Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman

“It's almost time,” the officer said to Grael as she approached, “If you could form your people up on either side of the pass the infantry can retreat between them if need be.”

Grael nodded, and began yelling instructions down the hill to the militia. Deandra’s heart fell as she realized the infantry were being pushed back though the pass. These soldiers and the militia were preparing a last stand, but once the Baasgarta got out onto open ground they would spread out and crush them with sheer numbers before turning on the refugees. We have lost after all, she thought. But neither the officer nor Grael acted like men preparing a suicidal last stand, and the soldiers seemed relaxed as they unslung their rifles.

Rifles?!

The soldiers were carrying long-rifles like the one Engvyr used. She looked at them sharply and realized these troops weren't part of the heavy infantry company from the valley. Examining them more closely she saw that they all had a stylized number three on their shoulders picked out in blood-red thread. They were from the elite 3rd Rifles- her husband's old regiment!

Grael spotted her and said, “Good, you’re armed, come with me.”

They joined the closest group of militia at the side of the road just as a company of heavy infantry trotted out of the pass and broke into two, setting up next to the militia. She looked for more of the 3rd regiment troopers, but saw only a small group of them on the other side of the road. These soldiers carried carbines slung over their backs and wore no breastplates. They were standing in a circle and didn't seem to be doing anything at all. Battlemages? She wondered.

Suddenly a new noise intruded over the increasingly near roar of battle, echoing through the pass. Wham. Wham. Wham. Every two seconds like a massive, beating heart. She realized it was the sound of rifles, thousands of them, being fired in volleys on the other side of the pass. The 3rd must be dug-in on the slopes above the road! She realized, that was why it had looked different than I remembered.

After a minute she could hear volleys from slug-guns, much nearer, joining in. When the heavy infantry troops that had just left the pass formed up and marched right back in Grael gave out a whoop and clapped her on the shoulder in his excitement.

“They whipped, em', Boys!” he shouted. The militia on both sides of the road took up the cheer and filed after the infantry as she joined them, walking back the way they had come. Within two-hundred paces they came to the last position held by the rear-guard of the refugee column. Scores of wounded and dead infantry littered the sides of the pass. Medics tended to the living as they could while others laid out the dead.

They held them, she thought numbly, they stopped the Baasgarta cold, right here. But Lord and Lady, the cost…

She looked down the pass. It was an abattoir, literally carpeted with the bodies of dead Baasgarta, sometimes two deep. Deandra took a deep breath and with an almost physical effort shoved her shock and horror aside. Slinging the Big 14 she turned back to do what she might for the living.

Chapter Twenty-One

“The battle of Cougar Creek Pass was one of the most stunningly successful ambushes in history. Of the two regiments of Baasgarta that entered the pass barely twelve-hundred of them made it out alive

and then only because of the approach of two intact regiments. Rather than launching the expected assault the Baasgarta dug and seemed content to hold our forces while they consolidated their hold on the Makepeace Valley.

Or so we thought… “

From the diaries of Engvyr Gunnarson