Not by magic, not by overwhelming numbers or ambush! General Zel Shivertail remained on the battlefield despite Az’kerash’s repeated assaults on him day after day. The famed [General of the Line] refused to retreat, and it was his rallying presence and Skills that kept the Drake armies and the valiant defenders of Liscor from folding under the Necromancer’s devastating attacks.
They all knew him. Foolishly, the Goblin Lord had studied Zel Shivertail, had read his stories. Tidebreaker, [General of the Line], hero of two Antinium Wars. The greatest [General] of the Drakes. And so rumors had spread. Zel Shivertail had trickled into the Goblin consciousness like poison. And now he was here, and that knowledge was magnified by his presence.
The Goblins shuddered. He was coming. The hero of the Antinium Wars, the famous [General of the Line], the Tidebreaker. Those titles had been just words before. Now they were all too real. The Goblin Lord’s army was superior to the Human one, but the Goblin Lord had yet to meet Zel Shivertail on the field of battle. Now that was going to change.
Why indeed? Then he felt something on his face. The [General] turned back. He was a [General of the Line], not a particularly powerful one to work with the Order of the Hydra, but good enough to serve in this specialized kind of engagement and bully Pheislant’s army.
The [General of the Line] felt calm in saying that. He lifted his sword; his bodyguard was in shambles, fighting for their lives. And this [Knight] had no sword.
The advancing warriors of Ailendamus saw the Goblin [Knight] standing in the open gates. The [General of the Line] calmly spotted the officer-killer and identified the threat. He halted the advance of Ailendamus forces’ a second and raised a hand.
The [General of the Line] might have been as surprised as anyone by the [Knight] surviving, but if you couldn’t kill him with one, try again. Everyone knew that.
The enchanted edge of the gold-jade axe whirled through the air, a scything blade so huge it cut through space. It killed the poor warhorse. One of the [Strategists]. The [General of the Line] lowered his hand and the axe lodged itself in his chest. He was a valorous leader, a good warrior. But all it took was a moment.
Xil had thrown it from over three hundred feet away. Orjin saw the [General of the Line] go down—and the entire wing of Stitch-folk faltered—then began to flee. The [Great General] sounded a full retreat ten minutes later.
