Michael Pearce - Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman

“Anyway, the Eastern Force should be arriving tomorrow. The engineers will have some thoughts about taking this place down quickly. Get some food and shut eye; siege-work isn't a job for Rangers, but I'm pretty sure that we'll be able to find something for you boys to do tomorrow.”

That proved true, as the two rangers discovered at first light.

“Gear up, boys,” The Captain shouted, waking the sleeping rangers, “The Baasgarta are on the move. Let's go!”

They rolled off their cots and dressed for action. Rather than repairing to the mess tent bowls of stew were brought to them as they dressed, so they sat on their bunks and shoveled it down as the Captain addressed them.

“The Baasgarta forces are assembling inside their defensive works. It looks very much like they intend to meet us on the field. Since by now they have to be aware of what a very, very bad idea that is, either they are suicidally desperate or they have something up their sleeves. Anyone care to place a bet as to which it is?” he asked rhetorically, “Right. Me neither.

“So what we are going to do is have a look up their sleeves, so to speak. Taarven and Engvyr, you'll go up the northwest side of the main river valley. Sergar and Gimli, you'll go up the east side. The rest of you will follow behind and peel off to check out the branch valleys, half on each side. Settle that among yourselves but let me know.”

“When do we pull out, captain?” Gimli asked.

The Captain gave him a flat look and said, “I have people saddling your ponies and seeing to your packs as we speak. Does that answer your question?”

The rangers ate faster as he continued, “Two days travel out, then straight back as fast as you can. Naturally if you find a surprise get back and let us know.”

“What about the southern approaches, Captain?” Engvyr asked.

“The army is going to cover that. Time to get moving, people!”

There was an increasing clamor building up from outside, soldiers rushing here and there in ordered chaos. From the sound of things the Baasgarta weren't going to keep the Dwarven forces waiting for long.

By the time the rangers were mounted and moving the battle had been joined. Baasgarta were pushing forward behind metal pavises and engaging the dwarves with their heavy crossbows as they advanced. The dwarves actually had a tactic to deal with this; there was a practical upper limit to the weight of a shield that could be maneuvered effectively in these circumstances. Each company would focus its volleys on a single shield. With each volley three pounds of lead would slam into each shield every two seconds. Often the shock of this would tear the shield out of the carrier's hands and the next volley would slam into the gap before the shield could be righted. Either that or the expert fire focused on the center of the shield would simply hammer its way through the metal after enough volleys struck. Then the company would shift fire to another shield. It was effective but relatively slow, and in the meantime the crossbows were producing casualties on the dwarves’ side despite their own wooden pavises.

The Baasgarta were pressing outward on a wide front, with a large reserve waiting near the gates to move out to exploit any weaknesses in the dwarven lines. As the sun rose the two armies were fully engaged, hammering at each other with the Baasgarta slowly creeping towards the dwarven lines.

The rangers skirted the outer edge of the conflict and headed north, riding through the abandoned plantations. Not far beyond the battle they came to a bridge over the river and half the riders peeled off and headed for the eastern side of the valley. Taarven and Engvyr's group rode through the plantations to the wooded slope and moved along the edge of the forest.

Within a league the first valley branched off to the west and a pair of rangers peeled off to check it out while the rest forded the stream that flowed down to join the river. They had only gone a few hundred yards when a horn sounded behind them. They pulled up and glanced at each other as the horn sounded again. They looked back and within moments the two rangers shot out of the mouth of the branch valley and rode hell for leather to the south, blowing frantically on their horns. Seconds later Baasgarta cavalry boiled out of the opening and charged after them.

Engvyr swore softly as the mounted goblins poured out into the valley, thousands of them bearing down on the rear of the dwarven army only a few thousand paces away.

“Well, that's one sleeve accounted for,” Taarven commented.

“So, do we head back?” Engvyr asked uncertainly.

“There’s still another sleeve to look up, I think,” Taarven said.

“Looks like we won't have to wait for that one either,” one of the other rangers said pointing north.

They turned in their saddles to see infantry spilling out of the next branch valley a half-league ahead and turn towards them. The rangers watched and rank after rank of Baasgarta emerged. So far the cavalry, several thousand strong, were ignoring them and heading south, but with the goblins bearing down on them from the other direction they couldn't stay where they were for long. By the time a third regiment marched into sight it was time to go.

“Follow me!” Taarven told them, and bolted for the river. They rode after him, heading not for the bridge but for a calm section where their ponies could ford the river. As they plunged into the icy water the lead for the pack pony came loose. One of the other rangers downstream made a grab for it but Engvyr yelled for him to leave it. Likely the beast could fend for itself well enough. Lunging up the west bank they turned south and spurred their ponies to a gallop. Engvyr was able to see some of the action around the city as they approached. The dwarves on the northern flank of the siege were turning to engage the cavalry and hammered them with volley after volley. Hundreds of the mounted goblins and their ulvgaed went down with each crash of the slug guns, but thousands more came on.

It would have been a massacre if the dwarves did not, out of habit, build their siege-works to account for enemies at their rear. Instead of slamming into the spike covered berms the cavalry force wheeled aside, racing along the fortifications. The gunners took a horrible toll on them, but each cavalryman had a light repeating crossbow and as they passed along the dwarven lines they emptied them as fast as they could fire before wheeling away to reload. The light, un-aimed quarrels individually weren't much to worry about, but the dwarven gunners were showered with them and inevitably, by blind luck and sheer weight of numbers, they were having an effect.

If the cavalry can take the beating long enough, Engvyr thought, then they can peel away just as their infantry arrives to hit the earthworks. That's going to get ugly in a hurry…

Once they were well clear of the battle with the cavalry, the rangers turned and forded the river and rode into the dwarven camp, right up to the canopy where the dwarven commanders were directing the battle, shouting to alert them to the approaching infantry.

The commanders immediately dispatched two of the rangers to get the supply train to move south, away from the battle on the flank. Two more were sent to the infantry to the north with instructions to reorient the defensive works to face the flank attack. Engvyr and Taarven were sent to find the commander of the 4th Heavy Infantry, the unit the cavalry was engaging, and tell them to prepare to pull back.

They rode their sweating ponies across the camp and dismounted, leaving them. They jogged between the berms and into the trenches, working their way towards the fight. Before they got to their destination they had to borrow shields to hold overhead against the rain of quarrels. Engvyr and Taarven found the commanders in a dugout crudely roofed with logs and gave them the order to begin pulling back.