Grar’s red armor blazed in the light of the dimroad’s torches. Gund was grateful to see his king and friend clad in mannarim. He reminded himself that he’d fought beside Grar in more battles than he could count. Many a time they faced impossible odds, and every time his king emerged triumphant. Still the unease in his gut would not abate. He admired the sight of king’s maille nonetheless.

Ror looked resplendent as well. Urum’s craftsmen had truly outdone themselves. Their love for their young prince shone in their work. Gund had never seen a better fit, thicker plates, or grander finery. The ram’s horn helm was a nice touch as well. It fit the young man’s temperament. They should have made Halfur a wolf’s head helm. I hope his pack is safe in High Alden. The whole business smelt foul to Gund. Valung’s treachery, the arrival of the goblin invaders, and the poisoning of the veterans all during Salimod’s stay. A dark figure moved into view and disrupted his foreboding thoughts. It was Buri.

“You’ve taken a post,” Gund said. He instantly lamented the words. Obviously he’s taken a post, and clearly I would know.

“As clearly you would know,” Buri said.

Gund sighed. “I know not what to say to you, nephew, other than I’m glad for your return, and I hope you survive the goblins.”

His nephew nodded. Gund wondered at his helm. He wore the issued armor of the Gatebreakers, but his helm was far simpler in design, and bore a tall, bladed crest that reminded Gund of Buri’s hair.

“We have our work ahead of us,” Buri said.

Gund nodded. “Plenty of foes to send through the hidden door. What do you think of Ror’s plan?”

Buri looked to Ror. The Gatebreakers were poised just behind the vanguard. Once the initial charge was engaged, they would flank their own front line and close in on the goblins from the sides. Buri nodded. “The goblin van will be caught in a vice, leaving their pikemen exposed.”

Gund nodded. “Beyond the first two ranks, the goblins won’t likely have much in the way of strategy. I deem we’ll route them early in the fight, then face them in earnest later in the night.”

“And Valung?”

Gund felt his heart sink into his bowels. “If we can press them to withdraw for a time, then we can support the troops in Ormazum, then return in time to protect the gate from their blasting rams.”

“Pity Narvi didn’t make both gates from everglass.”

“Or at least leave the knowledge of how to create it behind.”

A horn rang through the cave. Buri nodded again and left to join his unit. Gund felt a slight improvement to his mood. He’d not spoken a single word to his nephew till now, and Buri approached him.

Gund scanned the field to make sure the legions were all in formation, then lowered his visor and readied his halberd. A hot orange glow appeared at the far end of the dimroad, growing in size and brightness with each second. Soon the air was filled with shrill and manic cries, and the orange glow became a ball of fire. Gund raised his hand and his three heralds put their ringing horns to their lips. The din of battle made commands difficult to issue vocally. The ringing horns were felt in one’s whole body, but the sheer amount of combatants fielded in this battle called for a strong voice, and so Gund selected the three best horn winders he knew. He held his hand still, and the heralds waited.

Grar clanged his spear and shield together behind him. A dozen Stone Guard flanked the king on either side, and his own legion, the Diamond Born, stood five thousand strong behind him. Gund was glad for the veteran units that survived the plague, but there were so few. Before him was an ocean of youth and inexperience. Gund’s greatest hope was that these young men were hungry to prove themselves. Most had shone themselves violent and aggressive during their drills, but there were those who had deserted. Ror had their names and descriptions written down, then tasked them with aiding in the defense of the city. If they fought well they would be pardoned. If not…

The goblins were close now, close enough for Gund to see the source of the orange glow. He’d taken it for torchlight, but he saw they had wagons full of bruning timbers coated in pitch, and teams of ten or more goblins were driving them towards their line. Gund made a signal with his fist, the heralds winded their horns, and the first twenty rows of soldiers made a roof of shields.

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The wagons had levers attached to their sides, and when the goblins pulled them the wagons flipped forward and the burning timbers were launched into the air, flinging balls of burning pitch and wood over the army. Few fell that Gund could see, but many of the green young boys were hurriedly trying to stamp the flames out instead of keeping focused on the enemy. Gund signaled again, and the heralds blew the call to form up, then the call to charge.

The goblin line was vast. They dove madly into the air, many ending up skewered by dwarven spears, and many more clamoring atop the dwarves to overwhelm them. The tactic was working. The fire attack had broken their vanguard's concentration, and now the boys were falling under the weight of the goblins mounding on top of them. Gund called for a crossbow volley to thin the ranks of the goblin van. A thousand went down at least, but more came swarming past them, piling on top of their front line and pulling the young soldiers to the ground. Another volley, then another. Where’s Ror? Gund looked around for the Gatebreakers. He saw them. They’d cut into the goblin lines behind their van and were slaying their way to the dwarven front. Titan’s kiss you Ror! Gund signaled again and the front line did their best to split down the middle, withdrawing to either side to let the goblins into the center so they could be flanked and cut down. The young soldiers tried, but their efforts were sloppy, and instead of a proper pincer move, the goblins were allowed to press the center of their line backward towards the gate.

