Chapter 26: Trouble

The slow, rhythmic thud of hooves striking parched dirt echoed as fifteen men atop horses strode forth, surveying their surroundings. They carried with them the banner of a blooming red rose, the sigil of House Sterling. At the head of the column rode Ser Kerwin alongside his second-in-command, Collin.

​The veteran knight slowed his horse as he approached a weathered wooden sign at the crossroads.

​Fallcreek.

​Nestled just below Bleakpoint Mountain, Fallcreek had been one of the first villages to report the unusual drought. At first, the locals assumed it was normal due to the higher elevation. But when the wells and creeks continued to dry up despite ample rainfall, concern quickly turned to panic.

​Eventually, the water dried out completely, forcing the villagers to abandon their homes. Now, the settlement was a hollow shell of its former self. Houses stood in disrepair with broken fences and shattered roofs. None of its once-lively atmosphere remained, the only signs of life being the mounted patrol passing through its desolate streets.

​Now that the drought seemed to be spreading across the Western Marches, Kerwin knew that time was of the essence.

​"It's gotten worse," Collin remarked, pulling Kerwin from his thoughts.

​Kerwin looked at his second-in-command, then back toward the village square ahead. "It seems so. Let's go. Let's hope we find something here."

​The men dismounted, their boots crunching against the dry soil as they began their investigation. They checked inside the rotting homes, examined the fractured ground, and inspected the withered trees, looking for any anomaly.

​Kerwin approached an old stone well in the center of the square. He ran his gloved hand across the weathered masonry, accidentally dislodging a small piece of loose stone. Looking down into what appeared to be a gaping shaft of endless darkness, he tossed the stone in.

​He waited...

​And waited...

​And waited...

​Thud.

​The distant sound of stone striking dirt finally echoed back up the shaft.

​Strange, Kerwin thought to himself, his brow furrowing. That took far too long.

​He leaned closer to peer into the abyss just as Collin approached him from behind.

​"Find anything, Commander?" the younger knight asked.

​"I'm thinking we send a team of workers back here to dig out this well," Kerwin replied, staring into the dark. "Something isn't right here."

​Collin looked at his captain with discerning eyes, but he trusted the veteran with his life and obeyed without question. Turning back toward the squad, he called out to one of the men.

​"Bring the messenger bir—"

​Before he could finish the command, the ground beneath their boots shuddered violently.

​CRACK!

​The old well collapsed inward, the earth giving way as a giant sinkhole opened up beneath the square. Kerwin and Collin threw themselves backward at the last second, barely scrambling clear as the masonry and surrounding dirt vanished into the yawning chasm.

​"God damn!" Kerwin wheezed, breathing a heavy sigh of relief as dust blanketed the square. "Collin! You okay?"

​Collin coughed, pushing himself up and dusting off his iron chestpiece. "I'm fine, Commander. You?"

​"I'm okay," Kerwin grunted, dusting himself.

​Hearing the thunderous collapse and seeing the massive plume of dust erupt into the sky, the rest of the squad drew their weapons, thinking they're under attack, and rushed into the square.

"Commander! Sir Collin!" one of the knights yelled over the settling haze, his blade held ready as he shielded his eyes against the airborne grit. "Is anyone hurt? Is it an ambush?"

"Stand down! The ground just gave way!" Kerwin called back, waving a hand to clear the dust around him. "Stay back from the edge! The whole square is hollowed out."

The squad lowered their weapons slightly, approaching with cautious steps as they stared into the massive, jagged chasm where the old well had stood just seconds before.

"Did an underground stream wash out the foundation?" Collin asked, creeping carefully toward the drop-off to peer into the void.

"No stream could hollow out a pit this size," Kerwin replied, joining him at the precipice. "Let's check it out."

He turned to his men, "five of you stay here, the rest come with me, we're descending this cavern."

They slowly and carefully climbed down the collapsed hole. As they got deeper, it also grew darker. 

"Lord Decklan," he called out, "we need light."

A young man dressed in armored robes pushed forward. Decklan York, the son of a baron under Duke Sterling, held out his hand and chanted.

"Magelight!"

Just as he did, a small sphere of light manifested from his palm and floated in front him. With the way now illuminated, the group continued their descent. 

Eventually, they reached what seemed to be a tunnel. They continued their cautious descent, gradually, the passages widened, eventually opening into a massive, echoing subterranean chamber.

