t going to force it. “Say, has this ever happened before?”
“Never so many,” said the archer. “And they’ve never been smart enough to hack at the gate. That’s new. My turn for a question. Did they chase you all the way here? Is that why your, uh, friends were in such a hurry to get in?”
“No, not even a goblin is stupid enough to chase Socks,” said Dirt. He was glad he’d come up here—the view was fantastic, plenty high enough to see the armored horsemen cutting through the army like so much waving grain. They’d spread out into more of a wedge than a mallet and left a trail of muddy carnage behind them, making their passing unmistakable.
“Okay, I have another question,” said Dirt. “With those armored men and horses, how come the goblins are still a problem?”
“Couple reasons. One is they don’t form into armies very often. Usually just little groups, sneaking around hunting for whatever meat they can find. Hasn’t been safe to farm out there for years, and there’s no way to get them all. Two, that’s a lot more dangerous than it looks,” said the archer.
“Why’s that?”
“That’s every horse the Duke has out there. All sixty or so. A few go down, and the best case is they don’t have enough horsemen for a second charge. Worst case, the formation falls apart and we lose everyone who can’t make it back on foot.”
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“The armor should keep them alive, though. There’s nowhere for a goblin to stab,” said Dirt.
“Sure, but if they pull you down, you’re not getting back up, and they’ll get that armor off you eventually. Just takes one bite to kill, after all,” said the man. He lowered his voice and looked around a bit guiltily, even though the man to the right and left of him would hear it regardless. He asked, “My turn for a question. I’ve heard whispers they saw an avitus, around the time your, uh, friend came in. Did you see one? Do you know anything about that?”
Dirt kept his face blank while he thought about how to answer. “What does an avitus look like?” he asked.
The man’s neighbor answered for him. “An old man wearing a white gown, or maybe it’s supposed to be a robe. He walks through town and any child he touches gets palsy. It’s a stupid story.”
“No, the way my parents tell it, is it only looks like an old man until you get close. It’s a monster in human disguise and it kidnaps children and burns them alive.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that version, too. And the one where he goes around pointing at things, and everything he points at will collapse or die before the next full moon,” said the neighbor. “And the version where it’s a shapechanger.”
“Well,” said Dirt truthfully, “I didn’t see anything like that.”
The horsemen in the field turned to make an arc through the rear of the goblin army, where the bodies were much less dense. Dirt expected them to cut right across to the other side, then angle back inward. They left a trail that was easy to follow, and Dirt kept glancing along it to see if anyone had fallen or been separated, but so far, so good.
-COME BACK NOW. RIGHT NOW,- said Socks, loud enough to give Dirt a brief, mild headache. All around, people ducked or reacted in some other way to the wolf’s voice thundering in their minds. Way out in the field, a ripple of recognition passed through the horsemen’s formation and one man raised his banner and waved it. The horsemen turned an impressively sharp corner and made directly for the gate. The distance they now had to cross, and the horde of raving creatures covering it, looked much more sinister now.
“What is it?” asked Dirt aloud, since Socks would hear him regardless.
-Something half-dead is coming. More than one, I think.-
“Where?”
-I don’t know.-
Dirt looked up, and there it was—the same ripple overhead, circling slowly as it watched them.
-Not that. FASTER. HURRY.-
The horsemen could only go so fast, but it looked like they tried, spurring their horses and crushing everything in their path. Two hundred paces. A hundred and eighty.
Between the horsemen and the gate, a thin, green arm as long as four horses together rose from the midst of the goblins, followed by another, and another. A monstrosity vaguely shaped like a spider arose, all made of writhing, sickly flesh the same color as the goblins. It had no teeth or even a face, just arms and legs and limbs that were a wretched combination of the two jutting out from a flat, round body.
Every man on the wall gave a cry of terror or alarm, and Socks kept jutting forward, as if wanting to run out there and fight it. The gate. He didn’t want to drop the gate and let them all in, and he couldn’t fight while holding it in place.
“Report! Report!” shouted the Duke from below, but he didn’t get one; what were they supposed to tell him? A few men glanced back toward him, faces pained, but couldn’t sum it up in a return shout.
“Socks, lift the Duke up to the wall. I’ll make room,” Dirt said, directly to the pup’s mind. He wrapped both arms around the waist of the man he’d been talking to and carried him out of the way rather than waste time trying to explain. And sure enough, just as the man began a confused splutter of protest, the Duke floated up and landed in that spot, as gracefully as if he’d done it by himself.
“My lord!” said the men close enough to notice, but the Duke gave them no more than a nod as he gazed out into the field of battle. His hand shot to Dirt’s shoulder and grabbed it tightly once he saw the spindly green monstrosity, and Dirt felt tremors of fear in the man’s fingers that didn’t reach his face.
“We shall have to trust them. They are the finest among us,” said the Duke, his voice quiet despite the noise around him.
The horsemen didn’t turn aside and try to go around like Dirt expected. They slowed, horses rearing to stomp on any goblins who approached as they readjusted their formation. Those who still had lances moved to the front and the edges of the wedge tightened, narrowing the focus of their attack.
