But they had to hold out until all were down.
The sceptrana turned away and sucked in her breath as one dwarf up ahead of her fell back, a spear deep in his chest. With no reserves immediately available to fill the gap, the sceptrana stepped forward, extending one arm and calling forth a burst of magical missiles that drove the orcs back. So many more came on, though.
Shoudra breathed a sigh of relief as a pair of dwarves scrambled past her, one going to his wounded kin, the other taking the downed dwarf's position at the low stone wall.
The orcs came on.
Looking all around to find the most effective area for her blasts, Shoudra's attention was caught and held by the spectacle of a single orc, a huge, armored creature swinging a sword nearly as tall as she at the end of one strong arm. He waded through his own ranks, orcs scrambling to get out of his way, stalking determinedly for the wall.
A crossbow bolt whistled out and smacked hard against his metal breastplate, but it did not penetrate and did not slow him in the least. In fact, he even sped up his rush, leaping forward into a roaring run.
Shoudra brought forth her magical power and struck him head-on with a lightning bolt, one that lifted him from his feet and threw him back into the throng. Figuring him dead, the sceptrana turned her attention back to the throng pressing the dwarves, and she ignited another fireball just forward of the dwar-ven line, so close that even the dwarves felt the rush of heat.
Again, flaming orcs scrambled and fell burning to the ground, but through that opening came a familiar figure, that great orc carrying a huge greatsword.
Shoudra's eyes widened when she saw him, for no orc could so readily accept the hit of one of her lightning blasts!
But it was the same orc, she knew, and he came on with fury, plowing over any orcs who could not scramble out of his way, reaching the wall and dwar-ven line in a rush, his sword slashing across, scattering the dwarves. He dropped his shoulder and plowed on, driving right through the hastily built rock wall, knocking heavy stones aside with ease.
Dwarves went at him, and dwarves went flying away, slashed by the sword, swatted with his free arm, even kicked high into the air.
And all the while, Shoudra suddenly realized, he was looking directly at her.
On came the mighty orc, and Nanfoodle gave a shriek. Shoudra heard the gnome quickly casting, but she knew instinctively that he would not divert that beast. She brought her hands up before her, thumbs touching tip to tip.
"Be gone, little demon," she said, and a wide arc of orange flames erupted from her fingers.
The sceptrana turned, using the distraction to get out of the way, but then she got punched—or thought it was a punch. She tried to move, but her feet skidded on the stone, and she was strangely held in place. She looked back, and she understood, for it was no punch that had hit her, but the thrust of a great-sword. Shoudra looked down to see less than half of that blade remaining before her chest; she knew that it had gone right through her.
Still with only the one mighty hand holding the sword, the orc lifted Shoudra Stargleam up into the air.
She heard Nanfoodle shriek, but it was somehow very far away.
She heard the dwarves cry out and saw them scrambling, in fear, it seemed.
She saw a sudden flash of silver and felt the jerk as the great orc staggered backward.
* * *
Her legs looped within the coils of the drop rope, Catti-brie hung upside down, reloading her bow, letting fly another shot at the monstrous beast who held Shoudra aloft. Her first arrow had struck home, right in the thing's chest, and had knocked the orc backward a single step.
But it had not penetrated.
"Get him away!" Catti-brie yelled to Wulfgar.
The barbarian had leaped to the ground and was even then bearing down on the orc. He cried out to Tempus and brought his hammer to bear—brought his whole body to bear—throwing himself at the orc, trying to knock it aside.
Suddenly Wulfgar was flying backward, blocked, stopped and thrown back by a swipe of the great ore's arm. The great barbarian, who had taken hits offered by giants, staggered back and stumbled to the ground.
The orc lifted his arm higher, presented the squirming Shoudra up into the air, and roared. The sword came to fiery life, and Shoudra howled all the louder. The mighty orc jerked his arm side to side.
Shoudra Stargleam fell apart.
Catti-brie hit the beast with another arrow, and a third, but by that last shot, he wasn't even staggering backward from the blows anymore. He turned and started toward Wulfgar.
The spinning Aegis-fang hit him hard. The orc stumbled back a few steps, and almost fell to the ground.
Almost.
On came the beast, charging Wulfgar with abandon.
The barbarian recalled Aegis-fang to his hand and met that charge with another cry to his god, and a great swipe of his mighty hammer. Sword against hammer they battled, two titans standing tall above the onlookers.
Down came Aegis-fang, smashing hard against the ore's shoulder, sending him skidding to the side. Across came the flaming greatsword, and Wulfgar had to throw his hips back, barely getting out of reach.
The orc followed that wide slash by leaping forward even as Wulfgar came forward behind the blade, and the two collided hard, muscle against muscle.
A heavy punch sent Wulfgar flying away, had him staggering on the stones, barely able to keep his feet.
The orc pursued, sword in both hands, leaping in for the killing blow that the barbarian couldn't begin to block,
An arrow hit the orc in the face, spraying sparks across the glassteel, but he came on anyway and cleaved at the barbarian.
At least, the orc thought it was the barbarian, for where force and fire had failed, Nanfoodle had succeeded, misdirecting the blow with an illusionary Wulfgar, to the swift demise of a second orc who happened to be standing too close to King Obould's rage.
Catti-brie leaped down to the stone, caught up Wulfgar under one arm, and shoved him away.
The orc moved to catch them—or tried to, for suddenly the stone around his feet turned to mud, right up to his ankles, then turned back to stone.
"Bad orc!" cried a green-bearded dwarf, and he poked the fingers of his one hand in Obould's direction.
The furious orc king roared and squirmed, then reached down and punched the stone. Then, with strength beyond belief, he tore one foot free.
"Oooo," said the green-bearded dwarf.
Down came more help then, in the form of the Gutbusters, falling all around the pair, leaping into battle. Any who got near to the great orc, though, fell fast and fell hard.
Down came Torgar and Tred, Shingles and Ivan, and the wounded Banak, sweeping up Catti-brie and Wulfgar, the stunned and crying Nanfoodle, and all the others in their wake as they ran flat out across Keeper's Dale, angling for the doors of Mithral Hall.
Only then did Catti-brie notice the pillar of strength that stood supporting the routed dwarves in the wider battle, the indomitable power of her own father, legs planted firmly upon a tall stone, axe sweeping orcs away, dwarves rallying all around him.
"Bruenor," she mouthed, unable to even comprehend how it could be, how her father could have arisen once more.
* * *
Out toward the center of the dale, Bruenor marked well the run of Banak's retreat and of his own son and daughter—and glad he was to see them alive.
His forces had held strong, somehow, against the overwhelming odds, had stemmed the undeniable tide.
At great cost, the dwarf king knew, and he knew, too, that that orc sea would not be denied—especially since the giants were fast approaching, bolstering the orc lines.
From up on his rock, the dwarf king called for a retreat, told his boys to turn and run for the doors. But Bruenor didn't move, not an inch, until the others had all broken ranks.