Michael Pearce - Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman

Pop Pop Pop Pop Pop!

Somehow the distant gunners were firing a shot every second. The effect on the Baasgarta was devastating. The ranks kept leapfrogging forward, firing constantly and the Baasgarta melted away before them. The sound of distant screams came to them as the goblin casualties writhed on the ground until the advancing troops bayonetted them before continuing to advance.

“What the bloody hell?”

Engvyr wasn't sure who had said it but it summed up their collective feelings nicely. The strange battalion cut between the 4th and the Baasgarta, driving the enemy back and dropping to assume defensive positions. For the moment it appeared the flank was secure.

They all looked at each other in bafflement and Engvyr figured he and Taarven would be heading for the flank momentarily when they were hailed from the rear.

Turning to look they saw two baffled and very nervous looking skirmishers escorting a figure in the blue and red uniform of the unknown force between them. He carried a long-gun unlike anything they'd seen before and had a falchion belted at his waist. As he approached it was also obvious that he was a…

“Goblin?!” squeaked one of the aids in disbelief.

The goblin strode nonchalantly under the awning, nodded dismissal to his escort and looked around curiously. Spotting Engvyr he grinned and the ranger suddenly recognized him. He stared in disbelief as the goblin approached, bowed slightly and straightened before speaking.

“I see you, Engvyr Gunnarson Falkevellklan,” he said, clasping forearms with the stunned ranger, “I am Captain Grimnael Killraven, lately of the Southern Tribes Allied Forces and I am at your service.”

When Engvyr mastered his shock well enough to speak he said, “Good to see you again, old friend. I see that your Common speech continues to improve.”

The Goblin shrugged and said, “It seemed that clear communication might be important. I also have brought some things of yours that fell into my people's hands, but for the moment that must wait. There are urgent matters to address; if I may send word to my people they will bring one who can explain.”

Engvyr glanced quickly at the gathered commanders, who were still too shocked to respond one way or another. Turning back to the goblin he said, “Of course.”

Grimnael turned to one of the skirmishers and, as if he had an unquestioned right to do so, ordered, “Go to the place you found me and blink a lantern three times. Three goblins will join you; bring them to us.”

The skirmisher looked around for confirmation and Engvyr nodded. The soldier departed.

Someone cleared their throat and he turned. Colonel Oakes said, “Ranger Engvyr, perhaps you would be so good as to introduce your, er, friend?”

Engvyr hesitated, not knowing quite how to introduce the goblin, but Grimnael rescued him by speaking.

“Normally it is the habit of our people to give our names only as a sign of great trust, but under the circumstances it is needed. I am Grimnael Killraven and I am the local commander of the Southern Tribes military forces. My official rank is Commander.”

The Dwarven commander bowed formally to him.

“We thank you for your timely intervention,” He said. Turning to Taarven he ordered, “I need you to go directly to the 4th's commanders and inform them to give our 'allies' their full cooperation and support.”

Turning back to Grimnael he said, “Not to look a gift-horse in the mouth, but how do you come to be here? We had no idea that you would help or had such… well-armed and disciplined units that might come to our assistance. Nor that you possessed guns, frankly.”

The goblin shook his head and said, “You dwarves! We make the finest clocks and mechanisms in the world! You think maybe we do this in caves? With rocks and twigs?”

Grimnael gestured with the gun he carried and said, “Is bellows and spring hooked to blow-gun. This is hard? But as to how we came to be here you may thank my friend, who spoke to me of the Baasgarta, and gave his name to insure belief. I took this news to our elders. Then other things happen, and the elders understood the threat. Because I am known among my people and yours they placed me in charge. We wish to show you we are not as they, these Baasgarta. What better way to show this than to help you, yes?”

The Colonel grinned and said, “I suppose so; certainly I’m not inclined to question your intentions after you have so handily saved our skins! Have you brought other forces as well?”

Grimnael nodded and said, “We have brought more, yes. For now I think maybe we hold those in reserve?”

The Dwarven commander looked around, catching the eyes of the command staff who suddenly decided that they had things to do.

“Things seem to have stabilized for the moment,” He said, “And we are expecting reinforcements before too long. Perhaps you will join us?”

He gestured to the map table and Grimnael joined the dwarven commanders there, looking over the map while they explained the layout of their defenses and the situation to him. Having no instructions to the contrary Engvyr joined them.

Shortly the skirmisher returned with the three goblins that he had been sent to retrieve. Two were uniformed like their commander. The other was in civilian dress, including a face-scarf and broad-brimmed hat. The civilian bore no weapons, not even a small eating knife.

“Ah good,” Grimnael said, and introduced them, “This is my Assistant. His rank is Leftenant and you may address him by his rank.”

Turning to the other uniformed goblin he said, “This is my… Your rank is 'Sergeant-Major.' You may call him 'Sergeant.'”

Indicating the final goblin he said, “And this is Kruger.”

The final goblin removed his hat and face-scarf, revealing his facial tattoos and hair tightly braided with beads and small bones. Several of the dwarves recoiled as the Baasgarta revealed himself, but Grimnael held up a hand to forestall any hasty action.

“Kruger will harm no one!” the goblin said, “He is… your word is what? A 'dissident?' He does not believe in The Dreamer, and wishes to tell you what he has told us. He is the other part of the reason that we are here.”

The dwarven commander gestured for them to join him and moved to one side. The others continued their work, though not without casting an occasional glance at the Baasgarta in their midst. Oakes favored the tattooed goblin with a flat look and said, “Well?”

The Baasgarta spoke, with Grimnael translating.

“Know this,” Kruger began, “I am yet your enemy in all things but this matter, which is more important by far than our war.”

“Fair enough,” Oakes said in a hard, quiet voice, “Go on then.”

“Many years ago in the digging of this city-in-the-mountain, a thing was found. The corpse of a great, strange creature. Its flesh- or what passes for its flesh- was uncorrupted by time. It was considered a great curiosity, but we knew not what it was, and eventually it was sealed away, forgotten. Then a young man of our people broke the seal and went to see this eldritch wonder, and afterwards he began to dream. In his dreams he was told that the corpse was of an ancient god from the Time Before Time, when people who were not men walked this world. The young man became known as The Dreamer, and he became powerful among our people, for wisdom was granted him in his dreams. Wisdom that was of great help to our people.”

Engvyr felt a chill run up and down his spine… he had heard of these beings before and the memory of those times was not a comfortable one. The Baasgarta continued.