The sphere of light being insufficient, Decklan stepped to the center of the dark expanse, raising both hands as he chanted a longer, more resonant incantation. 

A surge of mana flared through his robes as he launched a massive, radiant sphere of light high into the dome of the cavern. The magical orb hovered near the ceiling like a tiny artificial sun, casting bright blue-white light across every corner of the massive underground hall.

The knights immediately fanned out with their swords drawn, surveying the eerie subterranean world.

Collin knelt beside a rocky outcrop, running his gloved fingers along the wall before running a handful of soil through his palm.

"It's completely bone dry," Collin noted, his voice echoing in the vast space. He stood up, wiping the dust from his hands as he looked around in bewilderment. "What is this place, Commander?"

Kerwin walked over to a dried, cracked ledge that clearly showed watermarks from years past. "This may have been an underground aquifer, the water table that fed Fallcreek's wells. But look at it now. It's completely drained."

As Decklan's light expanded further, the illumination caught the edges of the surrounding rock face, exposing numerous round, gaping holes carved into the perimeter of the cavern.

"Look," Collin said, pointing toward the walls. "There are dozens of them." He squinted at the nearest opening, which was easily wide enough for three men to walk through side by side. "Are those old waterways too? Channels where the water used to flow in?"

Kerwin approached the mouth of the nearest tunnel, holding his hand up to inspect the surrounding rock face. The stone wasn't smoothed down by centuries of rushing water; instead, it was covered in jagged, uniform claw marks and gouges.

"No," Kerwin said, his voice dropping into a stern, grim tone. "Water didn't make these. Look at the edges. These tunnels weren't formed naturally... something dug them out."

A cold chill ran down Collin's spine as he examined the rough gouges in the stone. "Dug out? By what?"

​Before Kerwin could answer, a low, unnatural vibration shuddered through the dry rock walls.

​Thump. Thump-thump-thump.

​The noise rapidly escalated into a chaotic, frantic roar of clawing feet, screeching voices, and crashing stone echoing from every surrounding tunnel simultaneously.

​"To me!" Kerwin bellowed, spinning around toward the central chamber. "Form a defensive line! Decklan, keep that light up!"

​From the mouth of a massive, freshly burrowed tunnel, dozens of green-skinned creatures burst into the blue radiance of Decklan's spell. Their beady red eyes darted wildly, their green hides caked in stone dust and dried mud.

Kerwin stared at the sheer volume of monsters pouring from the darkness. His veteran eyes calculated the odds in a heartbeat. Ten men in an enclosed subterranean hall against an endless horde.

​"There are too many!" Kerwin bellowed over the deafening screeches, stepping back toward the slope. "We can't hold them down here! Fall back to the surface! Retreat!"

​"Lord Decklan, give us cover!" Collin yelled, swinging his shield to swat away a lunging beast.

​Decklan thrust his open hand forward, his palm blazing with a violent surge of fiery mana. "Wall of Flame!"

​A roaring curtain of brilliant orange fire erupted across the cavern floor, severing the path between the goblin horde and the climbing knights. The intense heat blasted back the lead monsters, their high-pitched screeches turning into agonized shrieks as the fiery barrier temporarily blocked the wide chamber.

​"Move! Up the slope!" Kerwin ordered.

​The ten knights scrambled furiously back up the loose dirt incline toward the daylight above. As they neared the top, Collin kept pace alongside Kerwin, his chest heaving as he looked back down at the shimmering wall of fire.

​"Commander!" Collin called out over the roar of the flames. "We can't let this many get to the surface! If a swarm this size scatters into the Marches, every farm and homestead between here and Rosehall is doomed!"

​"I know!" Kerwin grunted, hauling himself over the jagged lip of the sinkhole onto the dry soil of the square. "We hold the rim! Funnel them as they climb out!"

​The ten men breached the surface, reuniting with the five knights who had stayed behind on watch.

​Below them, the subterranean wall of fire flickered and failed under the sheer pressure of the horde. Driven by whatever terror lurked in the dark, the goblins shoved through the dying embers, scrambling over the burnt bodies of their own kin and scaling the steep earthen walls of the sinkhole like a nest of disturbed ants.

​"Form up around the perimeter!" Kerwin shouted, drawing his sword high. "Archers, loose at will! Don't let them establish a foothold in the square!"

