Michael Pearce - Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman

“What the hell was he doing up here?' He asked.

Ageyra was just getting her pony under control and Engvyr saw the fletching of a crossbow bolt sticking out of her thigh.

“Best you get down so that we can take care of that,” he said. Something tickled at his beard and he looked down to see a bolt sticking out of his own shoulder just inside the joint.

Ageyra said, “Getting down would be problematic. I'm pinned to the saddle. Hang on…”

She drew the knife that she had taken and carefully worked it between her leg and the heavy stirrup leather. Sweat stood out on her brow as she sawed through the bolt just below the head.

Engvyr tried to reload the rifle and found that he couldn't do it one-handed while mounted. He felt other stabs of pain and noted disinterestedly that there was a bolt sticking out of the calf of his leg as well. And another in the saddle bow next to… Another two inches to the left and Deandra and I would have to adopt, he thought. He shoved the irrelevant thought aside.

“Got it,” Ageyra said as she finished cutting through the bolt. He looked up at her just as a nightmare latched onto the throat of her pony and the goblin riding it tackled her right out of the saddle. He heard hoofs on stone and turned to see another of the riders bearing down on him. He had an impression of an elongated mountain goat with thick, curled horns and a long snout full of hooked teeth being ridden by a falchion-wielding Baasgarta. His pony took one look and screamed in fear, threw him and bolted.

He slammed into the ground on his back with a burst of pain that forced a short scream from him and then the goblin's mount was rearing over him, preparing to smash the life out of him with its cloven hooves.

He heard Ageyra scream in rage and a spike of rock slammed up out of the ground, scattering dirt and chips of stone, impaling the beast and its rider both. He blinked in surprise. Turning his head he saw the woman propped up on one hand, the other extended towards the impaled goblin with fury burning in her eyes. The other goblin was sprawled on his back with her knife-hilt standing out of his ribs. Just past the corpse of her pony the other goat-creature was also impaled by a spike. Note to self , he thought with semi-hysterical humor, don't piss off a Stonewright-Battlemage.

Her eyes met his and the fury faded from her gaze. She slumped, gasping for breath.

“Show-off,” he croaked. He tried to move but felt a burst of pain before he fell back against the rock and passed out.

Engvyr woke in a room that he had never seen before. The bed sheets were soaked in sweat and his memory was a confused whirlwind of nightmares and fever-dreams. He felt a warm pressure on his right hand and realized that someone was holding it. Turning his head he saw Deandra seated next to him, smiling.

“About time that you woke up!” she said, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

He tried to speak but it came out as a croak.

Disengaging her hand, she patted his good shoulder.

“My frog prince,” she said with a grin, poured him some water and held the cup to his lips while he drank. When he was done she smiled and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Looks like the fever has broken. You had us worried for a while. You were out of your head for three days.”

He tried to sit up. It hurt like hell but he managed it and Deandra hastily pushed some pillows behind his back to prop him up. He tried again to speak and it worked better this time.

“Marry me,” he said.

“Of course,” she replied as she continued to fuss with things to make him more comfortable.

“Just like that?”

She laughed gaily and kissed him, “Yes, you silly dwarf, just like that.”

He settled back with a sigh and closed his eyes, content. Then a thought occurred to him and his eyes flew open, “Taarven, Ageyra, did they make it?”

“Everyone's fine. Now rest, love, they can tell you all about it later.”

She took his hand again and he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

When next he woke Ynghilda was sitting by his bed. She was not holding his hand.

Noticing that he was awake she said, “Finally! I swear, between you and Taarven I've never seen two lazier Rangers.”

He cleared his throat and said, “Nice to see you too, Ma'am.”

“Well,” she said, “I'll allow as you were kind of a mess when they brought you in.” She went on to cheerfully catalogue his various ills. He'd had two crossbow wounds, a concussion, a sprained back, some cracked ribs and a fever. “Honestly Engvyr, you really have to start being more careful. A little thing like a rear-guard action through unknown territory against a platoon of Baasgarta shouldn't be so traumatic.”

“You're getting quite good at the sarcasm thing, ma'am. You really should make more use of it,” he said. She gave him a gimlet stare then broke into a grin.

“Seriously, how are you feeling?” she asked.

He thought about it for a moment and said, “Like I've been put through a wringer and shaken to get the wrinkles out.”

In truth he was possessed of a post-fever restlessness and energy. He wanted to be up and about, even though he knew that he would tire quickly. Looking around the room he noticed the stone walls, the massive, elaborately carved beams and thick carpets on the floor. The furniture wasn't ornate but was heavily made and of obvious quality.

He said, “Um, where are we exactly?”

“We’re in a guest room in my private apartments.”

He digested that for a minute. “Why?”

She rolled her eyes and said, “Lord and Lady, Engvyr, we couldn't very well have you passed out on a bench in the great hall, could we?”

He pressed her for more details of how Taarven and the others had fared but she would only reassure him that they were all well and to say that they would tell him themselves later.

“Changing the subject, I understand congratulations are in order?”

“Oh, Deandra told you?” he asked

She looked at him askance and said, “No she didn't Engvyr, I was sitting right over there!”

She gestured to a chair not inconspicuously located nearby. She laughed and said, “I guess you only had eyes for her at that moment.”

When Deandra brought in some meat broth he was able to feed himself. He also drank a substantial quantity of water. Afterwards he was dressed in thick wool socks, loose linen pants and a thick robe, then was helped into an overstuffed chair by the fire in the great hall.

Ageyra was there already, a crutch propped next to her, speaking to Master Ranger Berryc, who was Captain Gauer's second in command at Ghost Creek. He greeted them both as Deandra got him settled into his chair. Once she was satisfied as to his comfort she left them to talk among themselves.

“So Berryc, how do you come to be here?” he asked.

“I just arrived, actually,” the Master Ranger said, “We're going to be basing more of our people out of Makepeace Stead. Things are picking up all along the northern frontier. I came to set up the forward station here and coordinate operations with the army.”

“Picking up? How do you mean?”

“There have been several attacks on steadings and clanhames by companies of Baasgarta. So far they've all been turned back,” Berryc said, “But it looks as if they are gearing up for bigger things.”

“Have we seen anything more of these riding-beasts of theirs?” Engvyr asked.

“Nope. Interesting thing is that some of the local trappers have a tale about such a creature called an Ulvgaed, a 'wolf-goat,' but we always thought that was just a myth,” Berryc said, “Our Rangers scouting Baasgarta lands will be taking a close look at any mountain goat tracks they encounter. It should be pretty easy to tell if such a beast is being ridden.”