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beat fifty thousand?”
    Faeldrin paused before answering. “Perhaps not that many but their numbers will be sorely diminished once the battle ends.”
    “As pleasant as that sounds I don’t relish the idea of being killed for no reason.”
    “We all must die, Thord.”
    He closed his eyes. “In due time. I’d like to see this war through first. That cold throne needs my ass on it for a few more decades.”
    Life or death were both real possibilities for the meager army. Faeldrin had lived for centuries, narrowly avoiding Lord Death a hundred times. He’d never bothered concerning himself with such thoughts, until now. The war for the soul of Malweir. Long prophesied and now it finally approaches. If Thord knew a fraction of what I’ve been shown would he still march glibly towards the inevitable conclusion? What fool would? Were I a lesser Elf I’d have fled back to Elvenara to await the end .
    Thord noticed the Elf’s consternation. “You’re troubled.”
    “We all should be. This is no easy task we have set ourselves to. I fear many a friend will not be among us when the last sword falls. Perhaps we should have all remained neutral.”
    “What talk is this? I’ve never heard an Elf sound so depressed in all my days,” Thord chastised. “Go and hide in your trees or me in my caverns? I don’t think the gods, dark or light, care for what we wish. If what you believe is true, this is the hour in which our combined might will either win the day or see us all enslaved for eternity. Running from the problem won’t help a damned thing, Faeldrin. No. We march to war even if it means none of us return.”
    Rebuked, the Elf Lord could do no more than smile. “You’ve had me fooled for a long while, Dwarf. I didn’t think your taciturn nature had such an expansive vocabulary. Very well. We shall continue on. I can only hope the kingdoms of Men in our path are just as willing to accept what’s to come. This will be a war unlike any ever fought.”
    Thord leaned closer. Bits of chewed meat were visible between his teeth when he grinned. “What better place for a Dwarf to be?”
     
     
     
    “They are moving faster than yesterday,” Faeldrin remarked.
    Euorn folded his hands over the saddle horn and continued to watch the approaching army go from a dark stain on the distant snow to distinguishable figures. “Big beasts. Bigger than I recalled.”
    “They are formidable to say the least. Dakeb spoke of Krek’s involvement in that business with the dragon. They are most welcome to this fight,” Faeldrin added.
    “I wasn’t suggesting otherwise, Faeldrin.”
    The Elf Lord sighed. “Don’t worry about it. Perhaps the Dwarf was right. A little rest might do us all good.”
    “Ha! I’ve been with you for more than two hundred years. I don’t seem to recall you ever slowing down. Should I go out and meet them?”
    Faeldrin stared for a moment longer. “No. There’s little point in moving in the wrong direction. Krek and his legion will be along shortly. Head back to the main body and alert them of our impending arrivals.”
    “I only hope the Minotaurs have brought their own supplies. There’s no way we can feed that many extra mouths,” Euorn said and rode off.
    Faeldrin’s wait proved far shorter than anticipated. The Minotaur army moved fast, as if they were in a rush to reach the final battle. The Elf closed his eyes and recalled the last time one of their armies took to the field. Outside the gates of the Mage citadel of Ipn Shal, the Minotaur army was charged with defending the gates. Goblins and wicked men made charge after charge only to die by the hundreds on Minotaur tulwars and stone axes. The great bulls reaped terrible vengeance upon their foes while losing great numbers of their own. Ipn Shal held, if barely, and what remained of the Mages honored the bulls in Paedwyn. That honor echoed down through the years, transposing onto the current generation of warriors.
    Fond memories often