My planet is infested with Goblins

Chapter 60: The Fall of Alaric Veyne

The first Viridian soldiers entered the reach of the Caldris spears without breaking formation.

The surviving humans had compressed themselves around the center of the wooded depression until barely enough space remained between them to swing a weapon.

Joren stood near the front with his sword raised while the remaining spearmen braced their weapons against the slope.

Behind them stood men with cracked shields, exhausted cavalrymen fighting on foot, and crossbowmen who had already spent nearly all their ammunition. Alaric remained near the center with the healer supporting him beneath one arm.

Blood had begun soaking through the bandage around his side again, and standing required almost as much concentration as commanding once had, but he refused to lie down while the remnants of his force prepared for their final fight.

The goblins came closer, and the first spear thrust struck before their shields reached the human line.

A Viridian soldier stumbled backward with a spearhead buried beneath his collarbone, while another fell when a second thrust caught him above the shield.

The Caldris soldiers immediately pulled their weapons back and stabbed again. Their longer reach still a signif advantage, even now.

For several moments, the front of the Caldris formation looked almost like the line that had resisted Viridian during the daylight battle.

The difference was that there were no reserves behind it, no cavalry waiting on a flank, and no crossbow companies ready to loose volleys over their shoulders. Every man currently standing in the circle was already part of the last available line.

Joren moved along the formation and shouted instructions whenever the goblins shifted pressure.

"Do not follow them uphill. Hold your place and make them come into the spears."

His warning came at the right moment. After losing several soldiers against the longest weapons, the Viridian infantry pulled back rather than continuing the attack.

Another group immediately approached from the opposite side of the depression.

The remaining humans turned their formation as much as possible without creating an opening. Alaric watched the movement and understood what the goblins were doing.

They had no need to overwhelm one side immediately. They could test every part of the circle until exhaustion created the gap for them.

The next attack struck near the southern side. A Caldris spearman drove his weapon through a goblin shield opening, but his arms were too tired to recover it quickly.

A Viridian soldier caught the shaft and dragged it sideways. Another goblin stepped into the opening before the human could release the weapon.

A short blade slipped beneath his ribs, and the spearman folded over it. The sword-bearing soldier behind him immediately moved forward and filled the space before the Viridian troops could exploit it.

The dead man was pulled into the center by one of the wounded, and the circle contracted by another half step.

That became the rhythm of the battle. Viridian soldiers approached one section, forced the humans to fight, then withdrew before becoming trapped in a costly struggle.

Ranged troops remained higher on the slopes and fired whenever a Caldris soldier exposed himself beyond the shields. The humans could not pursue them because leaving the formation meant opening the circle.

They could only wait, block, stab, and endure until the next attack came.

The remaining crossbowmen used their ammunition carefully. One fired at a goblin officer directing a group along the ridge and struck him through the upper arm.

Another waited until a Viridian soldier came within a few paces before firing directly into his chest. Each bolt mattered because there would be no replacements.

Soon the first crossbowman reached into his case and found nothing. He dropped the weapon, drew a sword, and stepped into the circle beside the infantry. Two others followed within minutes.

The last crossbowman kept a single bolt in reserve until a goblin forced his way through a gap, then fired at such close range that the projectile passed through the soldier and struck the shield behind him.

Afterward, he threw the empty crossbow aside and joined the melee.

Joren seemed to appear wherever the formation threatened to fail. When a shieldman fell on the eastern side, Joren filled the gap long enough for another soldier to step forward.

When two goblins tried to drag a spearman out of formation, Joren cut one across the face and forced the other backward.

His earlier wounds had reopened, and blood ran down one leg from a fresh cut across his thigh, but he continued moving.

Alaric could see the captain slowing despite his efforts to hide it. Each movement required more strength than the last, and every time Joren returned to the center for a breath, he remained there a little longer.

Alaric hated being unable to help. He had commanded these men east expecting a difficult campaign, but nothing in his planning had imagined this ending.

Eight hundred soldiers had marched under Caldris banners with cavalry, crossbows, engineers, wagons, and enough supplies for extended operations.

They had expected to hunt raiders and force scattered invaders from the province. Now the surviving force could fit beneath a handful of trees. Men whose names Alaric had never known were dying within arm’s reach because they had stayed with the group when others scattered during the rout.

The goblins attacked again, this time from two directions almost simultaneously. The human formation turned too slowly.

Viridian infantry struck the northern side while another group threatened the east, forcing Joren to divide the few men still capable of moving between positions.

A shield split under repeated blows. Its owner discarded it and continued fighting with his sword until a projectile from the ridge struck the side of his neck. Two soldiers dragged him backward, but he was dead before they lowered him to the ground.

