Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman

They could get up to quite a lot of mischief as it turned out. They rode straight down the trail in the tracks of Taarven and his party, that being the mostly likely avenue for the pursuers to follow. The ponies were some advantage for the two of them but less than one might think. Goblins don't ride but they are past-masters at covering distance on foot. A man with a string of ponies could outdistance them with little trouble. But with only one pony each, the Goblins would catch them eventually… unless they slowed them down a bit.

The trail passed through a narrow gorge and Ageyra suddenly said, “Stop.”

Engvyr pulled up and watched as she laid palm on the rock face, closed her eyes and did… nothing. She just sat there on her pony touching the rock. He was on the verge of impatience when she opened her eyes.

“OK,” she said, then rode forward about fifty paces and turned her pony. “Come over here.”

He did as she asked, curious as to what she intended. She pointed at a spot on the cliff.

“See that shadow by the moss just there?”

He nodded.

“Shoot the point of the shadow. There, at the bottom.”

He looked at her curiously but turned his pony broadside to the spot and raised the rifle. WHACK. The bullet struck chips off of the rock at precisely the point that she had indicated.

“Perfect. Thank you,” she said with a satisfied smile. Then she sat and waited. So did Engvyr. He opened his mouth to speak and she held up a hand.

“Wait for it…”

Suddenly there was a bass creaking from the rock, several sharp reports and a cloud of dust rose from the mountainside. Then with a rumble and a groan, more felt than heard, a massive slab of granite slid slowly down the face of the mountain and slammed into the trail. It moved a total of about ten feet but when it hit the ground it felt like the impact bounced his ponies hooves clear off the ground.

After they got their frightened mounts back under control Engvyr looked back up the trail, peering through the dust. A house-cat might have gotten past the slab but surely nothing bigger could. The rock, a hundred tons or more of solid granite, completely blocked the trail.

“That should give us a bit of time,” she said and turned her pony and rode on. Engvyr felt he could forgive that her smile was a little smug, but unfortunately he had to wipe it off her face.

“Yep,” he said, “They'll never get through that. So they'll leave this trail… the one place where we knew that they'd be.”

She stopped and looked at him a moment while she worked through the implications. He knew that she got it when she started to swear.

He continued, “We needed to slow them down, not stop them cold. There are dozens of paths through these mountains. The only way that we can know which trail they are on…”

“Is if they're chasing us.” she finished for him.

He nodded and said, “And we're on the wrong side of that rock.”

“Sorry Engvyr. I guess that I might have been… showing off a little. Proving to myself that I've still got the touch.”

He took a few deep breaths and said, “Well, done is done I guess. Is there something that we can do to fix it?”

“Let's see.” She rode back and dismounted. She placed her hands on the rock and closed her eyes. After several minutes she stood back and took a swig from her water bottle and said, “OK, I think that we've got this.”

She returned to her pony and rummaged in the rucksack tied behind the saddle and produced a short sledge-hammer and a two foot long drill rod. She handed these to Engvyr.

“Good thing those gobbos grabbed my pack,” she said, “Ever worked a Single-Jack and Drill?”

He groaned and said, “Sadly, yes I have.”

“Oh come on, it's good for you! Builds character.”

He moved the ponies some distance away, tied their leads off on a low-growing tree and returned. By then the stonewright had marked two positions in chalk with the depths written next to them. One was dead on a crack in the rock and the other at knee-height in the middle of a solid section.

They didn't know how far behind the Baasgarta were but they knew that they needed to hurry. He took the drill and placed it on the lower mark, which was the most difficult because it was awkwardly placed. On the first strike the drill dug far deeper into the hard rock than it should have and he stared in surprise.

“Don't stop. This isn't easy you know!” Ageyra told him. He saw that she had both hands pressed to the rock. Of course, he thought, she’s a stonewright. She's making the stone easier to drill.