Michael Pearce - Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman

“Which reminds me,” the Captain said as he turned to the rangers as a group, “We'll be starting a new protocol tomorrow. You'll still patrol in pairs, but you'll keep a hundred paces between you whenever lines of sight allow. Should you encounter the enemy you are to blow a warning immediately, then attempt to evade.”

“We have found the enemy! It's been nice knowing you all,” quipped one of the rangers. The rest chuckled.

The captain smiled faintly and said, “It's a bad time to be us, but the army cannot sustain these sorts of losses indefinitely. Command has decided that they'd rather risk our butts than get caught flat-footed again.”

“In better news, the 4th Heavy Infantry is joining up with us tomorrow, and in two-three days we should be hooking up with the Eastern Force, consisting of the 1st Rifles, the 3rd and 5th Heavy Infantry, the 4th Mounted Infantry and the 1st Engineers. This will give us near parity in numbers with the Baasgarta force that we are pursuing.”

That was good to hear. If we can catch up to them with that kind of force at our back we'll roll them up, Engvyr thought.

“I'm going to meet with Command now. I suggest that you ladies get your beauty sleep. We've got an early start tomorrow.”

“Taarven, Engvyr, Torvaald, Brekke, you're with me,” Captain Gauer said, gesturing for them to accompany him. The four rangers looked at each other and followed. The other rangers stayed to get their scouting assignments for the day.

The captain led them into the command tent and turned to face them.

“You four have, through skill, determination and sheer, blind luck shown yourselves adept at surviving the worst of situations,” he looked them over for a moment before he continued, “As a result you have been selected for a special mission. We need a better picture of the lands of the Baasgarta. You four are going to get it for us.”

Turning to a table with a map showing the area of the river valley that they had explored thus far, he gesturing to the north he said, “Taarven, you and Engvyr will follow this valley. If there's nothing there hop the ridge into the next valley and keep going. Torvaald, Brekke. You'll do the same from this valley. Try to keep proceeding generally north. The valley that we are currently in seems to curve around in that direction so you might find yourselves ahead of the Baasgarta. If that occurs proceed up the valley ahead of them and see where they are going.”

“What are we looking for, sir?” Brekke asked.

The Captain shrugged and said, “Whatever is there. If you come across one of their 'plantations' make note of its position and carry on. If you find The Pit or a Baasgarta city return to report. Other than that you are map-making. Avoid contact with the enemy, and if you encounter any try to evade deeper into their territory. Any questions?”

“If we find neither The Pit nor a city how far do we go before we come back?”

“Five days out, five days back at the most.”

There were no more questions so the rangers went to make their preparations. Engvyr and Taarven were ready to go by the time the column began to form up. They brought with them a remount each and a pack-pony with supplies for two weeks of travel. Riding out of camp they headed north into the small valley that the captain had designated for them.

They rode cautiously at first, keeping to cover and looking for any signs of Baasgarta activity. They kept to the wooded slope of the valley, frequently cutting across to the other side to look for tracks or other signs. They found no evidence of a goblin presence so when the ground began to climb they crested the ridge into the next valley and found activity almost immediately. There was a small lake with a low stone house and several hovels on the shore. From their height they could see dozens of Braell along the shore working at some task that they couldn't make out at this distance, and several of the Baasgarta watching over them.

“Fishing or crawfishing at a guess,” Engvyr said, lowering the spyglass. Taarven nodded. They stayed high on the slope as they bypassed the outpost and continued north. By evening they had reached the point where their valley spilled out into a larger river-valley. Unless it doubled back on itself rather abruptly they guessed that this was not the same one the Baasgarta forces were fleeing along. This larger basin was under cultivation with many of the Braell just coming in from the fields. They watched through their spyglasses as the dwarves were herded into low structures, apparently just a peaked roof set on poles only a couple of feet off the ground. The poles were set too closely for any of them to slip out, and a barred gate closed them in for the night. A thread of smoke issued from under the roof at either end. At a guess there was enough room to stand only at the center of the structure. The Baasgarta posted no guards on the building and retreated into another of the low-roofed stone houses that they appeared to favor.

As it grew dark lights came on in the windows, and a short time later they could hear a thread of music drifting to them on the light breeze. Moving off the rangers found a hollow in the side of the valley where they dared a small fire for their dinner and coffee.

“It's funny,” Taarven said, “But it never occurred to me that they'd play music.”

Engvyr nodded and said, “I know what you mean. We don't think of them as being like us, reading or dancing or courting but when it comes down to it I suppose that a lot of them are just folks.”

“Just folks that have kept our people enslaved since the time of the Maker,” Taarven reminded him. Engvyr shrugged.

“Sure and that's true, but they still have to do the same sort of things as any folk,” Engvyr said, “Likely they're like most people, some good and some bad. They just live in a culture that says it's ok to keep dwarves as slaves. It's the culture that's evil, the individuals mostly just don't know any better.

Doesn't make them any less our enemies. It's a thing to think on after the war.”

Taarven poked at the tiny fire with a stick and said, “Which begs the question of what happens to all of these 'folks' when the war is over?”

Engvyr shrugged again.

“I honestly don't know. Fortunately that will be someone else's problem.”

“You dearly hope,” said Taarven with a wicked grin, “ Lord Eastgrove.”

Engvyr reached out and casually shoved the other ranger. Taarven, crouched by the fire, had to flail to keep his balance, duck-walking sideways. He snickered and Engvyr glared at him.

“Don't you start that 'Lord' business with me! I've been your partner too long… I might just start to 'reminisce' with Ynghilda some evening…”

Taarven assumed a look of offended innocence and said, with mock-righteous indignation, “I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about! M'Lady and I have no secrets between us.”

“So she knows about that barmaid over in Sgeggisdale? The fat one?”

“That was one time, and I was drunk!” Taarven said, then looked at him reproachfully and admitted, “So maybe a fella needs to have some secrets…”

At first light they crossed the valley to the opposite slope and picked their way along under the trees. They saw other plantations and many Braell working under the watchful eyes of their masters. A road paralleled the river connecting the farms, and as the day went on the land below the slopes became more and more densely populated. They had to move more carefully now, as they came across evidence of logging and other activity in the forest. They dismounted to skirt these areas, one of them leading the ponies and the other scouting ahead, creeping from cover to cover.

Engvyr was scouting along the edge of a clearing when he literally ran into one of the Baasgarta. He rounded a large old-growth fir and a startled goblin rose and turned to face him, dropping his basket of mushrooms. Unlike the goblin Engvyr was primed for the encounter and struck immediately. He felt the iron-shod butt of his rifle crunch into the Baasgarta's temple with sickening finality. The mushroom-picker dropped like a pole-axed steer.