The circle shrank again.

The healer beside Alaric looked around and seemed to realize there was no longer anyone available to protect the wounded.

He lowered Alaric against the trunk of a tree, picked up the sword of a dead infantryman, and moved toward a gap opening on the southern side. He held the weapon awkwardly but remained in position beside two exhausted soldiers.

Alaric reached for him. "You are a healer."

"Not enough patients left to heal."

The next Viridian push reached them before Alaric could answer. The healer blocked the first strike clumsily and managed to drive the goblin backward. A second soldier came around the side, and the healer turned too slowly.

The blade entered beneath his arm. He fell close enough that Alaric could hear the air leave his lungs.

Alaric reached for the sword that had dropped beside him.

His fingers closed around the hilt, but when he tried to lift it, the wound beneath his ribs burned and his arm trembled uncontrollably. The weapon rose only a few inches before falling back against the ground.

Joren appeared and drove the nearest goblin away before pulling another soldier into the opening.

"Stay down," he told Alaric.

"I am tired of being told that."

"Then stop getting wounded."

Joren returned to the fighting before Alaric could reply.

There were fewer than fifteen humans standing now.

Viridian soldiers recognized it too. Their attacks became more aggressive as the remaining Caldris formation lost the ability to reinforce weakened sections.

Broken spears were abandoned for swords. Men fought with damaged shields until straps tore or wood split completely.

One soldier continued swinging an axe after taking a wound to his stomach, remaining upright long enough to strike another goblin before collapsing beside him. Another fought on one knee because his injured leg no longer supported his weight.

Eventually Joren pulled the surviving soldiers into an even tighter circle around Alaric. He was breathing heavily now, his sword covered in blood and his left shoulder hanging lower than the right. Around him remained only seven men capable of standing without assistance.

Joren looked back at Alaric and managed a tired smile. "I think we finally reached the end of the road."

"You complained about the march often enough. I thought you would be pleased."

"I would have preferred complaining all the way to Eastwatch."

Alaric nodded faintly. "So would I."

The Viridian soldiers regrouped outside the shrinking circle. They did not shout or celebrate. Fresh troops replaced those who had been wounded, and shields moved forward once again.

Joren turned toward the remaining soldiers. "Nobody goes alone. If you fall, fall where the man beside you can use the space."

No one answered with a cheer. They simply tightened their grips.

The next attack broke what remained.

Viridian infantry struck from three directions. One surviving spearman killed the first goblin reaching him, then disappeared beneath two others.

A cavalryman fighting beside him drove his sword through one attacker before a blade opened his side. Another Caldris soldier fell backward into the center with a spear buried in his chest. The line became six men, then five, then three.

Joren continued fighting.

A goblin struck his injured thigh, and his leg finally gave way. He dropped to one knee but caught the next attack on his sword. He slashed upward and forced the soldier back, then tried to stand. Another Viridian blade struck across his side.

Joren staggered.

Alaric pushed himself away from the tree.

"Joren."

The captain turned slightly at the sound of his name.

A final blow struck him before he could answer.

Joren fell onto the grass a few paces from Alaric, his sword slipping from his hand.

The last ordinary Caldris soldier died moments later.

Silence did not come immediately. Alaric could still hear Viridian soldiers breathing, weapons shifting, and boots moving across the disturbed earth. Yet there were no human voices left around him.

He looked across the depression.

Bodies covered the ground where the final circle had stood.

Joren lay among them.

Alaric reached again for the sword beside him. This time he managed to close both hands around the hilt and use the weapon to push himself upward. His legs shook violently, but he forced himself to stand against the tree.

Viridian soldiers surrounded him from several paces away.

Nobody rushed.

Perhaps they were surprised he could still stand.

Alaric looked down at the blood covering his armor and then toward the bodies of the men who had followed him east. There was nothing left to command. No formation remained to save. No road remained to retreat along.

He lifted the sword as far as his failing arms allowed.

The nearest Viridian soldier stepped forward.

Alaric tried to strike.

His movement was too slow.

A spear entered beneath his damaged armor and drove deep into his chest.

The sword slipped from his hands.

Alaric collapsed beside Joren without another word.

For several moments, the Viridian soldiers remained alert, checking the bodies and searching for anyone still capable of resistance.

Their healers moved forward to recover wounded goblins while others began gathering weapons from the fallen humans.

No Caldris soldier stood again.

Eight hundred men had marched east to destroy the invaders threatening the province. Their camp had fallen, their retreat had become a rout, and the last gathered remnants had now been eliminated in a nameless wooded depression far from Eastwatch.

Colonel Alaric Veyne lay dead among his soldiers, and with his fall, the first Caldris counteroffensive ceased to exist.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!