My first sight of them was a little intimidating to say the least.
There were about fifteen in total, seated atop their horses. Each one was a local man from the colouring of hair, eyes and skin and each one had a hardened look about him as if he had taken this path many times before. There was a various array of weaponry from daggers to swords, spears and mallets and no two men wore the exact same style of armour. Even the two archers wore differing outfits of toughened leather. Before them all sat her, high atop an oddly fluffy horse.
At her home she had been dressed in soft leathers and cottons, her appearance there intimidtating to me. Here, though, she was clothed in the most evil looking armour I had yet seen. It was a strange hybrid mix of scale and plate with small sharp spikes in strategic places. Long knife-like protuberances bent backwards from both her hips and calves and it was clear to see that the entirety of the plates along either thigh was sharpened along its outer edge. Along her shoulders, upper arms and forearms ran razor-like ridges. Even her huge shield was of an odd design, the strange wing-like parts coming out from either side being also sharpened along the outer edges and ending in cruel points, as if this was a weapon in its own right.
She looked down at me and smiled. Her men followed suit. Whilst hers was a more grim expression, theirs was somewhat more friendly.
She bade me saddle my horse, gather my things and be ready to leave for the light was wasting and they wished to go further before they rested for the eve. This I did in short order and, before long, I departed Trestlebridge in their company.
That night, we made camp near a place she called Minas Vrun. To my surprise, she cooked the evening meal herself, the two archers earlier having split from the main group to hunt enough meat for us all along the way. The atmosphere of the camp was jovial; the men laughing and she along with them. I felt a little like an outsider as I watched them - an intruder into a family gathering - but they made an effort to include me in their jokes.
When we bedded down, I found it a little difficult to sleep. I was nervous. I had not been around this many men since back then. Still, I did eventually drift off into a doze, not that it did me much good.
Perhaps an hour later, I was awoken by a shout. Garble, the man whom had been appointed as sentry this night, had spotted movement nearby. Sure enough, within moments our camp had been descended upon by a horde of goblins!
I did not know what to do. To my shame, as all those around me jumped from their bedrolls, retrieved their weapons and set about the defence, I could do naught but cower. I would have run but even in my panicked state I knew that doing so would be far more dangerous than staying.
It was terrible. The jeers of the goblins, the sounds of flesh being parted from bone, the cracking of bones. It was sickening. Through it all, the men and our leader fought in silence, each knowing his place and what should be done. I was utterly petrified, but no more so than when one goblin snuck through the busy defenders.
It bore down on me, its black eyes shining in the dim light of the smouldering campfire. Its thin lips stretched in a smile born of pure malice and I saw its tongue dart out in anticipation of my demise. The cruel dagger it weilded was held aloft, curved and sharp, catching the moonlight in such a way as to give me no doubt that it would hurt when it struck. I could do nothing. I was frozen by my fear and it knew. I could see it in the creatures evil gaze. It knew that I could not get away.
Suddenly it arched its back, its expression changing to one of surprise. Then it fell face down before me. I could not tear my gaze from its body, not from the huge gash across its back. Even in this light I could see that whatever had hit it had almost severed the things spine. Just as suddenly, my view of its bones was obscured by a spearshaft crunching down through its exposed neck. Finally I looked up to see a hand extended.
"Get up," she barked, reaching down to grab my collar. She picked me up with such ease, placing me firmly on my feet. "Stay behind me."
I did as I was bid for the rest of the fight, keeping myself firmly behind her broad back. It was over quickly, though, and afterwards she turned to look at me. I could not read her expression, but I had a good idea of what she was thinking. She was disgusted with my cowardice, my helplessness, as was I.
She gave an unitelligable grunt as, around us both, the men struck camp. In short order we rode away from the scene, not a one amongst them wishing to bed down amongst the corpses. As we went onwards into the wilderness, she called two of the men to her side. From my position not far behind her in the column, I could hear her orders.
Those two men, Fingers and Toodle, they are to take it in turns to train me in how best to defend myself. It is morning now and we have stopped for breakfast, so I am allowed some moments to myself. Toodle tells me that my training shall begin this afternoon when we rest for lunch and that Fingers shall take over when we stop for the evening.
