"The Company´s Last Charge" by Mike (KaT Adams) McCann

"You've got to be insane. No one could survive that!"
Landred, captain of the head guard, nodded. "I know, but we can't take the goblin army on head to head-there are too many of them. For every one of them we killed in the last fight, we lost two of ours. Frankly we can't do that again. We have to change how we fight. War is too costly."
"But, to send that unit is murder! They've just been re-manned. The company has, maybe, two experienced officers. If you're lenient with the definition of "Experienced." Landred, is there any other way you can think of?"
The old, greying captain shook his head. "Can you think of anything else? I can't afford to send a more experienced company, we'll need them to take the goblins with the main force. If we loose Note (1), then the whole of our eastern lands will fall." Landred sank into his folding chair, his head bowed over by the weight of war. "We've already lost so much."
Porin sighed. Landred was set in this decision, and Porin knew he was right. The goblin army had proved more powerful than anyone had imagined. They'd previously been seen as weak and incapable, but before the war, mostly only stray goblins, starving and insane, had managed to wander into the mountainous lands of mankind. "I will go inform Jiorth's unit. It's just... It's sad that they are all so young. And the one girl, just in. Kylin, I heard Jiorth call her. The daughter of a woman I served with at Ten Guards. She can't have been here but a week, if that. And by the looks of her, I'd say she's just of age. An age too young to die."
"In war, they are all too young."
Porin bowed to his commander. "Sir."

"Kylin! Come back here! Stop! That's an order, Shardit!"
Kylin stopped and stood at attention, letting the tears roll down her cheeks.
"What the hell are you doing? For the love of the crown, at least wait till night if you're going to desert."
The young soldier wheeled on her heel and glared at Jiorth. "I would /never/ desert!"
Jiorth stopped and looked at her glistening, reddened face. "Then just what /are/ you doing?"
"What is wrong with you? Didn't you hear that cursed Porin? We're going to DIE! There's zero chance of us living through the fort, and I-- I just..." She collapsed to the ground, tears wetting her face. "I told father I could do this, and I joined to follow my brother. My mother had joined years ago, and my father never wanted to lose us to this, but I was /sure/ we'd survive this. My brother is serving under Andioth at Fall's Pass. Or, he was. I spent three month's for a year and a half of training. One week after getting put out here, and now I die? It's, it's not right!" Kylin pounded her pale fists against the ruddy earth.
"Kylin," Jiorth dropped to one knee and took Kylin's face in his hands. "I've defied the odds before--I've served under the Captain for the whole of the campaign and two years before that. This is not the first suicide mission I've faced down in my times. If any company could make it through, it's ours. Landred knows this. Trust me."
"One week, then? I could die that soon."
Jiorth nodded. He wouldn't--couldn't--lie to Kylin. "It's... a good chance."
Kylin stood up and brushed the mud from the crest on her chest. "Fine."
Porin sat admiring his blade, given him by the King's son, for his persistence in the battle of Ten Guards. It was a strong blade, forged by the dwarves of Wenten. The inscription on the handle was placed by the King himself: "May this blade always be true to that who carries it." The tent's flap opened and Porin looked up. "Ah, Kylin."
Kylin stared at Porin, sitting on one of the bunks. "M'lord?" The glint of metal caught her eye and she tensed.
"I'm sure you know of the only honorable way to avoid a hopeless battle."
Kylin nodded, suddenly more terrified of the snake-like man than ever before. "Death at the hands of oneself or a companion."
"Jiorth would hear nothing of it, you know why?"
Kylin looked at him, unable to answer.
"Ah, I should have guessed not. You have not seen enough eyes to know. But I've come to give you this chance. You are too young for this, I know, but the orders still stand. I watched you sharpening your blade today. If you go to this fight, you will die. I cannot hide this from you. So here are your choices." Like a viper striking, Porin shot up and placed the edge of the blade against Kylin's trembling neck. "You may die here, quickly, or on the field, I can say not how. Just be glad goblin's take no prisoners. What do you say?"
No longer frightened, Kylin's body went stiff and her hair seemed to rise in anger as her face and eyes went red. "Get that off my skin, cursed."
Rather than the anger she expected from her insult, Porin smiled, but sadly. "I would have expected no different from a Shardit. I knew your mother at the Ten Guard. She fought more powerfully than I've ever seen before." Kylin's eyes darted to the blade in sudden recognition. "Yes, I'm sure your father has her blade, posthumously given, mounted in some place of honor. But since you cannot have that one by your side, please take this one."
Kylin cautiously accepted the blade. In fact, her father had hidden the blade away, in the cellar, and would not allow her or her brother to take it with them to battle, believing it was stained by her mother's dark fate.
"It's made of the purest dwarven metals, and I think it shall serve you well." Porin smiled at the young girl. "You are much like your mother. In more ways than you know."

