True to his word, Snorri waited seven days for the army of the High King to arrive. But his father was late and the prince’s patience at an end. The reinforcements from Barak Varr had also failed to materialise, so with just over thirty thousand dwarfs at his banner, he had marched.
On the fifth day, a band of rangers had returned from scouting. Their leader, Kundi Firebeard, had said the elves numbered in the region of ten thousand, including cavalry.
‘Heh, what use are horses during a siege?’ Drogor had asked.
‘I have seen riders charge from a gate to sack machineries, kill their crews,’ Morgrim had replied. ‘We shouldn’t underestimate the elgi knights.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Snorri had told them both, ‘we are committed to this now. Riders or not, Tor Alessi will fall.’
In the end the prince had chosen the Brundin road, the stories of monstrous trees coming to life and hellish sprites, however far-fetched, enough to dissuade him from taking the mountains. Expecting resistance, the dwarf throng had marched in a tight column with rangers roaming its flanks and rear. They need not have bothered. No elven war host stood in their way. No scouts harried their advance this time. The dwarfs had been allowed to march on Tor Alessi unimpeded.
Several times since they had set out, Morgrim had voiced concern that their haste would mean the High King’s army was that little bit farther away.
Snorri had dismissed his cousin’s misgivings, stating that thirty thousand dwarfs were more than enough to crack open one elven citadel.
That conviction had not changed.
‘Twenty of the hearthguard with me,’ said Snorri, gesturing to the last rise. Over that and they would see the port city and its defences relatively close up for the first time. ‘You too, cousin.’
Led by the prince the dwarfs climbed up the boulder-strewn ridge, descending to their bellies as they neared the summit in case elven spotters were watching the approach and had ready quarrels to hand.
Snorri was the first to reach the top and peer over the edge.
The city was distant, still another hour’s march away, and the dwarf army would be revealed long before they reached it. Bigger than Snorri first imagined, Tor Alessi was erected around a port and used most of the coastline in its defences. Aside from rugged, impenetrable cliffs facing out towards the sea, high walls surrounded a core of inner buildings and there were three large gatehouses. Elven devices, the eagle, dragon rampant and the rising phoenix, were emblazoned on each. Snorri counted three massive towers amongst lesser minarets and minor citadels. There was a large keep, appended in part to the port, and this was protected by a second defensive wall with only one gate. Impressive as it was, what surrounded the elven city surprised the dwarf prince more.
‘I did not know it was at the centre of a lake,’ said Morgrim, as if speaking Snorri’s thoughts aloud.
Snorri reached for a spyglass offered by one of his hearthguard and peered down the lens.
‘It’s no lake…’ he breathed after a few seconds. Putting down the spyglass, he licked his lips to moisten the sudden dryness. ‘It’s an army.’
An undulating ribbon of almost endless silver surrounded the outskirts of Tor Alessi, a vast host of elves that glittered in the winter sun. Pennons attached to the lances of knights whipped around on the breeze coming down off the ridge and numerous ranks of spearmen stood in ready formation with rows of archers to their rear.
‘Grungni’s hairy arse…’ muttered one of the hearthguard.
Morgrim ignored him, pointing to the elven right flank. ‘There,’ he said, ‘machineries.’
Snorri had seen them during the brodunk, elven chariots drawn by horses. There were at least a hundred in a close-knit squadron, scythed wheels catching the light and shimmering like star-fire.
He cast his gaze skywards and felt suddenly foolish for their attempts at subterfuge. Circling above were flocks of birds. Not like the screech hawks, talon owls or griffon vultures of the peaks, these were giant eagles with claws and beaks like blades.
Snorri lowered the spyglass for the second time.
‘Looks like they’re expecting us,’ he said to the others.
‘It explains why the road became suddenly empty,’ said Morgrim.
‘Because they were all here.’
Snorri got to his feet, seeing no point in stealth any more. ‘I am no engineer, but a sight more than ten thousand wouldn’t you say, cousin?’
Morgrim nodded slowly, taking in the glittering host in all its shining glory.
‘What do you want to do?’
The prince sniffed disdainfully, hiking up his belt.
‘First I want to punish Kundi Firebeard for his abject stupidity, then I want to march down there and kill some thagging elgi.’
It wasn’t like Kor Vanaeth and the clash for the gate. Nadri had never fought in open pitched battle before. Before the short siege at the elven city, he had never donned axe and shield in anything more than a skirmish. Unlike Krondi had been, he wasn’t a campaigner or a soldier; though he knew his axecraft as all clansmen did, he was a merchant. With war unleashed upon the land, Nadri had exchanged gold for blood as his currency.
It was proving a difficult trade.
Two dwarf war hosts had descended the ridge into the teeth of the elven hordes. His liege-lord King Brynnoth led one, his cup of vengeance not even half full from Agrin Fireheart’s untimely death. The other was led by Valarik of Karak Hirn, though Nadri did not know him except by sight.
Arrows met them at first, a heavy rain of steel-fanged death that reaped a lesser tally than the pointy-ears had hoped. Dwarfs knew defence as well as attack, and their formations were peerless. Locking shields front, back, to the flanks and above, several large cohorts had weathered the arrow storm with almost no casualties. But for the uncanny accuracy of the elven archers, no dwarf blood
