My planet is infested with Goblins

Chapter 58: No Road Left

Alaric woke to pain before he understood anything else. It spread from beneath his ribs through the entire side of his body, growing sharper whenever his armor scraped over the uneven ground.

For several confused moments, he could not understand why the earth seemed to be moving beneath him.

Damp grass brushed against the back of his head, stones struck his armor, and someone had both hands hooked beneath his arms, dragging him backward through the darkness.

His hearing returned more slowly than his sight.

First came heavy breathing somewhere above him, followed by the soft movement of boots through wet grass and the whispered voices of men trying desperately not to attract attention. Farther away, almost faint enough to be mistaken for memory, someone shouted before the sound disappeared into the night.

Alaric forced his eyes open and saw branches passing above him. The person dragging him stumbled over a root, cursed quietly, then continued pulling him forward.

"Joren?" Alaric managed.

Captain Joren Bale looked down without stopping. Dirt and dried blood covered his face, and the bandage around his forearm had nearly turned black.

"You picked a terrible time to wake up. Stay still unless you want that wound opened again."

Alaric instinctively tried to lift himself. Pain tore through his side so violently that his vision immediately darkened, forcing him back against the ground. Joren tightened his grip beneath his arms and continued dragging him.

"Put me down. I can walk."

"You were unconscious a moment ago, and you nearly fainted from trying to sit up. You can prove how well you walk after we are farther away from the road."

Alaric wanted to argue, but another jolt sent pain through his ribs and stole the breath needed to do it. Instead, he concentrated on his surroundings.

Figures moved through the fields around them, some alone and others supporting injured companions between them.

They were Caldris soldiers, but there was no formation left among them. Infantry walked beside dismounted cavalrymen, crossbowmen carried swords after abandoning their empty weapons, and men from different companies followed whoever happened to be moving in the same direction.

No banners were visible. Some soldiers still carried shields, but many had discarded anything that slowed them.

They had left the western road entirely and were crossing rough farmland divided by thick hedges and scattered trees.

Alaric reached toward the wound beneath his ribs. The arrow was gone, and someone had bound thick cloth tightly around his torso, but the bandage was already wet beneath his hand.

"Who removed it?"

"The healer."

"How long was I unconscious?"

Joren did not answer immediately. He dragged Alaric beneath a cluster of trees before finally lowering him carefully against the trunk of an old oak.

"I do not know exactly. Long enough for everything behind us to get worse."

Alaric looked around at the survivors gathering in the darkness before asking the question he had been avoiding.

"What happened to the army?"

Joren crouched in front of him. His expression told Alaric the answer before he spoke.

"There is no army anymore. After you went down, the convoy completely collapsed. Men kept running. Some followed the wagons for a while, others left the road, and every time the goblins appeared behind another group, that group scattered again. We stopped being a retreating force and became whatever could still move west."

"How many are with us?"

"Twenty-seven when I counted. It could be fewer now if someone failed to keep up."

Alaric studied them more carefully. Twenty-seven looked close. They were a miserable collection of exhausted survivors. One infantryman had lost his helmet. Another carried half a spear after the shaft had broken.

A crossbowman had wrapped his cloak around a hand missing two fingers. Several soldiers wore blood-soaked bandages over wounds that should have removed them from combat completely. The healer knelt beside one man whose breathing was shallow and irregular.

"Where are the others?"

"Everywhere. Some stayed on the road. Some ran through the fields. I saw men disappear north toward the woods. One group still had wounded wagons when I last saw them, but we lost sight of them after arrows started falling again."

Alaric closed his eyes briefly. He remembered the retreat, the road crowded with wounded soldiers, the arrows descending from behind, and the sudden impact beneath his ribs. After that there had been nothing.

"What happened after I fell?"

"Two men caught you before you hit the ground. One of them died while we were getting you off the road. The other helped me carry you until we reached the fields. The healer removed the arrow when we had enough cover to stop."

"You should have left me."

Joren stared at him for several seconds before answering.

"I made the decision not to."

"You risked everyone here for one wounded officer."

"I brought everyone I could. You were simply the heaviest problem."

Despite himself, Alaric almost laughed, but the attempt sent pain through his side and immediately ended any amusement. The healer noticed he was conscious and approached, kneeling beside him.

"Do not try standing yet. The wound has opened slightly during the movement."

"How serious?"

"The arrow entered beneath the ribs. I do not think it reached the lung, or you probably would not be speaking to me. You have still lost too much blood."

"Can I walk?"

"With help and very slowly."

"Can I fight?"

The healer looked at him as though the question itself were absurd.

"If you try, you will probably collapse before the man trying to kill you reaches you."

Joren nodded approvingly. "For once, listen to someone who understands what your body is doing."

Alaric ignored him and looked westward through the trees. Remaining in one place was impossible. Twenty-seven soldiers might seem insignificant compared with the army that had marched east, but they were still a concentration large enough to be noticed.

"We need to move."

"We are moving," Joren replied.

"We are resting."

"For a few minutes, unless you would prefer dying from blood loss before the goblins find us."

Before Alaric could respond, a faint horn sounded somewhere behind them. Every soldier in the grove immediately stopped what he was doing. The sound came from far to the east, but another horn answered farther south several moments later.

Alaric looked at Joren.

"Those are not the soldiers from the night attack."

"No. We saw these before leaving the road."

"What did you see?"

"Fresh equipment. Full packs. No wounded among them. Scouts spreading ahead while the rest moved quickly behind."

Alaric understood immediately.

