"Running wedge?" he asked.
"Send 'em out! All of 'em!" Torgar shouted. He lifted his warhammer high and yelled, "With me, boys!"
Torgar leaped out from behind the stony barricade, Shingles at his side. Without even bothering to look left or right, the dwarf charged down the hill, confident that his boys would not let him down.
And that confidence was well placed. The dwarves poured out like water, tumbling and rolling right back to their feet. In a few short strides, they were already forming their running wedge and by the time they hit the leading trolls, their formations were tight and well supported.
Torgar was, fittingly, first to engage. He led with a great sweep of his hammer, and the troll standing before him hopped back out of range, then came in fast behind the swipe. Apparently thinking it had the aggressive little creature vulnerable, the troll opened wide its mouth and lunged forward to bite at the dwarf.
Just as Torgar had hoped, for as his hammer cut the air before the beast, the dwarf, who hadn't put half the weight behind that swing as he had made it appear, yanked against the momentum and reversed the flow of the weapon, bringing it in close. He slid one hand up the shaft of the hammer as he moved one foot forward, turning almost sidelong to the troll, then thrust weapon's head straight out into the diving mouth of the troll. Teeth splintered and Torgar heard the crack of the troll's jawbone.
Not one to sit on his laurels, the dwarf yanked his hammer back, snapping it into a roll over his trailing right shoulder and letting go with his left hand. He caught the weapon down low with his left hand again as it came spinning up over his head, then chopped down with all his strength, every muscle in his body snapping, driving the hammerhead into the troll's brain.
The creature fell straight to the ground, squirming wildly, and Torgar just kicked it in the face as he barreled by.
* * * * *
"Clever dwarves," Kaer'lic Suun Wett remarked.
With Tos'un beside her, the drow priestess stood on a high, tree-covered bluff off to the side of the main action.
"They saw that the trolls were coming up widespread and gradually, trying to draw out their flaming brands," Tos'un agreed.
"And now they've sent those leading decoys running or to the ground, and not a brand have they thrown," said Kaer'lic.
The contrast between the dwarves' tactics and those of the humans standing beside them came crystal clear. While the dwarves had come out in a wild charge, the humans held their ground, and had indeed launched many of their fiery brands against the leading troll line.
"Proffit will exploit the human line and drive around to flank the dwarves," Kaer'lic said, pointing up that way.
Lower on the field, the disciplined dwarves had already turned around, having scattered the leading trolls. Their wedge retreated without a pivot, so that the dwarves at the trailing, widespread edges were the first back over the wall, and those dwarves wasted no time in stoking the fires and readying the barrage.
Kaer'lic growled and punched her fist into her open palm when she noted Proffit's forces closing in on the dwarves' retreat. The trolls had been clearly enraged by the brash charge of the bearded folk, and were rolling up the hill behind the retreating point of the wedge, grouped tightly.
Before those running dwarves even got over the wall, the barrage began, with dozens and dozens of burning logs spinning over the wall and out over the dwarves. So closely grouped, the trolls took hit after hit, and when the flames stuck on one, sending it up in a burst of fire, its close-standing comrades, too, felt the fiery bite.
"Fools," Kaer'lic grunted, and the priestess began muttering the words of a spell.
A moment later, a small geyser of water appeared among the trolls, dousing fires and buying them some freedom from the dwarves' volley. Kaer'lic finished her spell, muttered under her breath, and began to conjure some more water. How much easier it all would have been, she thought, had Proffit not allowed the pursuit and had instead sent the bulk of his minions at the western, human end of the defensive line….
* * * * *
Even with the magical interference of an unexpected burst of water, the firestorm proved considerable and highly effective, sending troll after troll up in a blaze. But Torgar saw the truth of the situation before him. They had stung their enemies again, but their time of advantage was over. Their fuel was exhausted.
Torgar looked past the flames and flaming trolls, to the horde of enemies behind, lurking down the hill, patiently waiting for the fires to diminish.
"Ye hold 'em here as long as ye can, but not a moment longer," Torgar instructed Shingles.
"Where're ye going, then?" the old dwarf asked.
"Galen Firth's needing to hear this from me again, so that there's no misunderstanding. We're going when we're going, and if they're not going, then they're on their own."
"Tell him, and let him see yer eyes when ye tell him," Shingles said. "He's a stubborn one."
"He'll be a dead one, then, and so be it."
Torgar patted his old friend on the shoulder and trotted along to the west, moving behind his boys and encouraging them with every step. He soon came to the human warriors, all readying their weapons, for their fires were burning low out on the hill before them. The dwarf had little trouble finding Galen Firth, for the man was up on a stone, shouting encouragement and pumping his fist.
"Well fought!" he said to Torgar when he spotted the approaching dwarf. "A brilliant move to go out and attack."
"Aye, and a smarter move's coming soon," Torgar replied. "The one that's putting us back in the tunnels, not to come out again."
Galen's smile remained as he digested those words, coming down from the stone. By the time he was standing before Torgar, that smile had been replaced by a frown.
"They have not breached our line, nor shall they!"
"Strong words, well spoken," said Torgar. "And true in the first and hopeful in the second. But if we're waiting to see if ye're right or wrong on what's to come, and ye're wrong, then we're all dead."
"I long ago pledged my life to the defense of Nesme."
"Then stand yer ground if that's yer choice. I'm here to tell ye that me and me boys're heading into the tunnels, and there we're to stay." Torgar was well aware of the many frightened looks coming in at him from all around at that proclamation.
"Ye'll want to tighten yer line, then," said Torgar. "If ye're that stubborn. Me thinking's that ye should be going into the tunnels with us—yer old ones and young afore us, and yer fighters beside us. That's me thinking, Galen Firth. Take it as ye will."
The dwarf bowed and turned to leave.
"I beg you to stay," Galen surprised him by saying. "As General Dagna decided to fight for Nesme."
Torgar turned on him sharply, his heavy eyebrows furrowing and shadowing his dark eyes. "Dagna gave his life and his boys gave theirs because ye were too stubborn to know when to run," he corrected. "It's not a mistake I'm planning on making. Ye been told that we're going. Ye been invited to come. Choice is yer own, and not mine."
The dwarf was quick in moving off, and when Galen called to him again, he just continued on his way, muttering, "Durn fool," under his breath with every step.
"Wait! Wait!" came a cry from behind, one that did turn Torgar around. He saw another of the Nesme warriors, Rannek, running along the line toward Galen Firth and pointing up at the sky. "Good dwarf, wait! It is Alustriel! Alustriel has come again!"
Torgar followed his finger skyward, and there in the dark sky the dwarf saw the streaking chariot of fire, coming in hard and fast.
At the same time, drumbeats filled the air, booming in from the southeast, and horns began to blow.