Michael Pearce - Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman

Engvyr watched as the commanders of the regiments stood at the lip of the pit talking quietly as darkness fell. The soldiers were setting up hasty camps nearby. They weren't digging in for the night as it was uncertain as to whether or not they would be staying, but it was a good opportunity for the troops to rest and have a hot meal. Engvyr and Taarven had little stomach for food after seeing the hundreds of dead in the pit.

The army had enough people schooled in the Old Tongue that they were able to speak with the slaves after a fashion. They told them that a massive sarcophagus had been unearthed that very morning. The Baasgarta had removed the contents and the bulk of them had departed, taking just enough of the slaves to carry the burden. A small contingent had been left to 'deal with' the remaining Braell.

The dwarves had sent the survivors back to their own crude shelters for the night. In a way their response to the rescue sickened him as much as the pile of bodies in the pit. As far as the pit-slaves were concerned Engvyr and the other dwarves were their new masters. They simply obeyed them without question. When the regiments arrived they had delivered food to the Braell and they had to order them to eat it.

The group on the edge of the pit broke up and Berryc walked over to join the two rangers.

“Looks like we're moving out at first light,” he told them, shaking his head. “What a mess…”

“Where are we going?” asked Taarven.

“We're going to be pursuing the Baasgarta that pulled out this morning. Whatever they found in that sarcophagus down there,” Berryc responded with a wave at the pit, “was important enough for them to start a war over so most likely we don't want them to have it. We're going to go take it back.”

“That makes sense, I suppose,” said Engvyr, “And the slaves?”

Berryc shrugged.

“The 3rd is going to leave a platoon to tend to 'em. They'll put them to work burying the bodies and make sure that they're safe and fed. For now as far as they're concerned they are our slaves, and the easiest way to take care of them is to let them go right on thinking that until we can introduce them to the fact that they are free gradually.”

“I can hardly imagine what's to become of them,” Engvyr said, shaking his head.

“I suppose folk will take them in,” Berryc replied, “Eventually. What worries me a lot more is that once we kick the Baasgarta's butts we're going to face this problem magnified a thousand-fold. There are probably tens of thousands of dwarves in their lands.”

“That sounds to me like a problem that is above my pay-grade,” said Engvyr.

“What concerns me rather more,” Taarven said wryly, “Is the question of whether or not we can, as Berryc so elegantly put it, 'kick the Baasgarta's butts.'”

“I dunno,” Engvyr said thoughtfully, “but from what we've seen so far I'm guessing that we can. For all that they are ferocious and fanatically determined they aren't actually very good at these large-unit actions. In the end they'd have to have us massively outnumbered to defeat us.”

“That's as may be,” allowed Taarven, “but for all we know they do massively outnumber us, and they could have other tricks up their sleeves.”

“Regardless, we've got it to do sooner or later,” Berryc told them, “And as we're starting early you boys had best get some sleep if you can.”

Engvyr and Taarven were actually up before first light, having a hot breakfast and coffee. They set out on the trail of the goblins and their mysterious cargo. The rangers would scout ahead while the skirmishers followed along behind attempting to delay the Baasgarta until the main body of their forces could move up.

“Hopefully they'll be expecting their own regiments to be coming along behind,” Berryc told them as they made ready to depart, “If'n they got word we're coming they could make things pretty difficult for us.”

“That they could,” Taarven agreed, “There's a thousand places in these mountains where a small force could hold up our regiments for days.”

They swung into their saddles and headed north moving quickly as they had a lot of time to make up. They had no fear of losing the trail as there was nothing tricky about following a few hundred goblins.

By mid-day they found the first dead dwarven slave by the trail. He was an older fellow and at a guess had trouble keeping up. They'd simply slit his throat and pushed him off of the path. As skinny and wasted as his corpse was Engvyr didn't wonder that they had not bothered to butcher him for meat.

The goblins were pressing on hard. They pursued them throughout the long afternoon and well into the night before stopping themselves. They made a cold camp and were on their way again before first light. At dawn they found where the goblins had stopped for several hours. The Baasgarta had apparently been in a celebratory mood and the rangers were sickened by the evidence of the feast that they had left behind.

“I guess they took more slaves than they needed to carry the artifact,” Taarven observed. Engvyr nodded, feeling heartsick and enraged for their distant kin. There will be a reckoning, he promised the pitiful remains silently. They pressed on, now only scant hours behind their quarry. The trail narrowed, passing into a gully, and they paused.

“Looks like a great place for an ambush,” Engvyr commented.

“Or to wait for your friends to catch up,” Taarven said, “Either way I don't think that we want to ride up and just see what happens.”

Signaling the others to wait, they cut off the trail and worked their way along below the crest of the ridge line until they could see down into the gully. Sure enough, the Baasgarta were there in company strength, positioned to ambush anyone that came along.

“I'll keep watch here,” Taarven said quietly in Engvyr's ear, “You let the skirmishers know about these boys.”

Engvyr nodded and backed carefully away from their viewpoint. Making his way to the ponies he mounted and began to ride back down the trail left by the Baasgarta. The simplest way to find the skirmisher's…

“Halt!” came the command from the undergrowth alongside the trail.

…was to let them find him. One of the soldiers came out to speak with him and he quickly described what they had found. Others came out of hiding as well to listen. In the end a full company followed him north to ambush the ambushers.

They quietly rejoined Taarven, then the rangers and half of the skirmishers slowly worked their way past the Baasgarta. When they were certain they were clear of the goblin's sentry-line they moved back to the trail and set an ambush of their own. Soon they heard the troops on the hillside open up, firing down on the Baasgarta from above. The quieter slams of the goblin's crossbows answered and before long they could see the enemy retreating towards them, their full attention focused on the force above. The skirmishers that were lying in ambush on the trail took them from behind in a deadly crossfire. The goblins were unable to shelter from the fire of both forces at once and it was over in minutes.

“Neatly done,” Engvyr complimented the company commander afterwards while they waited for one of the soldiers to bring their ponies up from where they had hidden them.

“Worked a treat,” the commander agreed, “Except for the part where we lost two hours taking care of this bunch. We're that much further behind the Baasgarta and only an hour or so ahead of the regiments.”

“One more delay like this and our chances of catching up with the Baasgarta go from 'slim' to 'none,'” Taarven observed, “Not to mention that as soon as this bunch realizes we're coming up behind 'em we're likely to bite into something a lot tougher to chew up than these boys were.”