The sound of morning birdsong accompanied us as we forged down the well-worn trail. As the sun had fully risen, Romund had called for a brief rest break to allow the animals to be fed and watered. I gave Lady and Bella an apple before making my way into the trees for a quick leak. The air was close in the deep shadows of the voluminous trees. It smelt faintly of decaying vegetation, like my friend’s composter. I made sure I was well out of sight before dropping my keks. The twin sensations of an emptying bladder and a straightened spine were pure bliss and I shuddered pleasurably.

My horse riding skill had crept up by a point little under an hour ago. I assumed it would follow the same path as my combat skills in that the further it increased, the amount of practice required would grow commensurately.

The sounds of thundering hooves carried through the trees. A moment later, voices cried out in panic as the rider delivered their message. I shook myself off and hurried back to the trail. The beaten down farmers were bereft, wailing and tearing at their hair.

“What is it?” I asked, grabbing Romund by the arm.

“A warg pack!” he blurted, riven with panic.

I noticed a familiar face that hadn’t been with the trade caravan. His name escaped me as I ran over. “What’s happening?”

“Romund asked me to stay back just in case another raiding party stumbled on the scene. What came out of the forest was far worse.”

“Wargs?” I only had the great Tolkien to go by as I asked, “Tell me about them.”

“There were five of them. The goblin riders were furious, feeding on the orc carcasses. I left as quietly as I could, but I could hear them howling behind me.”

“How far?” I demanded.

“Not far,” replied the man. “Not far at all.”

As if he conjured their hellish cry out of memory, the wargs howled in the distance. When he’d said not far, I had no clue how true his words had been. Everyone started to panic, achieving nothing as they bounced off each other in their attempts to flee. Romund wrestled with a woman who was trying to untie one of the horses from her wagon. My mind was racing as a new quest came live.

Quest – Protect the Wagons (Optional)

Description – The feral wargs have your delicious scent. Nothing short of death can keep them at bay. Stand your ground and fight, or flee for your life and perhaps live, the choice is yours. Will your conscience allow you to leave the villagers as food to allow for your cowardice?

Reward – Simple Longbow

I pushed the ill-timed pop-up aside and concentrated. I realised I needed more information. “Romund!”

“What?” he grunted as the woman kicked him in the shin.

“Do the wargs travel through the trees?”

He’d grabbed the struggling woman in a bear hug and lifted her from the ground where she continued to thrash and scream. “I don’t think so,” he grunted with some effort. “The soldiers that passed through said they kept to open land and trails.”

“Ok, good. Everyone listen!” I roared, stilling the frenzy of panicked activity. “Who has an axe?”

One of the women tossed back a blanket on her wagon and revealed several.

“Good. Here’s what we’re going to do, but we have to do it quick.” I dropped to my knees, pulling out my dagger. “I want a dozen holes in a row just like this.” I carved a deep, angled furrow in the hard earth, facing the way we’d come. The villagers, knowing they couldn’t outrun the enemy, came over and studied my work.

“What are you going to do?” asked Romund.

“Spear the shit out of them if we can,” I replied. “I need the strongest men among you to follow me with the axes. No fear of heights either!” I snatched up one of the choppers, which, to my relief, had been recently sharpened. I heard the crunch of feet following me into the dense forest brush. “Pick a tree, one with a branch at least twice as long as you are tall. The longer the better. I don’t care if you have to climb to the top, just make it quick.”

I found my target a good sixty feet above my head and slipped the axe into my belt. Spurred on by adrenaline, I scurried up those branches like a spider monkey on meth. I found a sturdy branch to stand on and pulled the weapon free. My increased strength saw the limb give way after four solid blows. It sagged, the timber cracking. One final strike and the last fibres gave way, sending it crashing to the forest floor. There was another ideal candidate a few feet higher, so I carefully circled the thick trunk and hacked that one free too.

“Oh shit,” I muttered as I started to descend.

It was all fun and games as you were climbing, only the distant sky to worry about which was so far away as to be unfathomable. On the way down, you couldn’t help but see just how far and painful a fall would be. The others were of a similar mind and took their time in getting down safely.

“Good! Now drag them back to the road as quick as you can!”

We took them under our arms and force marched through the brush, the little branches snagging and slowing us down. Off in the distance, but far closer than they had been, the wargs shrieked gleefully as the strength of the scents grew. There was a hunger in the cry, and I was in no doubt as to what they craved.

“Will this work?” begged Romund as we crashed back out onto the trail.

“It better,” I replied, dropping my haul. “Now we need to strip them and sharpen them, there’s not much time.”

I didn’t wait to see if they’d understood me, instead opting for the monkey see, monkey do method. The tiny sprouts from the inches thick branch came off with minimal effort. “Toss the bits in the ditches,” I ordered. “I don’t want them to have any clue about what they’re coming up against. Can the rest of you start gathering as much loose mud as you can and lay it in front of the holes?”

Romund collected the people who began to paw handfuls of dry earth into position. I twisted my makeshift spear, slashing diagonally up the length to form a wicked point. To my relief, the others had already done the same and we were nearing a good number of pikes with which to surprise the goblin riders. I put the longest across my knee and tried to flex it. The branch gave a little under the pressure but it was solid enough for my purposes.

“Now lay them directly in front of the holes and cover them as best you can. I also need eleven people who won’t scare easy to volunteer. Grab the most pathetic looking tool you can find. I want them to laugh at us as they charge. The rest of you need to get back and pretend you’re terrified. Mill around, scream, whatever you need to do.” The villagers needed no urging to fulfil my request.

