Indomitus Est (The Fovean Chronicles) by Robert Brady Page B

they would be afraid that one band had doubled back, but even then, this made a good place to stop.  The mountainsides were steep, the end of the day approaching and they could see half a mile down any one trail, the most they could expect in the mountains.
         The scouts left without finding us.  I heaved a sigh of relief.  I knew that having to kill more scouts would put the army on its guard.  We waited longer.  I finished the stallion’s mane and worked on his tail.  I considered braiding both to keep them from flying loose in battle but didn’t know how he would like that and decided against the idea.  I wouldn’t be riding him except to escape.
         I had that route picked out and Kvitch knew it.  I would fight for these people, as they were the only ones I knew, but not die for their Dwarven Nation.  If things got bad, I knew an easy pass on the other side of this mountain, and a difficult trail to it.  That would take me south to a country called Sental, where I could try to blend in.  Then I could go west to Volkhydro, where I wouldn’t have to worry about being discovered.
         The day dragged on until the army approached.  Again, we heard them singing, arguing, and laughing before they got there.  The Dwarves below me at their barricade, Hvarl and Kvitch not among them, commented on the poor quality of Man soldiers.  I said nothing.  If my new God had His way, I had a feeling that would change, and thought for a moment that this might all be part of His design.
         Back in the cell, the Egyptian had talked to me about faith and god’s will.  I had spoken to my god and I knew his will.  What I had faith in consisted mostly of fear of what he could do to me – other than that,  ‘be successful’ covered a lot of ground that I didn’t need to hash over.
         These Dorkans piled more than filed into the valley.  I heard some shouting from a central group of Men, some of whom walked and others who were borne on litters.  What I assumed were officers were giving general orders that were haphazardly followed if at all. 
         “Secure that area!”
         “Set up the Grand Pavilion” 
         “Explore those mountain sides!”
         “Sergeant, post a watch!” 
         Their army transformed into a jumble with Men milling around trying to look busy.  I stood and strung my long bow.  In about twenty minutes the lot of them had entered the valley, and some were looking to the crags in the mountainside.  I drew an arrow, sighted down its length, and picked a target, a fat man on a well-padded litter with a lot of soldiers carrying it.  The soldiers near him were huge; he had to be one of the more important Wizards.
         The man straightened all of a sudden, and I felt my skin prickle and the hairs on my arm stand up.  I didn’t hesitate to let loose, even though I had barely sighted him.  The arrow flew true and took the man in the shoulder – my first shot, and a lucky one.  He howled in pain and I reloaded.
         This signaled the Dwarves to start their offensive.  Hastily gathered spears rained down on the encampment from the mountains.  The Dorkans blew a whistle and I let loose again, killing a man next to one of the other Wizards.  My third shot took another Wizard, a fat one like the first, in his pudgy leg.  Rather than falling he exploded in a ball of fire.  I stood back at that, stunned for a second, and a nearby Dwarf hissed at me to keep firing.
         I did.  Volley after volley, even after the spears had been expended and the Dwarves began throwing rocks.  The army milled in confusion and, as expected, drew in around the remaining Wizards.  A huge Dwarf below and to the right of me, three-fourths the distance to the barricade where the other Dwarves were hidden, crouched with his head down, ready with a hammer.  On the opposite side of the bowl another Dwarf waited for him to strike a blow.  When that