The_Complete_Chronicles_of_Narnia_(volumes_1-7,_in_order_of_publication)

calling them to his aid. Tirian and Jewel looked at one another sadly. They had just begun
to hope that they might win that night: but it would be all over with them if new enemies
appeared.
Tirian gazed despairingly round. Several Narnians were standing with the Calormenes,
whether through treachery or in honest fear of "Tashlan". Others were sitting still, staring,
not likely to join either side. But there were fewer animals now: the crowd was much
smaller. Clearly, several of them had just crept quietly away during the fighting.
Boom - boom - ba-ba-boom went the horrible drum. Then another sound began to mix
with it. "Listen!" said Jewel: and then "Look!" said Farsight. A moment later there was
no doubt what it was. With a thunder of hoofs, with tossing heads, widened nostrils, and
waving manes, over a score of Talking Horses of Narnia came charging up the hill. The
gnawers and nibblers had done their work.
Poggin the Dwarf and the children opened their mouths to cheer but that cheer never
came. Suddenly the air was full of the sound of twanging bow-strings and hissing arrows.
It was the Dwarfs who were shooting and - for a moment Jill could hardly believe her
eyes - they were shooting the Horses. Dwarfs are deadly archers. Horse after Horse rolled
over. Not one of those noble Beasts ever reached the King.
"Little Swine," shrieked Eustace, dancing in his rage. "Dirty, filthy, treacherous little
brutes." Even Jewel said, "Shall I run after those Dwarfs, Sire, and spit ten of them on my
horn at each plunge?" But Tirian with his face as stern as stone, said, "Stand fast, Jewel.
If you must weep, sweetheart (this was to Jill), turn your face aside and see you wet not
your bow-string. And peace, Eustace. Do not scold, like a kitchen-girl. No warrior scolds.
Courteous words or else hard knocks are his only language."
But the Dwarfs jeered back at Eustace. "That was a surprise for you, little boy, eh?
Thought we were on your side, did you? No fear. We don't want any Talking Horses. We
don't want you to win any more than the other gang. You can't take us in. The Dwarfs are
for the Dwarfs."
Rishda Tarkaan was still talking to his men, doubtless making arrangements for the next
attack and probably wishing he had sent his whole force into the first. The drum boomed
on. Then, to their horror, Tirian and his friends heard, far fainter as if from a long way
off, an answering drum. Another body of Calormenes had heard Rishda's signal and were
coming to support him. You would not have known from Tirian's face that he had now
given up all hope.
"Listen," he whispered in a matter-of-fact voice, "we must attack now, before yonder
miscreants are strengthened by their friends."
"Bethink you, Sire," said Poggin, "that here we have the good wooden wall of the stable
at our backs. If we advance, shall we not be encircled and get sword-points between our
shoulders?"