Even Gods Must Fall - Christian Warren Freed Page 0,127
would I be to let them die without me by their side?”
He had a valid point. Faeldrin conceded he would be a poor king at best. Knowing the stubbornness of Dwarves, the Elf decided to change his method of approach. “They are strongest in the center. Whoever commands either has no concept of tactics or it overconfident. Use that to their weakness. Break the enemy in the center and the wings will collapse. I will take my Aeldruin and the rebels of Delranan to secure the western flank in the event our foe has hidden forces ready to strike.”
Thord nodded his appreciation at the advice and marched on. Whether the flank was secure or not, this battle would be won in the center. His ranks swelled in passing. Wounded Dwarves filed out of the makeshift hospital and collected new weapons. Administrative and supply Dwarves followed suit. Those few cannon crewmembers still alive were the only ones who didn’t. They desperately attempted to get the two remaining cannons back into firing configuration to add their thunder to the fight. Thord let them be. Enough had already died.
The march through the camp was mercifully brief. He could only take so much slaughter before growing restless. Now the time had come to produce his own. Brandishing his axe high above his helmeted head, the Dwarf Lord of Drimmen Delf marched his Dwarves into battle formation to the right of Krek’s Minotaurs. The two kings passed knowing looks, each silently approving of the other’s valor and readied to meet the heavy press of Goblins bearing down on them. The wait wasn’t long.
Tides of Goblins crushed against the lines. Minotaur and Dwarf bowed back under the intense pressure but managed to hold. The musketeers fired off a volley that dropped scores of enemy soldiers. Having believed the Gnaals destroyed all of the new weapons, the Goblins were taken off guard for a moment only. It was a moment enough for the allies to strike. Axe and sword fell and so too did hundreds of Goblins. Commanders barked orders and the line took a step forward before striking again. Hundred more died. The muskets fired again and the Goblins began to panic.
They’d come expecting an easier fight, not the hardened resolve of two races with a lot of fight left in them. Those in the back continued to press forward, unaware of what was about to happen in the front. Those closest to the enemy readied to throw down their weapons and turn to flee. Sheer weight of numbers prevented them from getting far. Dwarves and Minotaurs killed with glee. Their hated enemies of old continued to die in appalling numbers as they were gradually beaten back into the trenches.
Thord leapt over the outer trench, stepping on the fresh mound of bodies now filling it. He didn’t pause to look down for there was no point. The vultures would pick the field clean regardless of friend or foe. Thord’s focus was on doing as Faeldrin suggested. Break the center and their army will run.
Goblins were in wholesale retreat now, widening the gap between armies. Their confidence upon seeing the Gnaals unleashed had all but faded, leaving them with the harsh reality of their situation. Most were going to die. Neither particularly brave nor of strong will, the Goblin foot soldiers fled for their lives. Thord and Krek simultaneously charged.
They recaptured the second trench and held, for here the enemy defenses remained largely untouched. Thord spied a great beast of a Goblin whipping and hacking at his own ranks and immediately recognized their leader. He only hoped Krek hadn’t spotted him as well. The Dwarf Lord cautiously stepped ahead of his army and slammed his axe against his leather-covered shield three times. Heads turned, pausing in what they had been doing to see what new spectacle had arrived, just as he hoped they would.
He could feel the gawking stares of his own soldiers behind him. Who in their right mind would expose themselves to enemy fire, especially given how lethal and accurate Goblin crossbows were, just to garner attention? The king of Drimmen Delf, for one. Unafraid, Thord waited until it was quiet enough to be heard. When he spoke, his voice was like waves crashing on the rocks. The raw intensity in his words made more than one set of knees quake.
“Goblin scum! Who dares claim authority to treat with me? I am Thord, son of Thorgrim, lord of Drimmen Delf, and cleaver of Goblins! Come