The flame of a poorly made candle spat and snapped, hopelessly fighting the cold of the night. The smell of burning fat (2) filled the emptiness of a dark red tent. "You gave your blade to the Shardit girl..."
"Yes, Captain."
"Does she remind you so much of Savara?"
"M'lord?"
Landred chuckled. "The women of that breed seem especially capable of ensnaring men's hearts. First, my lieutenant comes to me, heart broken, and now I loose a First Guard to that blood. And not just you two in this camp look to that child, and she has been here but a week. Very impressive women to do so."
"Sir."
"Oh, Porin. You know as well as I that there is no other choice, that girl goes to her unchangeable fate, just as I shall on that same day."
Porin backstepped, shocked. "Sir? What do you mean?"
Another chortle from the dark bed. "Dear, loyal Porin. You've seen it, every day this war tears at me, I am old at but forty-six years. And my family is known to live long lives. I will only lead one more charge, I haven't another war in my bones (3). You know enough, now, that I can die in conscience. And, by a miracle--which seems to be humankind's life bread--those two will survive. Jiorth will guard her with his life, and he's a survivor. I do not expect to have them greet me at the door of the warrior's hall."
"Sir--"
"Oh, shut up, Porin. Save your strength."

Kylin admired the blade. The bluish tint, she knew, had often been a dark greenish black--goblin blood. But now it was something beautiful. When the tap at her door came, she started and hide the blade beneath the bed cover.
"Kylin? May I come in?"
Kylin stood at attention. "Of course, sir."
Jiorth pushed the flap open and entered. "Shardit, no, this is off duty. It has to be," he muttered under his breath. Kylin relaxed. "I'll get straight to the point. Leave. I'm ordering you to go home. You're discharged from service, Kylin. Pack your things and be gone before daylight."
Kylin was floored. Jiorth was ordering her to desert. "What? During the night? Then I take it you don't have the Captain's signature on this dismissal. Besides, you said it yourself--you're off duty. Off duty can't give orders." Kylin raised her chin in defiance. Her mother was the last one to die at Ten Guards before help arrived. She did not flee, and neither would Kylin.
Jiorth grabbed the smaller girl by the shoulders and swore in the northern tongue. "Kylin, you'll die in three days if you don't leave! Get out of here! You should never have joined the war. It isn't right for you to die, not here, not now."
She pulled free and glared. "What does it matter to you? I'm not leaving my friends to die!"
"For Timoe's sake (4), Kylin. I love you! I won't see you die!" Jiorth balled his fists and turned, dropping onto a bunk.
"Jiorth..."
"Just leave, Kylin. Leave and don't come back."

"So, yas been discharged, eh? Naw cut fer da fight?" The line driver (5) looked at Kylin. "Alrigh' then, most don' li' talkin' when they leave da field, even if by dere own choice."
"Do a lot of soldiers leave with you?"
"Oh yeas, da wounded, da weak, dose who just can't do it, and da worst, da cowards. I can't stand them. Make 'em ride in the last car."
"I wish..."
"Yeas? Whatta ya wish?"
"I wish I weren't leaving."
"I ca' understan' tha'. I'd hate if I e'er had ta leave m'liners."
Kylin looked at the grizzled man in surprise. Liners was a term not used in her lifetime, though her father had said it a few times. "Just, how long have you been running lines?"
"Forty ... eight yars, next month, it'll be."
"What keeps you doing it?"
"Simple, fren's. I cou' retire, I ha' da money, but linin's a tough life. Ah'd feel like I was abandoning everyone I knew out here if I wen' home to stay. Suppose i's much da same fer you soldiers, the lifer's, that is. Staying to fight, more fer fren'ship thun anythin' else. Aw, now wuz the matta dearie?"
Kylin grabbed hold of the driver's arm. "Stop--please. I have to go back. I can't leave them."
The man smiled. "Well, ah know how tha' is." He pulled the reins and the line came to a stop, the other drivers following bringing their wagons to a hold. "Yer hahse is just tied up in back. G'luck to ya', little mistress."

"Sir! Kylin's here!"
"What?!" Jiorth stood and rushed out to meet her. His heart nearly leap from his chest when he saw her, sitting calmly astride her mount with a half dozen Guards waiting to impale her on spears.
"First Guard Jiorth Enrangel, please correct this, /now/."
Somehow, Jiorth was glad she'd come back, and even more than satisfied that her spirit was obviously unhurt, for the worse of the wear. "You men, there. Let her be. She was doing an errand I sent her on. Now put those spears away before I have you all busted to Fifth Guards!" The men lowered their spears, unsure, but willing to obey a superior officer. "Fourth Guard Shardit, I'll expect you immediately after stabling your horse."