Six men, including Romund, and five women, including Astrid’s mother Magda, all gathered around me. They had a mix of partly rotten branches that had laid in the drainage channel for too long, and a selection of other useless paraphernalia that would do nothing in a fight.

Atop the trees, I could see birds shocked into flight, darkening the morning sky. My heart started to thunder in time with the rapid padding of paws that was fast approaching. The bend in the trail was about five hundred yards back which would give us ample warning of the attack, but also a lot of time for the enemy to see us. I prayed they were so fixated on their prey that they would ignore the shoddy efforts to conceal our pikes.

“It’s only because you know they’re there,” I whispered, trying to convince myself. At such close range it was blindingly obvious what lay in front of us.

“Look!” Romund blurted in terror, backing away involuntarily.

I had no time to study their bestiary for any clues. The wargs were wolflike in their overall appearance, only much larger than even the biggest I’d watched on TV. Their size was almost a match for our horses. Black froth slavered from cavernous maws as they yapped in excitement at the meal to come. The goblins rode bareback, using the warg's long neck fur to control their beasts. Clad only in thin leathers, they raised their nasty little swords and laughed at our defensive line.

A man to my right started to panic and made to grab the hidden pike. I grasped him by the shoulder and lifted him bodily away from our trap. “Not yet,” I hissed. “Try and look scared. I’ll give the order when it’s too late for them to stop. If they get a sniff of what’s coming we’re dead. Just hold your nerve.”

I was scared out of my wits, but I held it down to give strength to the faltering few. The wargs grew even more horrific as they charged at us. I could see the inches long claws, the fangs that would pierce armour, and hatred in the triangular yellow wolf eyes. Everyone behind was shrieking and caterwauling up a storm. The rapacious glee smeared all over the goblin’s faces was horrific to witness. Many people had fallen at the hands of these creatures and I pitied their suffering. The riders were mocking us as we readied our meagre haul of weapons, yelling vile descriptions about how we would be nothing but shit in the morning. The ground trembled under my feet and mud skittered and fell from the concealed branches. I studied the beady, malevolent eyes of the goblins and to a creature their attention was fully on us.

“Ready,” I said, loud enough to be heard over the thunder.

In my peripheral vision, I saw the courage begin to waver.

“Almost,” I growled. “A few seconds more.”

The marauding pack were nearly on us. I judged the point of no return in my mind and begged the gods that my low wisdom hadn’t screwed us.

“Now!” I yelled, tossing the soggy branch aside. We all fell to our knees, grabbed our designated spear, and jammed those bastards into the shallow divots. A wall of death rose as one, angling towards the wargs. The goblins tore out great tufts of hair as they tried to still their charge, shrieking their own fear. The pain only spurred their beasts on harder and they crashed into our pikes without slowing. I shut out the agonised yelps as sharpened stakes ran them through. Instinctively, we all ducked as the unstoppable momentum carried the dying bodies up and over us. I caught a blow to the head and several of the others were knocked flat by the sheer mass of the pack. Torrents of blood from the savagely torn flesh rained down, soaking both us and the trail. The riders screamed shrilly as they were launched from their perches. Crashing into the dirt, bones broke as they rolled over and over.

“Finish them off!” I yelled, shaking my head to clear the swirling stars.

I jumped to my feet, helping the others to rise. Those that could, grabbed their hidden axes, and I withdrew my flail, readying ourselves to finish off the enemy. There was no fight to be had. All but one of the wargs were already dead, blood trickling from their mouths and gaping wounds. The injured goblins pleaded for mercy and were rightly ignored as the villagers fell upon them. I turned my attention to the last living beast, who was panting heavily as its life fluid drained around the embedded pikes. Its paw twitched at me, causing the others to jump back. I was probably wrong, but I took it as the same gesture Honey made when she had been really ill. I would sit by her side and stroke her head while she put an arm over me for comfort. Knowing I was probably about to get clawed to death, I stepped close enough to the creature to smooth down the fur on its ugly, misshapen head. Its paw twitched again and I grimaced, waiting for the swipe. Instead, the warg rested it against my leg and lay still. Seconds passed and the breathing became shallower, finally stopping altogether. Its lupine eyes glazed over as it died.

“I can’t believe it worked,” gasped Romund, surveying the carnage. “Have you used this tactic in your wars?”

I was coming down from my surge of adrenaline and couldn’t answer. What could I say? That I’d watched it in a fantastic movie with a less than fantastic Scottish accent by the main character. We lacked the blue face paint and kilts, and for that, I was grateful. No one needed the sight of a pasty white British arse jiggling all over the place. As the rush faded, I almost kicked myself. Spinning around, I found the goblins in various states of dismemberment.

“Fuck it!” I spat, angry at myself. Information was power, and I’d thrown away a valuable opportunity to question them. There could be another pack bearing down on us, or two, or ten. While I inwardly scolded my lack of forethought, Lady tromped back from further down the trail. I’d never seen malice in a horse before, but she pushed people aside and stamped the shit out of the body parts.

“Shall we stop her?” asked Romund.

“Erm… probably best we leave her be. She looks pissed.”

“What now?” asked the village leader.

I looked around at the bodies. “I guess we should cut down a load more stakes. Just in case.”

“I’m fine with that. The smell of blood is making me ill.”

“You and me both, mate,” I sighed as Lady continued to spread the goblins out, joined gamely by her daughter. “You and me both.”