"Fresh troops."

Joren nodded. "Someone sent them after us."

The implication was worse than simple pursuit. Viridian had not merely allowed enthusiastic soldiers to chase defeated enemies. Someone had deliberately dispatched a rested force westward after the rout.

"They are hunting whatever remains of the counteroffensive," Alaric said.

"That is what it looks like. They do not seem interested in every man running alone. The larger groups are the ones they keep following."

That meant the road could no longer be used. The most direct route west would also be the easiest route for the goblins to follow.

Alaric pushed one hand against the ground. "Help me stand."

Joren frowned but eventually took one arm while another infantryman took the other. The moment they lifted him, the landscape seemed to tilt sideways. Alaric’s knees nearly failed beneath him, but the two men kept him upright.

"You still believe walking is an excellent idea?" Joren asked.

"No, but remaining here is worse."

The survivors moved northwest through farmland rather than directly west. Two soldiers supported Alaric between them as they crossed fields, climbed low stone walls, and pushed through hedges. When his strength weakened further, Joren took more of his weight. They avoided every road and visible farm track, moving instead through terrain that slowed them but offered concealment.

They found the first dead Caldris soldier beside a stone wall. His shield was gone, and an arrow protruded from his back. Several hundred paces farther north, they discovered three more bodies near a hedgerow. A dead goblin lay nearby, showing that the humans had at least tried to defend themselves.

Joren examined the position briefly.

"They stopped here and tried to fight back."

Alaric looked at the scattered weapons and disturbed earth.

"It did not last long."

The pursuit was clearly moving faster than the survivors.

They continued until one of their scouts raised his hand near an abandoned farmstead.

Everyone immediately stopped. Human voices were coming quietly from a damaged barn. Joren approached cautiously with his sword drawn, but fifteen Caldris soldiers emerged before he reached the entrance.

Several recognized Alaric.

"Colonel Veyne. We thought you were dead."

"So did I for a while."

The newcomers had fled the road earlier and hidden after seeing organized goblin scouts moving west. Several were wounded, but only one required help walking. Alaric looked over the group and ordered them to join.

Their numbers climbed above forty.

That immediately created another problem.

Forty men could defend themselves better than twenty-seven, but they were also easier to track.

Alaric exchanged a look with Joren. Neither needed to explain it.

They moved again as the first gray light of dawn began appearing beyond the horizon. Alaric drifted between sharp awareness and periods when the surrounding world seemed distant.

His side throbbed with every step, and cold sweat covered his face despite the chill of morning. He lost track of how far they had traveled.

Eventually they reached a wooded depression surrounded by several low ridges. Thick vegetation covered the slopes, and from the bottom it was difficult to see beyond the trees.

Joren studied the terrain before making the decision.

"We stop here long enough for everyone to breathe. Sentries on every ridge. Nobody lights anything."

Alaric wanted to object, but his legs failed the moment the soldiers lowered him against a tree. The healer immediately checked the bandage and found fresh blood soaking through.

"You have opened it again. If you keep moving like this, eventually I will have nothing left to close."

"If I stop long enough, the goblins will solve that problem for you."

The healer shook his head and moved on to another wounded soldier.

For the first time since Alaric woke, there were no horns, no distant shouts, and no arrows falling from the darkness. Exhausted men collapsed against trees while others drank the last of their water. The silence lasted long enough for Alaric to believe they might finally have slipped between the searching goblin units.

"When we move again, we split into smaller groups," Alaric told Joren. "Five or six men each. Different routes west. Forty soldiers together are too easy to follow."

Joren nodded. "Where do we regroup?"

"Anywhere west that still has Caldris soldiers."

Before Joren could answer, one of the eastern sentries returned quickly through the trees.

"Movement on the ridge. I saw at least three goblins, possibly more behind them."

Joren immediately stood and ordered the men awake.

A second sentry arrived from the north before the first had finished explaining. He had also seen movement among the trees. Moments later, another soldier came from the southern slope with the same warning.

Alaric felt the shape of the situation forming around them.

"They found us."

Joren drew his sword. "Then we move west now."

The survivors abandoned anything unnecessary and started climbing the western slope. Two soldiers supported Alaric while the others moved ahead with weapons ready. They had nearly reached the ridge when the men at the front abruptly stopped.

Shapes stood among the trees ahead.

Not merely scouts.

Goblins carrying shields and ranged weapons had already taken position along the western approach.

Joren ordered everyone back into the depression.

As the humans withdrew, more Viridian soldiers appeared along the northern ridge. Others emerged through the eastern trees, followed by movement to the south. They did not charge.

Instead, the goblins spread into deliberate positions around the depression, closing each route while maintaining enough distance to prevent the humans from breaking through before the encirclement was complete.

The surviving Caldris soldiers gathered around Alaric and Joren. Spears were lowered, swords drawn, and the few crossbowmen who still possessed bolts prepared their weapons. Alaric could barely remain standing even with one soldier supporting him, but he forced himself to study every ridge.

There was no open side.

The goblins had not accidentally discovered them and attacked.

They had tracked the group, moved around it, and closed the exits before allowing themselves to be seen.

Joren stood beside Alaric with his sword raised while additional Viridian soldiers appeared along the western ridge they had attempted to climb moments earlier. The survivors tightened their formation in the center of the depression, surrounded on every side by fresh goblin troops.

They had escaped the battlefield, survived the rout, abandoned the road, crossed the countryside, and hidden from the pursuit, but none of it had taken them beyond Viridian’s reach.

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