"Shush," Goпmgar hushed him. "Did you hear that? There's more!" He raised his shield and sneaked fearful glances over the top.
Boпndil nudged his brother boisterously. "Look, a two-legged shield!" He turned in the direction of their new adversaries and grinned. "This is my lucky orbit!" Listening attentively, he tried to calculate the number of approaching orcs. "One, two, three…" His voice became more measured and less exuberant. "… four, five." His carefree expression was gone. "One, two, three…" His eyes widened and he squared his shoulders defiantly. "This is a challenge worthy of a dwarf."
By now they could hear the clunking of armor.
"Exactly how many are there?" Tungdil demanded. He had a bad feeling about Boпndil's idea of a challenge.
"Five plus two," Ireheart said laconically. "Most of them are advancing head-on, but a smaller party is closing in from the right."
"Only seven?" Goпmgar breathed a sigh of relief and emerged a little from behind his shield.
"Five dozen infantry, plus two on horseback," Boлndal explained.
Tungdil grabbed Ireheart by the shoulders. "That's not a challenge; it's lunacy. We need to get ourselves safely behind those walls." Goпmgar didn't hang around for the discussion; he fled toward the town.
Ireheart refused to budge.
"This time you'll do as I say," Tungdil ordered him. "You've had your fun. You need to put our mission first."
The warrior fidgeted moodily. "All right, all right. Those runts don't know how lucky they are – but they'd better not catch up with us, or I'll show them what for!" He turned on Bavragor. "As for you, keep your confounded hammer away from my orcs. If I wanted your help, I'd ask for it."
"My help?" scoffed the mason. "I was helping your brother, not you. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than seeing you sliced down the middle by an orcish sword!"
"Not now," Tungdil scolded them, setting off at a jog.
They raced through the forest, crashing through branches, snapping twigs, and doing everything they could to throw off their pursuers. There was no sign of Goпmgar, who had disappeared ahead.
From the sound of the bugles, it was obvious that the orcs were fanning out to hunt them down, but the dwarves' smaller stature worked to their advantage, allowing them to slip through the undergrowth while the beasts blundered and stumbled behind them.
Soon they reached the fringes of the forest where the trees grew farther apart.
Panting and wheezing, Tungdil risked a glance over his shoulder and realized that the dark silhouettes of their pursuers looked bigger than before. It's going to be close, he thought.
Once out of the forest, they settled into a steady trot. Salvation lay half a mile away in the shape of the settlement's walls: Goпmgar was almost halfway there already.
What in the name of…Tungdil blinked, not trusting his eyes. The dark forest seemed to be keeping pace with them, advancing on either side. Then he heard the jangle of chain mail and the clatter of armor and realized the truth: We're in the middle of a raid.
A division of orcs left the shelter of the trees. There were a thousand of them or more, all advancing toward the settlement in a living line of weaponry. The line became a circle as orcs closed in from every direction. The town was surrounded-and so were the dwarves.
"Run!" Tungdil urged the others. "Run for your lives!" Enchanted Realm of Oremaira, Girdlegard, Late Autumn, 6234th Solar Cycle Goпmgar reached the protective walls of the settlement and hammered on the locked gates. Faces peered down at him from the battlements. "Let me in!" he shrieked. "In the name of Vraccas the Eternal Smith, save me from these beasts!"
"You'd think he'd put in a good word for the rest of us," snorted Bavragor, as he and the others struggled to catch up.
A panel opened in the gates and Goпmgar pushed his way through. The door slammed behind him. It remained closed, even when his companions arrived.
"Hey! What about us?" Bavragor bellowed.
Not again, cursed Tungdil. Surely he won't abandon us out here?
The orcs were dangerously close. Arrows whined toward them and landed just short.
Raising his axes, Boпndil turned to face the oncoming hordes. "Looks like I'll get my battle after all," he said, bringing the polls of his axes together in a loud, ringing beat. "Oink, oink!"
"Open the door!" shouted Tungdil. "We're dwarves! Dwarves like the other fellow. We're on the same side!"
There was no response.
The first beasts were already upon them. Ireheart dealt with them swiftly and bloodily, but their agonized howls brought orcish reinforcements to the scene.
The twins got down to business, fighting so savagely that the floor was awash with green blood. None of the orcs came within striking distance of Bavragor and Tungdil, who were standing at the back. After a while, Ireheart took an arrow to the leg, but he stood his ground, laughing manically and sending orcs to their deaths.
At least a dozen of the beasts had been massacred before the door finally opened to let them in.
Ireheart, still intent on slaying his opponents, had to be dragged inside. Boлndal talked to him in a low, soothing voice until the crazed glimmer left his eyes.
Bavragor gave Tungdil a satisfied look. "What did I tell you? He's a nutcase! A dangerous, unpredictable lunatic."
Tungdil made no reply.
Their reception committee was made up of thirty heavily armed and armored men. The soldiers eyed them suspiciously, not sure what to make of the dwarves. Goпmgar was waiting by the door, his face a deathly shade of pale.
The captain stepped forward. "Who are you and what do you want?" he asked gruffly.
Tungdil introduced them by name. "We're dwarves on a mission to track and kill orcs," he explained. "It's our Vraccas-given duty. We heard Girdlegard was in terrible danger, and we're trying to help the humans as best we can."
"Killing orcs is our specialty, as you probably noticed," added Ireheart. "I wanted to stay and flay the beasts alive, but the others were worried about being outnumbered."
Boлndal knelt down to inspect the damage to his brother's leg. The arrow had passed through the flesh without hitting the bone, so he snapped off the arrowhead and extracted the shaft from the opposite side. His brother endured his ministrations uncomplainingly, wincing only slightly when an herbal dressing and bandage were applied.
The captain was impressed by his stoicism. "In that case, Mifurdania welcomes you," he said. "The present moment augers well for orc hunters, but less favorably for our town. You'll have plenty to do here. Report to me when you're ready to join our ranks."
He hurried away. Ten of his soldiers stayed behind to barricade the door, placing a steel panel across the gates and securing it with sturdy bolts. There was a clattering and banging as the orcs laid siege to the gates, but after a time they retreated, defeated by the steel.
"That was close," Bavragor said to one of the guards. "Why didn't you open up earlier?"
The man glanced at the pale-faced Goпmgar, who was cowering in a corner. "He said to bolt it behind him," he told them. "You'd better ask him."
With that, the soldier turned away and returned to his comrades who were reinforcing the steel cladding with all available means. The gates were required to withstand the impact of a battering ram, hence the need for supporting struts and bars.
"That's not what I s-said," stammered Goпmgar. "I told him to bolt it after you." Bavragor took a menacing step toward him, and the artisan sidled out of the gate tower, ready to flee through Mifurdania's streets.
"You've been nothing but trouble since we set out," the mason accused him, waving his mighty fists in Goпmgar's face. "I'll beat you to a pulp, you miserable liar."
"And I'll shave off your shimmering whiskers with my axes," added Boпndil.