Even Gods Must Fall Read Online Free PDF

True to their word, the Elves performed scouting and light raiding duties without asking for more than food and shelter. Dwarf and Elf bonded almost immediately.
    Dusk found the army breaking down into camps. The wagons were pushed into the center of four separate defensive squares. Fires were lit, for Dwarves held no fear of any living creature. They brazenly invited enemies to come closer. Guards were set. The army settled in for the night. Soon the smells of roasting meat invited grumbling stomachs and salivating mouths. Thord and his generals made their rounds among the rank and file. Nothing boosted morale for the lower ranks than seeing their leaders struggle alongside.
    Exhausted but unwilling to admit it, Thord finally trudged back to his tent and readied to collapse shortly before midnight. He’d done all he could to get a gauge on the state of the army, stopping to fill his belly along the way. He’d checked the guard lines and the strength of the defenses in what was becoming a nightly ritual. No sign of the enemy had been spotted as of yet but he knew it was only a matter of time. An army the size of the Goblins was unheard of and moved much slower than his meager one. It would take time for the two to clash.
    The Dwarf Lord tugged his boots off and leaned back on his cot. His rest was immediately interrupted by the gentle rap of knuckles on the wooden door pole. Grumbling under his breath, Thord reluctantly sat back up. “Enter.”
    He frowned upon seeing Faeldrin sidle in. “King Thord.”
    “Hmm, why am I not surprised? Don’t Elves ever sleep?” he growled.
    The Elf Lord cocked his head. “A curious notion. We are told from an early age that there will be enough time for sleep when we are finally put in the ground. Life offers so much it is a shame to miss a single moment.”
    “Would that I shared your sentiment,” Thord said.
    “We are each different.”
    Thord wasn’t sure if he appreciated the irony of the statement. “What brings you here tonight?”
    Faeldrin gestured towards the empty stool uncomfortably close to the ground. “May I?”
    Thord gestured with his head.
    “My scouts have returned with their nightly briefings. Normally I don’t bother you or the other commanders with their tales of finding nothing of consequence,” he said and paused. “Matters discovered this night have changed that. We’ve run across large tracks converging on our course. We should meet sometime around midday tomorrow.”
    “What sort of tracks?” Thord sat straighter, suddenly more interested.
    Faeldrin held up a staying hand. “Not Goblins. My apologies. It appears our Minotaur allies have finally arrived in force.”
    The Dwarf scratched his beard, running his stubby fingers through the tangled weave of thick hair. He’d heard of the giant bull warriors but, like most of the world, had never seen one. They were a race belonging to historical records and myths. When Faeldrin first brought word that the Minotaurs were willing to join the war Thord took it with a grain of disbelief.
    “I guess hooves move faster than boots,” Thord grumbled.
    “It would be unwise to taunt them so. I have worked with their king, Krek, before. He is a humorless creature. The two of you should get along nicely.”
    Thord pointed a finger. “Dwarves have plenty of humor. It’s just you surface dwellers don’t get it, is all.”
    “That may be, but Minotaurs have notoriously quick tempers,” the Elf countered. He enjoyed their mild sparring. It was a product of the campaign trail.
    “I’ll remember that when I’m staring up at them,” Thord said. “What can you tell me of this Krek?”
    “Krek was a young bull when we accompanied Dakeb the Mage on his quest in Thrae. His aid was immeasurable, though we ultimately failed in our quest. The Minotaurs have no love towards the Goblins. Even a small number is capable of removing unprecedented amounts of enemy soldiers.”
    Thord’s eyebrow peaked. “Enough to