Michael Pearce - Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman

It was well after dark when Deandra made it to the refugee camp. The 3rd Rifles had left their tents in place, taking only their individual tarps for shelter in the earthworks they were constructing to guard the mouth of the pass. This camp was much like the ones that the 2nd Battalion had built near the palisade, only on a vastly larger scale. The terrain did not allow for the neat squares but the similarity was obvious. Row after row of five-man tents, communal mess tents and hospital tents covered most of the available space in the high, narrow valley south of the pass. The area had enough room to accommodate the survivors from the refugee column, especially after the cavalry attack.

A family of miners had a largish hame about a league from the summit with three sets of apartments off of the large common room. The residents had crowded into two of the apartments and generously offered up the common room and third apartment for Ynghilda to use as a command center. She had left word for Deandra to join her there.

As Deandra made her way through the encampment she could hear the quiet sounds of grief as the refugees mourned their dead. Occasionally an argument broke out around her as people debated who would occupy which tents. As she passed a mess tent she could see that the regiment had left their cooks as well, for they bustled about inside even at this hour. The smell of food and baking bread wafted out through the open side flaps. A growling stomach reminded her that she hadn't eaten since before dawn but she did not stop. She feared that if she did she would not be able to continue after.

At length she arrived at the hame. A stream of people were constantly coming and going through the doorway. She squeezed past them and found a quiet corner to set down her things. Ynghilda was busy speaking to people, issuing orders, settling disputes. She looks as tired as I feel , Deandra thought. The older woman glanced over and caught her eye, nodding in greeting. She waved back weakly.

Someone brought her a bowl of soup from the large cauldron warming at the hearth and she ate greedily. She was polishing the bowl with a piece of bread when Ynghilda approached.

“What news?” Ynghilda asked.

“Well, I can tell what I heard while I was tending the wounded,” Deandra said, “Apparently the 3rd Rifles and the 1st Mounted Infantry caught the Baasgarta between them. It was nearly a massacre.”

“The 1st Mounted Infantry? Where did they come from?” asked Ynghilda.

Deandra shrugged, and said, “They say that they came in from the east and cut the Baasgarta off once they were in the pass. I gather that the Baasgarta would have been wiped out if another two regiments of goblins hadn't come along. They had to let the trapped ones break out so that the 1st and 3rd could join-up to face the new force. They're digging in now with the enemy doing the same opposite them.”

“And 2nd Battalion?” the older woman asked, with concern that Deandra understood too well. Over the months that they had been stationed in the Makepeace Valley the soldiers of the 2nd Battalion of the 4th Heavy Infantry had become 'their' soldiers.

Deandra’s face fell.

“Casualties were very heavy. The rest of the regiment is moving up to reinforce us, they say. The 2nd's remaining troops will probably be dispersed to other units.”

“And the Major?” Ynghilda asked.

“Injured, but they expect that he will live,” Deandra said.

“Well, that's something at least,” Ynghilda said, then looked at her with concern, “You're just about falling over where you sit, child. The bedroom on the right is empty. Get yourself some sleep. If Engvyr shows up I'll send him along.”

It took no persuading for Deandra to do as she was told, though she did remind the older woman that she needed sleep as well. Ynghilda acknowledged this but shooed her away and returned to work.

– **-

In the days that followed the Battle of Cougar Creek Pass Deandra found herself falling into the role of Ynghilda's assistant and second in command. No one ever officially designated her as such; she just took on the role because it needed to be done and everyone, Ynghilda included, accepted it.

Engvyr was running messages to and from Ghost Creek Station so she needed to fill her time and there was plenty to be done. At first she simply ran errands, fetching people to see Ynghilda or conveying instructions to them. But before long people were stopping her and asking her for advice or decisions on small matters and in no time at all her authority was accepted without question. When she returned to the make-shift command center she would report these decisions to Ynghilda, who simply included them in her own policies and planning.

Despite having the camp ready and waiting for them and the army's superb organization there were still a million details to attend to. Schedules needed to set up for the dining tents, keeping the rows between tents clear, getting supplies distributed to those in need. Honestly, she thought, how could it not occur to people to bring their own blankets?

Then there were the disputes to be settled. Dwarves were not naturally contentious but the stress of their circumstances made them querulous, and when they could not settle things among themselves someone had to arbitrate between them. Deandra comforted herself that any such thing she could settle lightened Ynghilda's work load.

As the days went by the residents slowly settled into their temporary life. The more settled and orderly it became the more the dwarfs were inclined to be reasonable and even charitable with one another, which made things easier for everyone.

Five days after the battle and the mountain still smells like death, Deandra thought. They were standing on a ledge high up the mountain, looking down at the pass and the earthworks at the base. Two regiments of Baasgarta were settled in, blocking access to the valley.

Karrumph! The distant blast echoed off of the hills.

“That was blasting powder. Dammit,” said Ynghilda, “what the hell are they up to?”

“Nothing good,” said Engvyr, “They could be improving the trails to bring in more troops, or blasting down rock to make barracks or fortifications, damming a stream… there's just no way to tell.”

“Well, whatever they're doing they've been going at it for days,” Taarven said.

Deandra could see three farmhames from their perch and all appeared to be intact, at least from this distance.

“Odd,” she mused, “I had thought that they would burn the farmhames and the crops. Isn't that what armies do in a war?”

“Apparently not in this case,” said Ynghilda, “They sent a cavalry patrol through the first night, checking for survivors and perhaps looting. Might be they have plans for those structures.”

“Funny thing is, that's the only activity we've seen, aside from these boys,” Engvyr said, gesturing to the Baasgarta earthworks. “I expected they would reinforce them by now, or start building a real fortification. We're missing something here. These guys aren't acting like an invading army.”

Deandra was no expert on military matters, but something Engvyr said tickled at her brain.