good idea of what the plan was. Tanus, their commander, had briefed them on their role in the battle. As the enemy army approached they would use their archers and the travel catapults.
Fil had not seen the catapults used before, but after looking at the hundred or so lined up beyond the bridge he easily surmised their role. Each one had a long arm that had a large stone as a counter weight to violently swing the opposite end into the air, launching the desired missile. They were built on huge wagons pulled by oxen.
As the enemy ranks were being bombarded with arrow and stone, the infantry would slowly advance with long spears and shields. King Gavinsteal would keep a reserve line in the back while the cavalry, led by the famous Finarthian Knights, would move in and flank the enemy. That was the plan anyway and Fil hoped that it would be successful.
The sun was just rising as the advancing enemy army stopped on the rise of a gentle hill. They were still a distance away but Fil could hear the goblins as they screeched and banged their shields. They spread out across the hill like a black wave ready to swamp them all. Fil could not see beyond the hill but he knew that there was more to the army than what they were seeing.
Calden stood next to him holding his long black spear tightly. “You ready for this?” he asked nervously.
“I am,” Fil replied firmly, his desire for revenge burying any residual fear he felt as he viewed the approaching goblin horde. “Remember, they bleed, and die, like anything else.”
Calden nodded his head, looking nervously toward the army of goblins before them. Fil glanced to his left and right at the thousands of stern fighting men quietly facing the enemy. They stood firm, their jaws clamped shut with resolve, their hands gripping long spears as if their lives depended on it. Maybe they would.
Suddenly a loud deep horn bellowed across the grasslands and the screaming goblins were racing down the hill toward them. It happened so quickly that Fil’s heart seemed to leap from his chest. It was finally happening. He had trained for this, waited for this, waited for his chance to revenge his family and friends. And now it was upon him. He would not fail them.
Tanus rode his warhorse across the front of his modrig yelling for the men to hold their line. He was wearing his great helm, and the boarg horns protruding from it helped remind Fil of the revenge that was due.
Anger boiled within him and his knuckles turned white as he squeezed his spear shaft. His heavy shield was strapped tightly to his right arm but he barely felt the weight of it as he vividly recalled the death and destruction of his town.
The Finarthian army answered the goblin’s charge with their own horns, signaling thousands of archers to let their deadly shafts fly. The arrows were so thick in the air that they momentarily blocked the sun’s light. Fil then heard the sound of the catapults behind him as they unleashed their lethal barrage of stone.
He looked up into the sky, seeing huge flaming spheres fly over them and explode in flame as they landed in the goblin ranks. Hundreds of goblins fell victim to the flames and arrows in several seconds.
“What are those?” asked Fil, for it was obvious that the catapults had not launched stones.
Gandis, a veteran warrior to his left, answered him. “Flaming jugs of oil. When they hit, fiery oil engulfs whoever is unfortunate to be near.”
Despite their losses, the goblins kept coming like a swarm of locusts. They were getting closer now and Fil could make out their distorted faces, fanged teeth, and yellow beady eyes. They were a mass of spindly bodies screaming wildly as they ran toward them with no discipline. Fil gripped his spear tightly, waiting for the order to advance.
He momentarily glanced up to the top of the hill to see another large group of hulking demi-humans emerge. They were much bigger than the goblins and thicker of limb. They must be orcs, thought Fil. He also spotted a handful of even larger foes, enemies that Fil recognized, for they were ogres.
Fil’s attention went back to the advancing goblins as a high pitched horn blew; it was the signal for their advance. Fil angled his spear forward and started moving toward the enemy with determination. The entire infantry began to