Whatever these creatures were, they were not easily frightened. As he came around again Kurdran saw that the remaining greenskins had their weapons up and ready now, and they gathered into a tighter cluster so the dwarves could not strike as easily. They had not counted on the aerial advantage, however. Kurdran whirled his hammer overhead, and let it fly. The heavy stone had struck a greenskin right in the temple, toppling it with a loud crack like an Ironforge pistol, and as the creature fell it pushed against two others, who stepped forward to avoid being entangled.
"Ha! That's taken ye down a peg!" Kurdran crowed at the fallen creatures. He was on them before they could realize their mistake, his stormhammer back in his hand, but let Sky'ree finish the fallen creatures, her powerful front claws laying one low and her sharp hooked beak tearing apart a second even as her wings stunned a third.
The skirmish was over quickly. Whatever these greenskins were, they were slow and not used to facing an airborne attack. And Kurdran and his people were experts at striking those on the ground. The creatures had managed to land a few blows, and some of his dwarves had wounds to tend, but they had lost no one and left no one unharmed behind them. Only a few of the greenskins in this particular grouping had survived, and only then by fleeing back under the trees.
"That's taught them to look up," Kurdran pointed out, and his dwarves laughed. "Back to the Peak then, lads. We'll send out another team soon to take out another o' their little clusters. Mayhap then they'll learn to give Aerie Peak a wider berth."
"Get ready," Lothar whispered. He had slowed his horse to a mere walk, since anything faster risked running into trees or being unhorsed by low branches, and now he drew his greatsword and held it before him, his shield raised on his other arm. "They should be close by."
Turalyon nodded and hefted his warhammer, riding to his commander's back left as usual. Khadgar rode beside him, the three of them forming a classic cavalry triangle, and though the mage's hands were empty Turalyon had learned to respect the magics his friend could wield in battle. Straining his eyes, Turalyon tried to pierce the gloom of the trees and see their quarry. Somewhere around here…
"There!" He pointed ahead and to the right, beyond Khadgar, and his two companions followed his gesture. After a moment Lothar nodded. It took the wizard a minute longer before he too had noticed the flicker of movement against the trees in that direction, a motion too low to be a bird and too steady to be a snake or insect or whatever else infested such forests. No, that flicker could only be from something the size of a man walking through the forest, and the fact that it kept repeating meant either the same figure was circling back repeatedly or it was a large group, The fact that it was barely visible meant the figures were the same color as their surroundings. All of which added up to one thing: orcs.
"Got them," Lothar agreed quietly. He glanced back at Khadgar. "Let the others know," he instructed, and the young—old mage nodded and backed his horse away quietly. "Meantime, we'll keep watch," the Champion told Turalyon, who nodded. "And if they look like they're getting away, well, we'll just have to make sure they've got reason to turn and come back this way again, eh?"
"Yes, sir!" Turalyon grinned and patted the haft of his warhammer. He was ready. He still got nervous going into battle, but he no longer worried about freezing up or turning tail. He'd faced the orcs once already, and he knew he could do it again.
"We've lost Tearlach," Iomhar reported. Kurdran stared at him in surprise. "Oengus as well," the Wildhammer fighter continued. "And two more are too winded to continue fighting."
"What happened?" Kurdran demanded. The other dwarf looked embarrassed for a second, then turned belligerent.
"The greenskins, tha's what!" he replied. "They were ready for us! When we dropped toward them they started throwing spears! Then they scattered so we couldn't target them amid the trees." He shook his head. "Your strike was lucky, and took them by surprise. They've learned, though, the ugly buggers, and fast."
Kurdran nodded. "Not stupid, these greenskins," he agreed. "And more o' them than we thought." He studied the map of the Hinterlands spread out before him, and the markers he'd been using to show where the greenskins were marching. The map was almost completely covered. "Well, we'll just have to hit them afore they can react. Tell the lads to come in fast and hard, and to stay beyond the greenskins' throws. They're working against gravity and we're working with it, so we've got the advantage."
Iomhar nodded, but before he could say anything Beathan burst in. "Trolls!" he shouted, collapsing onto a nearby stool. His left arm hung useless at his side, still bleeding from a deep cut near the shoulder. "We were diving on a party of those greenskins when a pack of forest trolls jumped us! Took out Moray and Seaghdh with their first blows and knocked Alpin and Lachtin from their gryphons." He indicated his wound. "I took a nasty cut from one's axe but managed to dodge the second blow, or it'd have taken me head off."
"Damn!" Kurdran growled. "They're teamed with the trolls then, greenskin and greenskin! And those trolls'll keep us from using the trees!" He tugged at his mustache in frustration. "We need something to even the odds, and fast, lads, or they'll be swarming us over like ants on a beetle."
As if to answer his statement a third dwarf appeared to report. But this one, a scout named Dermid, wasn't wounded. And he looked pleased rather than worried.
"Humans!" he announced happily. "A great mass o' them! They say they've come to help us fight off the orcs—that's what they call the greenskins."
"Ancestors be praised," Kurdran rumbled. "If they can keep these orcs busy enough to forget their new tactics, we can strike them down from above again." He grinned as he hefted his stormhammer. "Aye, and we'll be taking care of any trolls that get close, too. They may control the trees but we rule the skies, and our gryphons will tear them apart an' they come within reach." He turned and stalked toward the door, already whistling for Sky'ree. "Wildhammers, let's fly!" he shouted, and behind him the other dwarves cheered and hastened to obey.
"Now!" Lothar spurred his mount forward and charged across the clearing, bursting upon the pack of orcs. They whirled about, clearly surprised—they had been busy watching the skies, and many of them were holding spears instead of their usual axes and hammers. One thought to throw its spear at Lothar but the Champion was too close by then, and his massive sword swept out, shearing through spear and arm together, then looping back and removing the orc's head before its severed arm had even hit the ground.
Turalyon was right beside him, and his hammer struck an orc and shattered its chest. His second blow glanced off an orc's arm, which was enough to make the green—skinned creature drop its axe. He simply struck it in the head this time, and it crumpled without a sound.
But Turalyon did hear a strange noise, somewhere between a cough and a laugh, and glanced up. A tall figure, taller than an orc and more narrowly built, dropped from the trees in front of him, a spear held in its large, long—fingered hands. Its eyes were sharp and narrow, its features narrow as well, and it grinned at him as it jabbed with its spear, showing rows of pointed teeth. A troll!
Turalyon raised his shield, blocking the spear thrust even though it hammered his shield back against him hard enough to leave his arm weak. He responded with a fierce blow from his hammer, staggering the troll but not stopping it. The creature glided forward again, spear at the ready, and Turalyon spurred his horse forward, bracing his shield just before it smashed into the troll's face and chest. The troll had not expected that crude an attack and took the blow full—force, reeling back and shaking its head to clear it. Turalyon didn't give it time to recover, however. His hammer took it in the jaw and dropped the troll to the ground in a heap.