Threads of the Soul

Light.

That single word burned itself into the sky, quite literally, as giant luminescent letters hung in the air and produced the very thing that those letters spelled out. Light. No longer was the battlefield obscured by an oppressive darkness, only being held at bay by a few dimly flickering torches. Now the world was completely bathed in light, so that even the furthest reaches of the hordes back line was completely visible from the defensive line of the library.

There was also the benefit that this luminescent word, which projected itself like a divine decree from an all powerful god, had blinded anyone unlucky enough to be looking in its general direction upon its appearance. Not permanently blind, only for a few seconds at the most. Like a flashbang without the bang, so just a flash really.

Enemies and friendlies were effected alike, both having to take a few seconds to recover from being flashed, and not in the trench coat way. However that few seconds was to great advantage to certain groups, specifically those like the reinforcements. They had looked away at the very last second, just enough to shield their eyes, meaning they could now leap into action and attack vulnerable opponents without having to search through the dark.

It would all be considered incredibly and terribly convenient, if it weren't for the fact that they had been looking at the source of the word before its very appearance.

"Everyone, get ready. It's going to get bright, attack when they are blinded."

Those were the words that had acted as their warning just a few seconds before the divine decree of light descended. Curiously enough, these words were not spoken. In fact the owner of these words could not speak at all.

Instead, these words appeared in the air, like subtitles in a movie, to coincide with the hand signs and gestures that their owner was performing.

However, before they could go charging out onto the lines and defend the wall from the tsunami of bodies battering against it, they had to take care of those who had slipped over it. Which was not an easy task.

With Corvus' disappearance, a crack had formed in the defence that the Hemogoblins and their beasts quickly took advantage of, pushing through with as many of their forces as they could. At the behest of their commander, they increased the pressure on the living statues, to make sure that they couldn't move to plug the gap. Even if the Hemogoblins were blinded themselves, many of their eyes still burning and dancing with flashing lights as they tried to recover, it didn't stop the wretched creatures.

Without a care for their pitiful mortality, they threw themselves at their opponents, whether they could see them or not, and blindly charged towards the wall. It was only thanks to this that they didn't completely overwhelm the compound. But many of them found the wall or their opponents, and began to scale or attack depending on which one they thought it was. Some of which were wrong.

The strange thing was not the Hemogoblins attacking the wall or trying to climb the opponent they should be fighting, it was that the efficiency of these titanic opponents had dropped considerably. Before, they fought as if they had eyes on the back of their heads, yet now they seemed to be blinded. Not just from the light that had seared plenty of eyeballs, but as if one of the idiots clambering over their backs had managed to claw out those eyes on the back of their head. Now, they seemed like they were only able to keep track of those in front of them, leading to even more of the statues prey slipping past and scaling the wall, or simply becoming stuck clambering all over the statues back without it noticing. Clinging to its stone hide like an even more ugly flea.

Even the flying knife, which had seemed like a force of unstoppable nature, was nowhere to be seen, while the Wyvern content on dive bombing from the skies was having trouble dealing with the overwhelming force. Many times, when it tried to snatch some prey, it was met with resistance from those around its prey. Constantly clawing, biting or slashing at the feathered beast when it tried to carry one of their numbers away.

***

When his vision finally returned, and he was able to observe the blood festival once again, the crimson Hobgoblin grinned in sadistic delight. Once the feathered menace had been taken away, their defence fell quicker than a brick off a bridge. It was just a shame that none of these front line defenders had any of the delicious life-wine for them to spill. He would have to do with supplementing his army with the spill of the fallen Hemogoblins, reforging what they had lost, as well as bolstering with the blood of the beasts they had brought with them.

The only thing stopping them from overwhelming with sheer numbers was the rate at which the mages could carve the fresh summoning stones, that is why they brought the beasts. Not only to bolster, but to act as cannon fodder that would help them spawn more of their number. That isn't to say they didn't have their utility as well, there were certain things these useless wretches couldn't do after all. Such as taking that irritating feathered one out of the battle.

His pointed ears twitched as delightful sounds tickled them, filling his mind with the most joyous goblin music. The sounds of horrified screams of agony and death. Just hearing those once again put a smile across the Hobgoblins face. He drew a long, deep breath in through his nose, inhaling the cold night air and the pungent scent that clung to it. The scent of fresh crimson being spilled.

Finally, they had made it to the juicy blood bags. He had no idea what that glowing symbol in the sky was, it's language utterly foreign to him, but with its appearance after he removed their main defender, he could only assume it was something created out of panic and fear. Desperation causing them to call for help from others of their kind, it wouldn't be the first time he had seen it from worthless blood bags, nor would it be the last.

Suppressing the urge to lick his salivating lips, the Hobgoblin made a grasping gesture in the air as the symbols on a crudely forged metal bracelet on his wrist began to glow, a bracelet that looked eerily similar to the collars the beasts wore.

In response to his gesture the runic symbols on the humongous rhino's collar, which had a horn at tall as the Hobgoblin himself and was simply minding its own business amongst the chaos, began to glow.

The rhino let out a warbling cry of pain, smoke curling off of the collar as it audibly sizzled and hissed, only relenting when the rhino finally began to move. With footsteps that were deceptively light and gentle for its colossal size, it slowly plodded over to the Hobgoblin before laying down on the ground before him.

A cruel smile still plastered across his face, the crimson Hobgoblin climbed aboard his illustrious new mount, a perfect expression of his magnanimous power if he did say so himself, and turned back towards the conflict.

However, before he could burn his will into the rhino's flesh and mind, another flash of light occurred. Unlike the last, which was a bright flash followed by a sustained light, this was proceeding by a deafening crack of thunder.

Another flash quickly followed, the light streaking through the charging army and carving its own path quicker than one could blink. By the time the thunder roared to announce its presence, the bolt had dispersed and left nothing but blackened, smouldering corpses in its wake.

As if to taunt him, after each bolt of lightning that decimated portions of his army and practically exploded anything that was climbing over the wall into charcoaled meat chunks, a small ball of sparking lightning was darting throughout the rest of the army. He only managed to catch a glimpse of it when it stopped for a brief moment, but he wished he hadn't. It was nothing more than a wolf whelp.

A child was destroying his army!

The deaths were acceptable, to die for their superiors is what these wretches were spawned for, but the fact that the lightning burnt the flesh completely ruined their chances of being spawned again. Actually reducing the size of his army instead of rolling over and dying like a good dog, now that was an offence of the highest order and he would not accept it from some worthless, miserable blood bags!

Letting out a guttural, throat tearing war cry, as if he was trying to challenge the roar of the thunder, the Hobgoblin made another gesture and forced his mana into the metal bracelet on his wrist.

The rhino's flesh sizzled once more, even after it followed its master's orders and began to charge, as he forced it to bear the brunt of his righteous fury.

Gentle, timid steps quickly increased in pace as the rhino picked up speed, their almost silent nature receding as it finally showed the weight of its colossal body. The faster it moved, the heavier its lumbering footsteps became until they were cracking the road beneath it and leaving deep indentations in the once perfect road.

Half way through its charge, as it was barreling through the horde without a care what it tossed aside or stepped on, the rhino reached the fastest speeds its tree trunk legs could carry it. So it simply stopped relying on its legs.

Behind where the Hobgoblin was perched, one of the armoured plates on the rhinos body raised up before a gout of ivory flames burst forth, lifting the beast from the ground and rocketing it forward at untold speeds. It lowered its head, preparing its human sized horn to smash straight through the wall and skewer anything cowering behind it. As it's master commanded.