The Fall of Dorkhun by D. A. Adams Read Free Book Online Page B

whispered amongst themselves, and palpable tension rippled through the lines. Leinjar composed himself and banged on his stand.
    “Every Tredjard at this gate,” he bellowed. “Shut your mouth and listen.”
    The whispers fell silent.
    “Our job is to hold this gate. We fight for those who can’t, for our friends, for our families. You are Tredjards, dark beards of the southern mountains. We do not fear orcs.”
    The soldiers cheered and raised their weapons above their heads.
    “Get to your positions and be ready.”
    The archers moved to their perches, two rows of wooden scaffolds set back from and on either side of the gate. The infantry fell into place beneath the scaffolds, forming an arc around the entrance. Leinjar followed the archers and checked each dwarf’s crossbow and quiver. Satisfied that all twenty were ready, he climbed down and walked through the infantry, adjusting armor on some, repositioning others, and giving words of encouragement to all. When he completed the inspection, he took his place in the center of the arc.
    “They come for slaves,” he called. “Don’t get taken alive.”
    The soldiers readied themselves, and no one spoke. The only sounds were those of their own breathing, and as the minutes stretched on, Leinjar began to think that maybe the orcs had turned back south to another gate. Then, the faint sound of marching reached him, hundreds of feet moving in unison and armor clanging. At first the sound was pleasant, and as a well-trained soldier he admired the precision of it, but as the orcs got closer, the noise grew louder and more ominous, much the way thunder becomes more threatening the closer a storm gets. Then, the marching stopped and was followed by a voice hissing orders in orcish.
    Suddenly, the first wave appeared at the gate with a battering ram. It was a recently felled tree with an iron cap fashioned on one end and several branches left to serve as handles. At least a dozen orcs charged the iron gate with the ram. Leinjar called for a volley from the archers, and they fired as one, the bolts whistling through the bars and striking the orcs near the front. The ram slammed into the gate with a crash, and the bodies of the front orcs were thrust against the bars. As the ram retreated a few steps, their broken bodies slumped to the ground.
    The archers reloaded their crossbows, but the ram got in two solid blows before they could get off another shot. The gate was damaged beyond repair, so Leinjar called for the archers to hold fire. The ram thudded against the gate a fourth time, and its hinges gave. The Tredjard infantry readied their halberds, and the archers took aim. Leinjar called for them to fire in waves so there would be a constant volley coming down, and the head archer signaled his understanding and repeated the order.
    A moment later, the first orcs came through the broken gate. They were armed with heavy clubs meant to subdue the dwarves. The archers unleashed the first wave, and the orcs fell in the entranceway, but more poured in. The second wave fired, and more orcs fell, but as soon as one fell, another pushed through. While the first and second waves reloaded, the third fired, but enough orcs had stormed through to reach the infantry.
    Leinjar ordered his men forward, and with their halberds the Tredjards hacked and stabbed the orcs. For several minutes, they easily held the gate, and dozens upon dozens of orcs lay dead, but there was no end to the charge. A Tredjard to his left yelled above the noise:
    “Sir, we have to fall back!”
    “No!” Leinjar screamed, striking an orc. “We hold this gate to the last dwarf.”
    “There’s too many!”
    “Then, we die here,” Leinjar answered.
    In his peripheral vision, he could see that several dwarves had been taken, and the flanks near the gate were being pushed back. In his heart, he knew they wouldn’t last much longer. The remaining infantry was tiring from the onslaught, and the archers were