Assault

Group C crept towards the darkness of the town wall beneath an umbra of light. None of them carried spears, axes and bronze swords. To these warriors, the magical field was like a rainbow floating above their heads. But to the men on the walls, and the birds in the sky, the attackers looked like just another patch of shadow. Estrild’s cloak of magic bent light itself, and filled in the obscured area with the light around it, replicating even the sky-flashes.

They were silent as they came close to the wall, stopping just short of the torchlight. Here they saw the stream’s outlet, which ran under the wall where the stream had cut deep into the slate. A sturdy grate, covered in slime and scum, was fastened to the outside, though that could be removed to let one crawl under the wall. It was impossible, however, to get inside only through the stream: granite blocks had been laid over it within the walls, leaving no space for anyone to climb through.

The outlet smelled awful. This was as much of a sewage drain as it was a stream, and a disgusting sludge covered the place. The inspections done here would always be less thorough than elsewhere in the settlement.

Guards could be heard joking to each other on the crooked battlements above. They were oblivious to the attackers crouching only metres away. Estrild nodded to Gruffudd, and the first half of the group moved out into the light. If one of the guards were to look straight down at them now, he wouldn’t have been able to see the stream at all, but instead only its reflected banks.

The smell of sewage was unbearable at the outlet, and Gruffudd had to cover his nose as the goblins worked to quietly remove the rusted grate. A little magic stifled the sounds of heavy metal scraping against granite and slate. Once it was put to the side, a goblin ducked in. He gave a signal to continue.

Estrild went next. She crawled through the sewage without reservation, for she used magic to forbid waste from touching herself. She conjured a small light, and quickly found the hole to the tunnel: a jagged crack in the side where the slate had crumbled due to erosion. The tunnel floor had collapsed with it. She stood up, squeezing her head and shoulders through the whole and then pulling herself up to the tunnel, where the goblin waited..

Soon Gruffudd had come through as well. Both of them put on vests of mail once they were standing. An issue arose with some of the Cerneish warriors, who’s shoulders could barely fit the meagre break, but with a good pull from those inside, and a push from those behind, they got in.

The tunnel was cramped and probably bad to breathe in, but they wouldn’t be waiting there for long. Leaving the other half of their group outside was a worry, since they were so exposed. Under the blue light cast by the magical orb, the fear was visible upon the faces of almost all gathered, even Gruffudd.

Estrild touched his shoulder, nodding to the patch of loosened bricks. He had asked to be the one to knock it down to show the power of the magic he was learning. The Prince nodded, and positioned himself to strike it. Those packed into the tunnel made as much space as they could. After a few deep breaths, he stepped forward and struck the wall with his fist. A magical light shone, and the stones collapsed outward. Thanks to more magic, it was completely silent.

“Signal the second team. Now go!”, Estrild hissed.

She stepped out into a pig-pen behind a decently sized building. The swine were still asleep, but were awoken once everyone had exited the tunnel. Some of the goblins tried to calm them down, but the pigs were already sniffing and honking rather loudly. The infiltrator’s sweat went cold as they stood in someone's backyard like this. It would take only a glance from the guards on the wall behind them towards the pigs to expose all of them. But they couldn’t move before the other half of their group was with them.

Estrild kept them in place with a hard stare. Waiting to be discovered in this pig-pen would be too much for even the hardest nerves, but they couldn’t let their group be split. She then forced herself to look up at Heaven, and let its grandness wash away mortal anxieties. But it couldn’t remove the very real fact that they were sitting ducks down here, and the truth that everyone but her was shitting themselves in fear (and she was as well, really).

The witch crept around the building, kneeling behind a shed to take a peek at the street. Though Regina could not be in the air (the enemies had many birds of prey who would rip her apart), Estrild had the town plan memorised. The slave camp and market stood just around the corner at the bottom of the muddy street. It was near the South Gate, but the camp itself was surrounded by a wooden rampart connecting to the stone outer walls.

The place was well-illuminated with torches, since shadow was an enemy to the defenders. There were plenty of Adventurers in the street despite the hour, and they were all armed. Group C would have to go through the row of backwards they were in until they got a little closer to the camp, when they’d attack its gate by surprise. She returned to the group to find the last of the men stepping out from the wall.

The scream of a woman annihilated the hushed anticipation. Estrild whipped her head around to see an adventurer standing by the sewage outlet only metres away. She had probably come to go to the loo. She was young, with tied-back hair and an axe at her waist. For a split-second, Estrild empathised with her. The adventurer had likely come here, to the fringes of society, to escape the horribly patriarchal society that she’d been born into.

An arrow whistled by her head. One of the Cerneish men had shot at her with his longbow, but nerves had sent his arrow astray.

“ALARM!”, the adventurer screamed, scrambling away.

