The War of the Dwarves Read Online Free PDF Page A

Mallen, sitting upright in the saddle. His mount snorted gratefully, glad
     of the shift in weight. After a long ride without any rest to speak of, the horses were wearier than the men.
    Until that moment, the wind had been blowing toward them, but now it buffeted them from behind. The air was mild and smelled
     of the coming spring.
    “The ground was muddy, remember,” said the scout. “The soil is soggy with melting snow; you sink deeper than usual. Besides,
     the green-hided beasts are bigger than us and their armor is heavy.” His eyes swept the rows of horsemen. “Two thousand of
     them, Prince Mallen—no more than two thousand and no fewer.”
    The Ido flag, carried proudly by one of Mallen’s riders, was fluttering in the wind, betraying the southerly change. Mallen
     cursed. Orcs had an excellent sense of smell and could sniff out their victims from a distance; they were bound to detect
     the waiting men.
    Mallen’s finely crafted armor, engraved with the insignia of the Ido, gleamed in the light of the setting sun. He unbuckled
     his old-fashioned helmet from his belt, set it on his head and fastened the chinstrap. His careful handling of the headpiece
     showed his respect for the royal crest, which had been in his family for generations, surviving the centuries unchanged.
    His riders, seeing the prince’s blond hair disappear beneath his helmet, prepared themselves for battle. Mallen heard the
     clunking of weaponry and jangling of armor behind him and gave the order to attack.
    “Archers to the front,” he said resolutely. “Advance to the hilltop, but stay out of sight. Foot soldiers go with them.” He
     turned to the right. “First unit ride in and attack. Slash, jab, and do whatever you can to bait them—but turn and flee as
     soon as they fight back. The dolts will follow, and we’ll be waiting for them. Don’t let any escape.”
    He nodded briskly, and the first 150 riders charged up the hill, exploding over the crest and careering down the other side
     to blast through the enemy camp like a hoofed gust of death.
    Eyes closed, Mallen listened to their progress. He heard pounding hooves, cries of terror from the orcs and high-pitched screams
     from the cowardly bögnilim. A moment later, swords met with armor and shields.
    The clamor intensified. One hundred voices became a thousand as the excited beasts threw themselves wildly on the small band
     of riders who had ventured foolishly into their camp.
    The thundering horseshoes grew louder, accompanied by shouts and jeers from the pursuing beasts.
    Mallen raised his arm, lifting his sword high in the air. He heard the archers nock their arrows and level their bows.
    The first beasts had yet to crest the hill when Mallen brought his sword down sharply and three hundred arrows soared through
     the air, falling steeply over the hilltop and raining vertically on the startled wave of orcs and bögnilim.
    The first flurry was followed by a second and a third. Mallen listened in satisfaction to the beasts’ dying screams. Meanwhile,
     the riders galloped back and took their place among the ranks.
    “Ride!” he shouted. “Death to the beasts of Tion! Ride!” Opening his eyes, he took a deep breath. “For Ido and for Girdlegard!”
     He reached back to tap his horse with the flat of his sword, and they galloped away.
    The whinnying steed was joined by five hundred others. The prince’s cavalry poured over the hill in a stream of glittering
     silver. The drumming of two thousand hooves shook the earth, striking fear into the hearts of the approaching beasts.
    The orcs and bögnilim turned tail and fled, but there was no escape from the onslaught of spears, armored horses, and steel.
     The stragglers were the first to die; the rest were trampled a few paces later. The air was wet with green blood, but neither
     the screams of the dying nor the sight of the wounded could slow the riders’ advance.
    H e could have waited for us,” grumbled Boïndil