Feathered Dragon - Douglas Niles [124]
“There!” bellowed Daggrande. He saw the trolls burst through the line. The mass of green split into two groups, wheeling to the right and left, respectively.
The first group faced the flank of Tabub’s diminutive archers. The Little Men turned and showered the trolls with arrows as Luskag and the desert dwarves extended their line to protect the front of the halflings against the charging ores. The monsters cursed and howled in pain as the tiny arrows pricked them. Several of them, those that had been hit many times, suddenly stiffened with reflexive gasps and then collapsed to the ground, motionless and rigid.
The reserve company rushed forward, surging into contact with the second group of trolls. Daggrande chopped his axe into the back of one of the creatures, driving it to its knees. Savagely the dwarf attacked the troll, his blade delivering a hailstorm of blows. He left the troll a mangled mass on the grass, while the last rank of the reserve company stopped to shower the corpse with oil and touch a flame to it. In moments, a pyre of stinking black smoke marked the demise of the troll.
Around Daggrande, other veteran soldiers attacked with halberds or long, two-handed swords. The trolls fought back savagely, and many a brave warrior fell before their talons or drooling, wicked fangs. But the persistence of the dwarf’s company, coupled with their skillful use of fire, finally began to drive the trolls back.
Daggrande knew the breach had been stemmed-for now.
Behind the dwarf, Grimes saw one of the monstrous regiments swing wide of the defenders’ line, starting a great wheel around the entire flank.
“Charge!” Grimes cried, gesturing with his sword. The horsemen, in five companies of twenty, surged into a broad
line. Lances lowered, they plunged into the regiment of ores, scattering the creatures beneath their hooves, breaking them into panicked remnants.
The ogres stood firm, clubs upraised, before the rush. But the deadly lances found these, and many a hulking monster shrieked in mountainous pain before falling to the earth before a charging rider. Desperately the dying monsters struggled to hold their torn bodies together as the last remnant of their life fluid seeped over the ground.
The horses wheeled and rode back, wracking the regiment again, trampling the survivors beneath the crushing hooves. The surviving ores broke and fled toward the shelter of the jungle. Grimes, minus a few of his riders, pulled the horsemen back behind the line.
Another regiment pressed forward, pushing around to the roar of the village of Nayap. Payit spearmen resisted. them courageously, even felling several ogres with their long, obsidian-tipped weapons. But then a dozen trolls ripped into the center of the warriors’ line, and in moments, the whole company fled in disorder.
Howling in triumph, the monstrous formation rushed to fill the gap and encircle the village. But then a small form darted across the sky, soaring over the onrushing beasts.
Pryat Devane rode his flying carpet at high speed, bringing the little platform to a sudden stop when he reached a position a hundred yards in front of the charging regiment.
“By the power of Helm, I call a plague upon you!” he shouted, raising his metal gauntlet and pointing to the first monstrous rank.
In the next moment, the buzzing, hissing, and clicking of millions of insects rose across the plain, competing with the din of battle in its intensity. Immediately the leading ogres howled in pain and surprise, slapping at their skin and twisting grotesquely in an effort to escape.
Wasps, bees, hornets, flies-all manner of stinging insects flew among the monsters, and instantly the momentum of the attack vanished. All the beasts could think about was escape, and the entire regiment dissipated as the creatures raced in every direction to escape the insect plague. Some of
them tumbled through