Kylin let the flap of Jiorth's tent fall behind her and found herself crushed into Jiorth's chest. She violently pushed him off and glared at him. "Next time you give an order like that to me, I'll beat your face in."
"I wish you'd gone, but I'm glad you came back to me."
Kylin cast Jiorth an ice cold stare. "Let me be clear, I'm not here for you. I'm here for my friends. For the other soldiers here. Understood?" Jiorth nodded, dejected. "The fact that you're here is just a benefit." Jiorth picked her up in his arms, laughing. She smacked him. "Put me down, for the love of the crown. I said I was glad to see you, not that I'd marry you." She gave him a quick, indecipherable smile. "And your horse needs new shoes."

"Here's the plan, and our orders." Jiorth unrolled a map of the mountain pass the goblins would have to take. "We shall come from the north side, loose vanguard formation, six layers. That means eight men per layer. Our orders are to distract the Goblin forces just long enough and loudly enough to turn the whole of their attention to our direction. That'll, hopefully, give the rest of our forces enough of an advantage to be victorious. Then the fourth army should arrive and the eastern lands are safe for a while. In theory."
"But it is a suicide mission?"
Jiorth nodded, not bothering to look and see who had spoken. "Yes, and not just because of our experience. Even the most experienced fighter would likely die after rushing in with less than fifty to distract over a thousand mindless goblin. There will be eight flag bearers, meaning four flags, and the formation will be very loose. You'll basically be fighting alone, but we need to spread out to give the impression that all of our force is attacking from the north. And we stay to fight. There will be no sign given to let us know we may retreat. The only sign will be from us, just before we attack."
"Then they'll know we're coming."
"And hopefully believe our ruse."
"Jiorth..."
He turned to look at Kylin. "Yes?"
"Nothing."

The sound of a grind stone spinning and sparks being cast woke Jiorth and he pulled his clothes on before stepping out into the night. Kylin sat by the fire, sharpening her stock blade. A blue-tinted blade sat next to her, already sharp and in no need of care, but it sat ready to be cleaned. Kylin's spears were stacked beside her and her armor waited for its care. The others' equipment was also scattered about the site, but most had given up hope and care of their weapons. Jiorth shook his head and smiled. Incredible.
"You should be asleep. We die tomorrow."
Jiorth looked at her and realized she was crying. He sat behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. The grindstone rolled to a stop. "You should sleep, as well. We return victorious, tomorrow."
Kylin took the stock blade and stood, walking over to the fire. Jiorth watched her, outlined by red flame. It was a nightmarish image that frightened him. He turned to face towards her completely as she turned to face him. She walked slowly back towards Jiorth, the blade hanging like dead weight from her arm. As she stood over him, she let the blade clatter to the ground and fell into his arms. They remained like that for several minutes, Kylin's occasional sobs shaking her body.
She stood and smiled at Jiorth. "We'll live through this." She picked up the blade given her by Porin. "Undoubtedly."
"Spears!" Jiorth's unit pulled out their first spears. "On my signal!" The forty-seven soldiers raised the shafts and waited. Jiorth Blew on the horn and the spears rained down on the goblin ranks. In all, before they got to the goblins, each had thrown six shafts. When the last spear had been thrown, Jiorth shouted above the rising roar of goblins: "Swords! Charge!" The forty-eight men and women charged down the slope towards the goblin army, four banners clearly visible against the dark gray hillside. Arrows flew up at them and of the forty-eight, only thirty-nine made it to fight hand to hand. Kylin's blade was clearly visible as it slashed into the flesh of goblin men left and right, she and Jiorth were near each other, and they were getting pushed closer together by the goblins. The others had tried to come together, but it was looking as if most of the company had fallen.
"Where are they?!"
"They'll come! There's no other choice!"
The battle continued to wear on for interminable eternities.
"Where are they?!"
"There! There!"
Shardit looked to where Jiorth had pointed with his sword for a moment. The banners of the Third Army could be seen flying down between burned trees and over the ashen ground. "They'll never make it in time!"
Jiorth brought his blade down as he blocked a blow with his shield. "Then we'll have to hold out longer!"
Kylin looked around. Their banners had already fallen, and it looked as if one of the true attack force had fallen as well. There couldn't be more than five or six of their unit left, including herself and Jiorth. Kylin grunted as she felt fire engulf her thigh. She swung the dwarven blade and it broke the spear off inches out of her leg.
"Are you alright?"
Kylin brought the blade down at full force on the shoulder of a goblin. "Yes."
The goblins stopped.
The army of man stopped.
The only sound was a dull rumble and the sound of horns from the north.
"What in the name of Timoe is that? Not more goblins?"
Jiorth laughed aloud and resumed the fight, dropping several goblins before they could react. "No! Those are the horns of Etora!"
Kylin laughed herself. Etora was the captain of First Guard's fourth army. They'd come after all. She laughed again, mostly from exertion, but partly due to the expressions on the goblin faces. Etora's army must have come over the ridge.
Deciding to abandon the battle with the few humans in their midst and the ragged army to the south, the goblin force spread towards Etora's force. Kylin and Jiorth gratefully collapsed against each other as the surreal dream of goblins flying past them continued on.