​The archers among the squad immediately stepped forward, nocking arrows and firing in rapid succession down into the pit. Steel-tipped shafts slammed into the ascending beasts, sending them tumbling back down into the dark abyss.

​Beside them, Decklan extended both hands over the precipice, chanting swiftly as bolts of blue force shot directly from his palms, blasting clusters of climbing goblins off the steep dirt walls.

​"Draw steel!" Kerwin roared as the first wave of clawing, screeching monsters finally crested the edge of the sinkhole. "Send them back down!"

​The Rosehall knights met the ascending horde with disciplined violence, locking shields and thrusting blades down at every green arm and ugly head that tried to haul itself onto the cobblestones.

Despite putting up a stubborn, disciplined defense, the sheer weight of numbers began to tell.

For every goblin an archer brought down or Decklan blasted off the dirt wall, three more scrambled over the lip of the sinkhole. Squeezing past the bodies of their dead kin, the monsters poured onto the cobblestones, shrieking in a frenzy.

"They're spilling over the sides!" Collin yelled, his blade swinging in a tight arc that cleaved through a goblin's collarbone. "We can't hold the rim!"

"Fall back into the village!" Kerwin ordered, his voice cutting through the din. "Use the alleyways! Don't let them surround us!"

The Rosehall knights executed a fighting retreat, stepping back in tight formation toward the narrow dirt paths between the decaying cottages.

Behind them, the square erupted into utter chaos. The ascending horde didn't fight as a single, organized unit. In their frantic drive to put distance between themselves and the subterranean abyss, scores of goblins scattered wildly in every direction, some bolting straight toward the withered treeline, others sprinting up the cracked hillsides. 

But a massive cluster, drawn by the scent of blood and steel, turned their feral aggression directly toward Kerwin's company, flooding into the village streets after them.

The battle turned into a brutal, claustrophobic brawl. Kerwin and his men held the narrow street between two collapsed stone homes, their shields locked tight as they cut down anything that tried to squeeze through. Decklan fired concentrated bolts of mana directly at the horde, shattering goblin ranks, while the archers drew shortswords to gut beasts that tried to leap over the shield wall.

"Hold!" Kerwin bellowed, driving his broadsword through a leather-armored chest.

But the pressure was relentless. Two knights took deep gashes to their thighs and forearms; another was dragged down briefly before Collin yanked him back into the line by his collar. Blood slicked the dry dirt, and arms grew heavy beneath the weight of relentless steel on iron. 

Little by little, the Rosehall company was pushed back toward the edge of the settlement, their ranks buckling under the continuous tide.

Just as the line reached its breaking point, a low, rhythmic vibration shuddered through the ground beneath their boots, not from below, but up ahead the northern road.

Thump. Thump. Thump-thump-thump.

The sound rapidly swelled into the unmistakable, thunderous roar of heavily armored warhorses moving at a full gallop.

Kerwin glanced up over his shield. Cresting the northern rise, a column of a dozen mounted knights tore through the dust cloud, their warhorses' iron-shod hooves churning the parched earth. 

Above the charge, dark silk banners whipped violently in the wind, displaying a striking sigil: two silver serpents coiled tightly around a golden sword.

House Artos, Kerwin realized, his eyes widening slightly beneath his helm.

At the head of the charge rode a female knight clad in gleaming silver armor, her fiery crimson hair flowing wild from beneath her open visor. She drew a massive broadsword, her voice ringing across the ruined village like a brass horn.

"Knights of House Artos!" she roared, her blade catching the harsh sun. "Show these beasts the might of Artos steel! Cut them down!"

"Artos!" The knights answered.

The Northern cavalry hit the scattered goblins like a falling anvil.

The heavy warhorses trampled through the beasts that had run for the hills, shattering their ranks in seconds. Serah swept her broadsword in lethal, but graceful arcs, severing heads and cleaving through crude armor without slowing her mount's pace.

While half the riders chased down the stragglers fleeing toward the treeline, Serah wheeled her detachment around, executing a sharp, disciplined wheel to slam directly into the flank of the horde pressing against Kerwin's line.

"Reinforcements!" Kerwin bellowed, "hold your ground, men! Reinforcements are here!"

"Oooorah!" The soldiers replied as they dug their steel shields even deeper into the dirt.

Trapped between Kerwin's immovable shield wall and the crushing momentum of the Artos cavalry, the goblin horde was systematically cut to pieces.