Gund looked over his shoulder at Grar. The king met his eyes and nodded. He made another signal to his heralds and their army pressed inward to the middle of the dimroad, then rushed forward, driving a wedge into the goblin line. Most of the soldiers ended up engaging the goblins instead of completing the maneuver, and many fell to the goblins spears and knives. Gund heard one young dwarf shriek as three goblins dug their daggers into the cracks between his joints. A fourth goblin drove a sword through his visor and he was silent. Those holding formation were too few for the wedge to do any good, and their lack of skill was showing. The goblins drew them out of the wedge here and there, luring small groups of men away and overwhelming them. He shouted a command and Ganly dispatched a company of Sunderers to bolster the wedge. The Sunderers wrapped around the conscripts and formed a sturdy line on either side of the wedge, joyfully butchering goblins as they charged. The wedge was now strong enough to do its job, and they met Ror and his Gatebreakers, then both formations spread outward and cleared a wide space in the enemy’s line. He signaled his heralds and they sounded a retreat to the charging forces, then a tempest of boulders were flung into the air by dwarven catapults.

The artillery attack gave them the break they were needing. Hundreds of goblins were crushed, and those that weren’t scattered and fled. The rear ranks of their vanguard pressed against them unwary of the catapult strike, throwing the entire line into disarray. Ror brought his Gatebreakers back around and the Sunderers followed. They struck deep into the goblin van and gutted them of almost half their remaining forces, then retreated back behind the dwarven line.

The goblins fled back down the dimroad out of catapult range and there was a brief respite. Gund looked back to Grar. “Do we charge?”, he asked. Any other battle and Grar would leave the field to Gund, but their home was threatened, and Grar’s wife and daughter were behind him within the kingdom’s gates. Grar shook his head. “We hold here. Give the line to Ror and Ganly. Have the wounded boys form up behind us.” Gund nodded and bid his heralds to wind the commands.

Ganly and the Sunderers chanted in deep voices as they marched to the front of the line. The Steel Born, the Black Helms, and row after row of novice conscripts stood ready. Gund would have sent their whole force forward after the goblins retreated, but he had to trust his king. He took heart when the Sunderers and Gatebreakers formed the new line. These were the best of their seasoned men, gifted with subtlety as well as might. They arranged themselves perfectly, giving the appearance of a weakened line, leaving gaps in their formation that the goblins would likely seek to take advantage of. But behind those apparent weak points were thirsty spears ready to drink.

The goblins came back with fresh forces. This time they no fire weapons, but their archers sent a maelstrom of arrows into the dwarven line. The arrows bounced harmlessly off of shield and helm, but the conscripts flinched and duck still. Gund smiled inside his helm when he saw how the Sunderers feigned fear. They trembled and and looked fearfully about them. The charging goblins grinned hungrily and howled as they closed in, then fell in droves as the Sunderes formed a phalanx at the last moment. The ‘weak points’ in their line worked well. The goblins had poured towards them and had no where to run to when the Sunderers thrusted their spears in perfect unison.

Ganly winded his own ringing horn and the Sunderers spread their ranks, allowing the Gatebreakers to file in and strengthen their position. The next wave of goblins were far more wary than the last, but now they faced the increased numbers Ror brought. Wave after wave of them broke upon the elite legions of Thrond, and like water they flowed harmlessly onto the shore, then slipped back to the sea. The stoney floor was wet and blue with goblin blood.

Gund revelled in the sight, and thanked Orvar the Sunderers and Gatebreakers had not eaten of the tainted food. The battle would have been lost if not for them, and now he began to feel he’d been fretting over nothing. He looked for his nephew, and saw his peculiar helm standing high over the other soldiers. He had a goblin skewered on his spear and was waving it in the air like a trophy. The goblins about him cowered and tried to run, only to be trampled by their own soldiers as they rushed forward to fight.

A nervous shout disrupted his joy. The citadel! Someone was crying. He turned and saw a courier in light maille rushing from the gate.

“Dread Sovereign!” he bellowed. The man was limping, out of breath and covered in red blood. “They’re in the citadel!”

“Who’s in the citadel?!” Grar thundered.

“The drow, Dread Sovereign. Hundreds of them. They came in through the windows!”