Even Gods Must Fall - Christian Warren Freed Page 0,121

to fight at Bode Hill. The cannons were impressive and world changing. She tried to calculate the implications of these new weapons and failed. Hundreds of Goblins were murdered in those first few moments. Close to a thousand by the time the Minotaur army attacked.

She watched her new army as it threatened to break under the onslaught of so many different foes. Her gaze reluctantly tore from the horrifying Dwarven weapons and centered on the Wolfsreik to her east. Aurec was there, standing in resplendent battle armor under a sea of waving banners. He’d grown to become a true king, despite her earlier protestations. She bore no doubts that he would soon take up the sword and join his army in the attack. Aurec often suffered from an excess of honor. Maleela didn’t particularly want him dead, but she wouldn’t hesitate to cut him down if he stood in her way. Badron was out there and she wanted him dead.

Her defense against the Wolfsreik was much stronger than against the Dwarves. Without those infernal weapons the Wolfsreik was forced to execute their attack the way it had always been done. She was prepared for that, or so Thrask assured her. The Goblin war machine had fought their way across the northern kingdoms for months, slaughtering and killing along the way. Maleela had no stomach for it. There was no glory to be had in killing. Her alliance with the Goblins was one of convenience. Amar Kit’han promised her the blood of her father before the end, leading her to the inevitable conclusion that Badron was on the field. Most likely skulking in a soldier’s uniform no doubt. Her hand idly tapped the blade strapped to her right hip.

Too many thoughts swirled in conflict. Goblins. Aurec. Badron. She slowly felt her sanity being dragged away. Feelings of vengeance dominated her waking moments. Dreams had become nightmares threatening to consume what remained of her soul. She wondered how she had become evil. Had it always been there? Lurking in the hollow corners of mind and spirit? She only felt marginally different, as if these feelings were natural.

Far too late for her to care, Maleela watched the Wolfsreik smash into the Goblins. The press of bodies was massive. Despite the gnawing displeasure in her stomach, she couldn’t take her gaze away. Bodies fell. Weapons rose and dropped, their crisp silver catching sunlight in menacing angles. Slowly, almost casually, the ground turned a dark shade of red. Blood. She shuddered. What made her cringe was seemingly commonplace amongst the combatants.

Frantic movement from the Wolfsreik lines drew her attention. Fresh units were being hurried towards the attack where those poor initial units were being torn asunder. If…if the Goblins could hold, there was the very real chance to win this battle. Surely the Dwarves would run out of whatever they used for ammunition soon. Once they did, she had numbers on her side. No amount of natural savagery could beat back the vast amount of Goblins waiting to get into the battle.

The east secured for the moment, Maleela turned back to the Dwarf front. Aurec would live or die without her interference. She noticed with dismay how much destruction had been wrought to her lines. Thousands of Goblins lay dead, twice that were wounded and trying to drag themselves away from the fighting. Plenty of Minotaurs were down as well, their near gigantic forms almost an aberration of nature. She marveled at the bull warriors. Until now she’d thought them to be myth, an extinct race having long since exited the world.

No matter how many enemy casualties littered the trenches it was paltry compared to the losses she was suffering. The battle had gotten close enough to render the Dwarf cannons obsolete but the constant report of smaller, centralized explosions continued to bother her. Puffs of grey-black smoke drifted away from ranks of Dwarves at measured intervals. Whatever fell sorcery the mountain dwellers employed went well beyond the cannons. She reluctantly deduced they had found a way to make smaller, handheld versions of the weapons. If Thord’s army had enough of them….

Heavy boots thumped up the stairs of her observation tower. She didn’t bother turning, knowing who it was. Maleela’s only curiosity came from how long it had taken him to approach her.

“General Thrask, what is your report?” she asked, her voice smooth, polished.

Ignoring her, the Goblin Lord went to the edge of the tower and stared hard at the Dwarf line. He’d seen what