Frostborn: The False King Read Online Free

Anathgrimm in its use, or if it had originated during the long wars between the high elves and the dark elves and the urdmordar. 
    Whatever its origin, the tactic proved brutally effective.
    A rain of two hundred heavy javelins fell into the medvarth warriors, and the tight-packed medvarth had no chance to dodge. Scores of the warriors perished as the iron javelins punched through their armor and into their torsos, the heavy bladed heads driving through armor and flesh. Scores more were wounded. The Anathgrimm flung another volley of javelins, sending a rain of iron into the medvarth. This time, the enemy was prepared and managed to get their shields up, though more medvarth were killed and wounded.
    “Go!” shouted Ridmark, but the Anathgrimm knew their business. The warriors behind him split into two groups, one group heading towards the base of the hill, the others running towards the end of the defile further up the slope. The medvarth were trapped in the defile, and if all went well, the Anathgrimm could encircle them, driving the medvarth to enraged fury, causing the creatures to turn upon each other in their frenzy.
    Or they would charge through the Anathgrimm and break free. 
    Ridmark dropped his bow, drawing his staff from over his shoulder. The length of black wood could do little permanent harm to a medvarth warrior, but it proved an excellent tool for stunning and hindering the medvarth, allowing the Anathgrimm to strike with their heavy swords and axes. Kharlacht and Caius ran close behind him, Kharlacht with his dark elven greatsword, Caius with his mace of dwarven steel. 
    They reached the road just as the first of the medvarth warriors ripped free, roaring in fury and raising their weapons.
    One of the medvarth came at Ridmark, a javelin jutting from the side of its chest. The creature howled in rage and swung an axe in Ridmark’s direction, and he ducked, the heavy steel blade missing him by inches. He twisted, snapping the staff around to hit the medvarth’s left knee, and the creature stumbled. As it did, Ridmark swung his staff up, striking the shaft of the javelin. The impact drove the iron head deeper into the medvarth’s flesh, and the creature stumbled with a gurgling roar.
    Kharlacht’s greatsword sank into the side of its neck, hot red blood spurting over the blue blade. Ridmark kept going as the medvarth collapsed to the ground, and engaged another medvarth warrior. This one was uninjured, and it cast aside its shield, a javelin jutting from the reinforced wood. The medvarth came at Ridmark with a yawning roar, a sword in its right hand, slashing with the razor-edged claws of its left hand. Ridmark retreated, whipping his staff back and forth to deflect the claws. The medvarth lumbered after him, its furious yellow eyes fixed upon him.
    So the creature didn’t see Caius dart behind it and swing his mace. The weapon of dwarven steel hit the back of the medvarth’s right knee, and even over the roar of the battle, Ridmark heard the crack of shattering bone. The medvarth stumbled as its wounded leg collapsed, its howl of rage turning to a shriek of pain, and Ridmark brought his staff down upon the crown of the medvarth’s head with three rapid blows. Even the medvarth’s thick skull could not withstand that kind of battering, and the creature collapsed, blood leaking from its nostrils and jaws. 
    Ridmark looked around for more foes, but for a moment the area around him was clear. The Anathgrimm drove into the stunned and wounded medvarth, cutting them down one after another. Ridmark saw wounded and slain Anathgrimm upon the ground, but far more dead medvarth. They were winning the battle, step by bloody step…
    Then a thunderclap rang out from the midst of the melee, and a dozen Anathgrimm hurtled through the air. They hit the ground with a clang of armor, and Ridmark looked for what had attacked them.
    Two cogitaers glided from the midst of the fight, their gray robes swirling around