Michael Pearce - Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman

If it were me leading these goblins, he thought, I'd have an ambush set for me along the road back. There was a joke among the Rangers that went, 'Sure, I'm paranoid… but am I paranoid enough ?'

He cut off the road and retraced their steps from the previous day, going down Goren's Creek for some distance before taking to the hills. He picked his way through the forest below the ridge-line then cut back down to a ravine that paralleled the road, keeping a sharp eye out the whole way. He circled the edge of the valley and approached the steading from the south as the sun was going down.

Rather than caring for his own pony he left it with Ynghilda's groom and went into the Great Hall. Ynghilda and Taarven were talking by the fire and they looked up as he entered.

“Supper's past but there's bread, cheese and some sausage,” Ynghilda told him, gesturing to one of her people who vanished into the kitchen. Then she looked at him sharply, “Engvyr?”

He told them about what he had found and concluded, “You're going to want to put your people on alert, Ma'am.”

Taarven shook his head, “Hell of a time for me to be laid-up.”

Ynghilda looked thoughtful and said, “I can put people on their guard and set up some patrols, but we can't afford to pull folks into the palisade, not with the crops in and folks starting to move their livestock up into the hills to graze.”

Someone put a plate in front of him and he looked up to thank them. It was Deandra, and she looked worried. He must have looked surprised because she gave him a crooked smile.

“Figured since we're here I might as well lend a hand,” she said.

He returned her smile with a half-smile of his own and a nod of thanks. Deandra poured him some coffee as he tucked into the food.

Ynghilda moved around the hall speaking to several of her folk, and each one she spoke to departed in a hurry. He was almost done when she returned.

“Well, word's going out,” She told him, then asked, “What's next?”

Taarven snorted and said, “Knowing Eng as I do, I'd say the next thing is he finishes eating, grabs our remounts and rides like hell for the Station.”

“Sounds about right,” Engvyr said as he finished the last bite and scrubbed his hands with a rough cloth napkin. Ynghilda laid a hand on his shoulder as he started to rise.

“You should rest, Eng. I can send a rider in the morning with your report.”

He patted her hand and got up anyway.

“I appreciate that, Ma'am, and meaning no offense to your riders but this news can't wait. With a fresh pony and two remounts I'll get there far faster than they could manage.”

“I can send someone with you…?”

He shook his head, already heading for the door to the stables.

“Thank you ma'am, but they'd just slow me down.”

She watched him go and shook her head.

“Stubborn, that one.”

Taarven shook his head and said, “No ma'am, he isn't. He just knows what needs to be done and is damn sure going see to it.”

Ynghilda's was not the only set of worried eyes that followed him out of the room.

– **-

Engvyr entered the stable and walked straight to his remount. The groom hurried over as he saddled the pony.

“Sir? Is there something I can do?”

Engvyr pulled the cinch tight and looked at the groom. “You want to put a saddle on my partner's mount and spare?” he asked, pointing to Taarven's ponies. The groom nodded and hurried away to do as he was bid.

Finished with his own pony's tack he turned to grab his partner's saddle to help. Ten minutes later he was leading the three saddled ponies out into the yard of the palisade. Deandra met him outside the stable and handed him a bundle.

“Some biscuits, cheese, bacon and a water-skin,” she told him.

“Much obliged,” he said as he turned to stow the bundle in his saddle-bag.

“You ride safe,” She told him, her brow creased in a worried frown as he swung into the saddle. He touched the brim of his hat in reply and rode out.

Engvyr kicked his pony into a trot as he headed for the Ghost Creek Station of the Mountain Guard. By the most direct route it was normally a two-day ride, but he was planning to do it a mite faster. He looked and listened as he rode but more importantly he watched the pony. If something was amiss the animal was apt to notice it before he did.

He didn't consider it likely that there was trouble on the trail ahead, and if any was coming along behind, his best defense was to outdistance it. That didn't mean that he planned to let his guard down, though.

He alternated walking, trotting and cantering all night long, stopping just long enough to change ponies. He ate and drank as he traveled, stopping occasionally to cut a certain mark into the trunk of a tree, just at eye level, with a few quick strokes of his Wood-Knife, a broad, single-edged shortsword that most rangers carried strapped to their saddle as both a tool and weapon.

By dawn he was dozing fitfully in the saddle despite his best efforts to stay awake. Fortunately this was one route his mounts knew by heart. They were unlikely to stray off-course because they also knew that a rubdown and a warm stall were waiting for them at the end of it.

He woke up and stopped long enough to brew some coffee, water the horses and give them a ration of grain before he continued. An hour after noon he was dismounting and handing off the reins of the ponies to a stable hand at the Station. His abrupt arrival started a mild commotion. The Rangers all knew that a rider arriving on a string of worn-out ponies meant trouble. He walked straight across the station and into the Captain's office.

The rider from Ynghilda's stead was actually still standing to one side of the room drinking a cup of coffee while he chatted with a couple of Rangers. He looked up as Engvyr entered and his eyes bugged half out of his head.

“Lord and Lady, Engvyr! What the hell are you doing here?” he exclaimed, “And how did you get here so fast?”

Captain Gauer looked up from the report he was reading- Engvyr's report- without so much as a flutter of surprise. He set the report aside.

“This can't be good news. Sit down,” Turning to the other two he said, “Horrek, Gerryl, get this man some food and coffee. Bring the pot.”

Looking back at Engvyr he said, “Alright, Ranger. Tell me about it.”

It was after dark when Engvyr woke and rolled out of his bunk. The station was alight with torches and people were bustling around despite the hour. I guess I really kicked a hornet's nest this time, he thought.

The meeting with the Captain had gone on for some time before he was able to get away and sack out. As it turned out similar reports had been coming in from all across the northern frontier. Even before he left the Captain's office, riders were heading out to call in the patrols.

He guessed that under the circumstances there might be some hot food available in the Great Hall and he wasn't wrong. He sat down with a bowl of stew and a thick chunk of black bread and set to it. He wasn't half finished before someone plunked their own bowl down across the table from him and sat heavily on the bench opposite. He looked up to see Captain Gauer shoveling stew into his mouth. He nodded to him and kept eating. Finishing his meal, he sat sipping his mug of cider while his superior ate.

The Captain finished his food, pushed back from the table as he loaded his pipe, and lit it. When it was drawing well he looked at Engvyr through a wreath of smoke.

“Best rest up tonight, Ranger. You're heading out in the morning, back to the Makepeace Steading. You'll be advising them on reinforcing their defenses and doing some scouting of the country beyond the Eyrie.”