Even Gods Must Fall - Christian Warren Freed Page 0,45
corpse off into the trees. The Giant was bewildered at the amount of enemies swarming into the tiny campsite. Any hope of Boen drawing them off the night they spent in the farmer’s barn shattered. Groge guessed there must be more than a hundred enemy soldiers trying to kill his friends.
Unfelt rage suddenly welled to life. Groge grew angry, more so than he’d ever thought possible. He attacked with boot and fist. The war bar strapped to his back alongside the Blud Hamr smoothly pulled free and reaped a terrible cost among the enemy, but still they kept coming. Their tenacity was only matched by ignorance. Groge killed for the first time without compunction or hesitation.
Nothol, Dorl, and Rekka stood back to back as they desperately tried to fend off increasing, repeated assaults from the dozen attackers surrounding them. A handful of bodies, some wounded, others dead, already lay heaped around the trio. Arrows studded the trees and ground. More than one struck the packs on the ground. Cries of agony filled the night sky. Steel crashed against steel. The sickly sound of flesh being torn asunder hovered over the camp like Lord Death’s very cape.
“Get down!”
Bahr perked up, pulling his gore-stained blade free from the mercenary he’d just impaled. The voice was oddly familiar. Enough to prompt him to obey. “Everyone down!”
A fresh hail of arrows, smaller and dark, flitted through the air where he’d just been standing. A moment later and the crossbow bolts would have riddled his body. Instead they slammed into the mercenaries, puncturing armor, helms, and flesh without prejudice. The unexpected assault was enough to drive the surviving mercenaries off. Poorly armored soldiers rushed in to fill the void but less than a handful remained in the camp. The others hurried off into the night to run down the enemy.
Bahr slowly picked himself up from the blood-smeared snow and took the offered hand. Surprising strength pulled him up. His gaze swept up from his rescuer’s boots to the worn pants, dented body armor, and the haggard beard that only comes from not being able to shave for a few weeks.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, stunned.
Orlek snorted his amusement. “Nice to see you too, and don’t mention it.”
“Ah, sorry. We weren’t expecting to see you. Thanks for bailing us out,” Bahr said, suddenly embarrassed at not thanking the rugged-looking soldier. “But that wasn’t your voice I heard.”
“No, it was mine.”
Bahr smiled. “Ingrid, what are you doing here?”
“We’ve been tracking this group since you left us. It appears our enemy is falling back to the east and we are hurrying to follow,” Ingrid explained.
“We could have handled them. This wasn’t your fight,” he insisted.
Ingrid pursed her lips. “Perhaps not but there is more you need to know, Bahr. We’ve come across a massive force of Goblins driving up from the south. They are heading towards the ruins of Arlevon Gale.”
Bahr’s heart nearly burst. The great enemy Anienam had been warning them of. “How?”
“We haven’t been able to figure that out. It appears they arrived a few days ago and have been slaughtering every village they find along their path. Their numbers are almost uncountable.”
“You’ve seen them?” Bahr asked.
Ingrid fervently shook her head. “No, but based on the debris trail they’ve left we can only assume they number in the tens of thousands.”
“There is no force that large in Malweir,” Ironfoot countered. The idea of running into a massive army turned his stomach. The long-standing animosity between Dwarf and Goblin fueled his sudden hatred.
“I don’t know what more to say,” Ingrid defended. “We’re caught in an impossible situation. Harnin’s forces are in full retreat and the Goblins are moving in the same direction.”
“We figure this part of Delranan has already been destroyed. There’s not much left of our kingdom to reclaim,” Orlek added.
Bahr recoiled as if gut punched. He’d never wanted any part in ruling Delranan but to discover it was crumbling and without any hope of relief wounded him deeply. His strength of conviction suddenly renewed, Bahr knew what must be done. He had to confront his brother and end this cycle of violence before all hope was lost.
“Ingrid, we must find a way to get our people out of harm’s way if there’s to be any future for Delranan,” he said in measured tones.
Ingrid smiled genuinely for the first time in days. Hope had been rekindled.
TWELVE
Fateful Decisions
The last body was tossed unceremoniously in the makeshift pit Nothol and Dorl dug shortly before midnight. Most