They spurred their horses forward again, giving a great shout that cut through the screams of goblins and the cries of the men on the wall and gripped Dirt’s heart, electrifying him.
The goblins between the monstrosity and the horsemen realized the danger they were in and gave up trying to fight. They clawed and bit each other instead, pushing down their fellows and climbing over them as they fought to get out of the way.
Every man on the wall held his breath to watch the charge. The monstrosity turned to face the riders, even though it had no discernable front or back, and raised three of its limbs. Hands the size of barrels curled into fists and waited.
The first lances stabbed its contorting limbs just as it swung down, hammering into the front of the armored formation. The lancers left their weapons in its body and rode onward, but not everyone followed. Four horses had been killed instantly, their riders crushed as well or thrown to the side, and the creature raised it fists again, four of them this time, and hammered down at an angle instead to sweep the next rank of riders to the side.
But the men on the ends hunkered under their shields and deflected the blows upward, even while its monstrous strength threw them to the ground. The formation was secure, and the next rank of riders crashed into the beast. Some stabbed with lances and others struck it with their shields. The effect was immediate.
It shuddered and flailed, injured and dangerous. It jumped to the side, landing in the crowd of struggling goblins, and changed its tactics, grabbing riders off their horses instead. Two it tossed away, and Socks caught those right out of the air and brought them back over the wall. But the others weren’t so lucky, getting dropped on the ground and then hammered with its barrel-sized fists.
The right side of the formation curved away to charge directly at it, their lances aimed straight at the monster’s core. It tried to swat them away like the others, but too many of its limbs were injured and it failed to protect itself fully. It crushed one more horse’s head and cracked the legs of another, but that wasn’t enough. A lance punched into its body and the man rode right under it to get back into formation. Then the next, stabbing it a second time and leaving the lance in place.
The monstrosity curled up into a ball and simply waited for the rest to pass. The goblins screamed in anger and rushed for the horsemen again, but it was too late to stop their charge and they rode at full speed toward the closed gate.
“See how they trust me,” said the Duke, his face unable to hide the pure emotion that held him.
At the last moment, Socks flung the gate upward again, with such sudden strength that the return force on his body pressed him right through the house he was on, collapsing it with a loud crash.
The riders charged inside an instant later and everyone raised their fists and voices in a shout of triumph. Socks flailed to extricate himself from the ruined house, throwing planks and stones every direction until he could crawl out and stand back up. When the last horseman passed through, he brought the gate down and slid it back into place.
The Duke hastily climbed down the ladder to greet his men and get their status, but Dirt kept his eyes on the field for a moment longer. And it was a good thing he did, because the monstrosity rose again and pulled the lances out of itself, one by one. Most it threw away, but two it gripped for its own use.
Socks hefted a long beam from the fallen ruin of the house and placed it against the gate. -Hold this for a moment,- he said. -You, you men standing there. Put your hands on it. Hold it. Right now.-
Once a few defenders braced the beam, the gate loosened in its place to indicate Socks had let go of it.
-I’ll be right back,- said the pup. Socks effortlessly leaped over the wall, landing lightly on the field of battle. He ran out toward the fallen horsemen, ignoring the goblins useless attempts to swat or bite him as he passed. He found one, and lifted him out of danger with his mind, then another. And another.
The monstrosity hesitated, its many wounds oozing a thick, dark-brown fluid that swallowed the sunlight, and Socks was content to ignore it until he found them all. Then he raced back over the wall and gently set the recovered horsemen alongside the other injured soldiers.
Dirt jumped clear off the wall and ran right over to the gate, resting his hand on its planed wood surface. It was smooth beneath his fingers, the old polish still holding strong, at least on this side.
Working with dead wood was much, much harder, but not impossible. Dirt inhaled mana and told it to grow. Grow, grow, he commanded, and it grew, slowly, resisting, taking far more mana than living wood. This door had been dead for ages, decades or more, but the word of magic the dryads taught him commanded it nonetheless. He drew more and more mana, inhaling it as fast as he could to fuel the process of growth and expansion.
The brace holding the gate up fell aside with a heavy thump as the door grew tendrils that grew into thick branches that grasped the stone gateway tightly, both front and back. It expanded in every direction, thickening and pressing the arch above its frame upward until gaps appeared between the stone. Dirt breathed more power into the process until its bumpy surface filled the entire gateway, flush with the wall and held in place by branches thicker than a man’s leg that stretched three paces in every direction.
Dirt turned to see a sea of stunned faces. Everyone had been watching him do it. They all knew, now. He hesitated, almost hiding behind the Home-staff.
But before anyone shot him with an arrow, the Duke raised his fist and gave another shout of triumph. An instant later, so did everyone else and Dirt was so relieved he almost cried.
Men stepped over to pat him on the head or shoulder, smiling widely, leaving Dirt to grin back and nod awkwardly. First a few, but then twenty and more. So many rough hands on him should have been uncomfortable, but instead, he found they made it feel warm inside his chest.
The archers gave a cry of their own and started firing their arrows. The Duke shouted, “Report!”
“My Lord, it’s still alive but it’s too injured to climb up!”
-Then save your arrows. I smell others on the wind coming down from the hills,- said Socks. And with that, the temporary moment of jubilation ended.
