Ralph and the Pixie

He became conscious that he was breathing heavily with fear, a fact that he couldn’t conceal. Venturing a glance up and down the line, he saw the vapour from the others’ breath, and relaxed fractionally, realizing that he was not alone in his trepidation. Noting, with a mixture of awe and annoyance, Gannet’s deep and regular breathing, he unconsciously tried to match the big Elf’s composure.

The ghost of a movement through the snow and mist struck him like ice-water, sharpening his senses and tightening his gut with fear. There was no mistake: the enemy began to rise up out of the gloom, a great black wave that was growing, cresting towards their position, becoming darker and clearer with each thudding heartbeat.

The moment he could make out distinct shapes, the advancing line seemed to fall to the ground. Behind them, lines of archers instantly formed-

‘Heads down!’

The air was suddenly full of the whistle and thup of arrows. A few strangled cries belied that some of the missiles had found a mark. Several of the black darts thudded squarely against Ralph’s shield; one grazed the top of his helmet, making him duck even lower.

At once, there came a great roar of Goblin voices that hit the defenders like a physical blow, resonating off their swords, shields, and helms, and amplified in rolling, thundering waves off the valley walls.