Lord of the Libraries Read Online Free

blood was in the offing, he might have laughed at the sight. There were a few blacksmiths who made armor among the goblinkin, but they were seldom seen. Most of the armor the goblins wore came from the spoils of war, dragged from the bodies of humans and dwarves.
    Come on now. Don’t back away none. Just us trees in the forest a-waitin’ on ye. Ye’re safe enough here. Varrowyn took a fresh grip on his battle-axe.
    Almost as tall as humans and loutish looking, the goblins possessed triangular, wedge-shaped heads filled with wide mouths and big, crooked teeth. Spiky black hair sprouted from their heads, chins, and out their flaring ears. Most of them were broad-shouldered, but either tended to be overweight or undernourished looking. A goblin’s diet and metabolism either made for feast or famine, with few left between, so they either ran fat or they ran skinny. Ugly, gray-green, splotchy skin covered them and marked them instantly.
    All of them wore armor tonight, but few had taken care to work in a layer of lampblack so the metal wouldn’t shine. At least, if the armor were
clean it would have shined. As it was now, the metal surfaces only reflected a dulled sheen, but it was still visible. They carried axes, swords, and cudgels.
    Finally, the goblins were all ashore. They clustered together along the shoreline.
    Stupid beasties, Varrowyn thought. If he’d been in charge, he’d have ordered four separate landings at minimum that were properly spaced apart so they couldn’t all be taken at once but would still be able to help each other.
    He rose with a yell. “Archers!”
    Instantly, the eight elven warders among the group loosed shafts. Arrows hissed through the air and sank into the goblinkin, piercing their chests, throats, and eyes. At least twenty of the enemy died in that onslaught, their bodies falling at the feet of their comrades and over the side of the drop-off to the foaming water below.
    “Again!” Varrowyn yelled.
    Arrows took flight again. This time the goblinkin lifted their shields and most of the shafts broke against them. Crying out in fear and rage, the goblinkin rushed the tree line.
    “Set anvils!” Varrowyn roared. He stepped out of the darkness and into step with his shield mates.
    Dividing into four-man groups, the dwarves set anvils, their chosen defensive posture. Two by two, with the front two men carrying large shields and hand axes, maces, or morning stars, the dwarves met the goblinkin attack and held them. The thunder of metal-on-metal filled the forest. The two dwarves in the back carried battle-axes and waited for the cry to go out for—
    “Axes!” Varrowyn commanded.
    As the goblinkin reeled back from the dwarven shields, the dwarves rotated into axes, forming the offensive groups in a diamond shape, or a two-by-two square turned on edge. One of the warriors carrying a battle-axe stepped to the forefront and was flanked by two others so no one could intercept them without braving a deadly net of flashing steel. They became wedges that drove into the midst of their opponents.
    The humans moved in to confront their enemies one-on-one without the concerted effort of the dwarves. The elven warders, accompanied by their animal companions consisting of birds, badgers, and bears, fought as well, staying on the outside of the battle and picking off their opponents.
But it was the dwarves who ripped the heart out of the massed goblinkin, driving deeply into them again and again and leaving a twisted trail of bodies behind.
    Varrowyn sang a dwarven fighting song, timed perfectly so that the cadence matched a warrior’s natural weapon swing. His fellow dwarves joined in, and their voices reverberated throughout the forest and across the crashing surf.
    He blocked a spear thrust to the side with his axe, then swung the iron-bound haft up into the goblin’s face, breaking teeth and sending the foul creature stumbling back to take down yet another. Sidestepping a blow, the dwarven