Another arrow found her back, and she fell dead into the stream. Gruffudd swore. The guards on the wall rushed over, and now saw the infiltrators grouped up below.

“Out onto the street! Follow me!”, Estrild shouted, running out with sword drawn.

Her army followed, screaming war-cries and charging down the muddy street. It quickly became chaos. The adventurers that had been standing around were confused and without direction. Many ran, some stood around dumbly, and a one had his heart filled with stupid courage. He ran out with sword drawn, and was quickly cut down in vain, his arms and legs beating the mud as his soul left his mouth.

People ran out from the tall timber and daub townhouses, and the street descended into chaos. The attackers grabbed torches from their plinths as they ran and chucked them through the houses open doors, or onto the thatched roofs of single-story buildings. Fire spread quickly through the settlement, and many of the would-be defenders ran to extinguish it.

They were soon at the wall of the slave camp, and would reach its entrance if they followed the road around it to the market. After a minute more, they were in this wretched place were people were sold for silver. However, a sergeant was already in position at the camp, with a detachment to block them from entering. Above, archers drew their bows back on the palisade.

Arrows rained down, and some found their mark in goblins or men. More than one goblin fell dead, and several of the group were wounded. The rest ran to stick close to the wall, where they couldn’t be hit. The town’s sergeant barked orders, and his twelve men advanced on the infiltrators. Arrows clattered from the soldier’s breastplates and helmets.

Gruffudd let loose an arrow which hit the neck of one soldier, piercing his mail mantle and dropping him. At the same time, Estrild fired booming lightning at the sargeant, intent on killing him immediately. To her surprise, the sergeant shielded it with magic, and the bolt was deflected into a nearby building, which caught ablaze.

Everyone was screaming now, and it was difficult for commands to be heard. Both groups ran at one another and it became a wild melee. The attackers had no spears, so they charged in with their goblin-made bronze swords, hacking at their armoured enemies. A spear ran through a Cerneish warrior, while a goblin stabbed one of the soldiers up in the inner thigh.

The lines became mixed, and the goblins started to stab the Guild soldiers in the back. Gruffudd took to duelling one man, but one of the soldier’s friends came to back him up, forcing the Prince into an unwinnable two-versus-one. Luckily, one of them was hit in the head by a Cerneish axe, distracting the living one long enough for Gruffudd to strike him in the neck.

While this was taking place, Estrild fought the sergeant. He was a good fencer, and any mistakes he made could be compensated by his armour. His steel blade was lighter and longer than Estrild’s, and with a quick strike he nicked her arm, drawing blood.

Crying out, she channelled her pain into a strike infused with electric magic, which shocked him a little despite his supernatural defences. As he was stepping back to reset the engagement, she chucked an orb of twisted space from her left hand. 

He managed to raise a shield only in the last moment, and the orb was deflected down into his leg. The armour and flesh touched by the orb was erased, and the sergeant fell down screaming in agony. She took his weapon, and moved on.

The last of the guards were routing, and some of the Cerneish were chasing them despite Gruffudd’s loud orders. Other goblins had ran away during the fight. At least they would help spread confusion in the town. Along with those who lay dead or wounded, Group C had been reduced to Seven Cerneish and Fifteen goblins.

“Stay together! To the freedom our comrades!”, Estrild declared, raising the sergeant’s bloodied sword into the air.

They entered the camp to find Group A had already freed itself. Iron cages, many reinforced by magic, lay shattered in the muddy pit that the slaves were kept in. The faun women, standing over two metres tall, were finishing trampling the remaining slavers. A lot of the captives lay dead, executed by heartless slavers or shot by arrows from the walls, and most of the survivors were huddled in what little cover there was. 

The captives were of all kinds, goblin, bran, kobold, and even some slimes (who were impervious to anything but fire, which would kill them instantly). It was clear that the conditions here had been appalling, with people treated like the pigs Estrild had seen earlier. The fauns were riddled with arrows themselves, but they had thick skin and muscle to block the worst.

Group C found good positions to shoot up at the palisade, which did not have proper battlements, and felled a good number of the archers. The remainder hid or retreated to the stone wall, allowing the attackers to move in and relieve Group A and the escapees. The remaining captives were unshackled, and Estrild quickly got them out of the enclosed camp where they could be surrounded easily.

“Don’t leave anyone behind!”, she barked. “The gate isn’t far away, all we have to do is take it!”

She shot magic arrows at the stone wall, keeping the archers atop it down as the most feeble monsters stumbled out from the wicked camp. Once they were out, she ran back to lead them to the gate, pushing through the mass of terrified escapees.

She arrived at the front to find Gruffudd dead, with an arrow sticking from his eye. Two of the warriors knelt by him, trying to revive the Prince, but the wound would have killed him instantly. There was no time to mourn; they had to take the gate now. Estrild left his body behind in the mud as she continued her attack. The town behind her burned.