The Revenge of the Dwarves
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Though hailed a hero by his people, the course of life has not run smooth for the battle-weary Tungdil the dwarf. But there is no rest for this warrior yet - as he must now find the strength to face the most formidable enemy the kingdom has ever encountered . . .
A new evil has risen from the depths of the earth to terrorize the land of Girdlegard. Monstrous creatures - half-orc, half-älfar - are roaming the kingdom, leaving a trail of death and destruction in their wake. These merciless hybrids are on a mission to obtain the most powerful weapon known to the dwarf race - and whoever holds this weapon will control the world.
Then when the fossilized Magus Lot-Ionan is stolen, Tungdil spies total disaster on the horizon. With the very existence of the dwarves under threat, he will have to resort to his trusty double ax and risk everything he knows to save his country from annihilation . . .
Hold your breath for THE REVENGE OF THE DWARVES, the next thrilling installment in this spectacular fantasy epic from international bestselling author Markus Heitz
club. He left it up to the fire, the hammer and the skill of his hands to form something completely new without a specific design. The metal must be an alloy he had not met before. He could hear as much from the sound it made; it sang in response to his forging. It had incredible stability, long refusing to give up its original shape to take on another. It was an age since he had been given such a challenge at the anvil. Hasty footsteps came splashing through puddles and over the wet
artifact reject Lot-Ionan?” “Well, if anyone is pure in spirit then it has to be Lot-Ionan,” said Goda springing to the defense of the magus. “And who expects a magus to sacrifice his life to chastity? I’m sure he doesn’t get up to anything like that now, but I’m sure he remembers what he did when he was younger…” She took his hand. “He is good.” Ireheart was thinking. “Yes, you’re right.” He let himself be persuaded. Then his face took on a worried expression. “You know what this means for our
Vraccas’ name!” At last he could see again: behind the force wall stood a range of monsters brandishing weapons! “Oh, you fiendish…” Most were like the creature that had been cut in half; but there were others, significantly broader in the beam, much stronger and of intimidating appearance. No terror dream could have come up with better. “By Vraccas,” Ireheart breathed, bereft. His friend had not come, after all. He issued brisk orders to the ubariu, telling them to spread out in front of the
suggestions in all things during the daylight hours. Boldly he marched straight past Tiwalún to inspect the three-cornered monolith. “The eye of a stone-expert is called for here,” he announced. “My people are renowned as excellent stonemasons.” The elf swiftly overtook him and walked backwards in his path, shielding the object from his view. “No, Boïndil Doubleblade. I would ask you not to do that. It is a holy and revered object that may only be touched by us elves. You should not have been
be so! It would mean the gate was open and their uninvited guest already inside the vaults! They turned round a corner and saw that the double gate had been destroyed; it lay in pieces on the ground. “Has he got a battering ram?” whispered Boïndil, looking around. There were any number of openings in the tunnel they were in. The enemy might jump out at them from any of these. “If it’s one of those monsters, it won’t need a battering ram,” replied Tungdil. He listened intently. There was