Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“War is an iffy business. All of a dwarf’s skill and cunning can be rendered moot by a random arrow or catapult stone. It is said that chance favors the prepared mind, but in war she plays no favorites.”

From the diaries of Engvyr Gunnarson

“Well,” Engvyr said as he lowered the spyglass and handed it to Taarven, “I think it's safe to say that we found the main body of their forces.”

Taarven accepted the glass and took a long look through it. He gave a low whistle.

“Lord and Lady, I hope this is the main body of their forces!” he exclaimed.

They were at one of the lower summits in the area looking down into a broad river valley. Where the ground wasn't covered with tents it seethed with Baasgarta. Rather than the neat rows and columns of a dwarven army encampment the goblins favored round tents organized in circles. Not being used to their formations or unit organization Engvyr was having a hard time coming up with a decent count of their numbers. Somewhere between 'lots and lots' and 'oh Lord and Lady we're all gonna die,' he thought.

“It's hard to be sure at this distance,” Taarven said, “But I'm thinking in the neighborhood of fifty to seventy thousand?”

“That's a mighty big neighborhood,” Engvyr said, “And we have four regiments? Call it fifteen thousand effectives? That hardly seems fair…”

“Be reasonable, Engvyr. If we wait around for more of 'em to show up we could be here all winter!”

The Rangers shared an ironic look and eased back from their viewpoint. They were getting ready to work their way back down the mountain to their ponies when Engvyr realized Taarven had frozen, eyes wide and surprised.

“You've gotta be kidding me!” he exclaimed.

Engvyr followed his gaze to the cliff opposite them. There in the middle of an apparently sheer cliff stood an ulvgaed. Its rider was staring at them in shock that near-equaled their own.

“Bloody Maker-taken mountain goat mother…” Engvyr swore. The rider began to raise a horn to his lips as the ranger brought his long rifle to bear. WHACK!

As the heavy bullet slammed into his ribs the rider's horn gave a short 'honk' before dropping from his nerveless fingers. He overbalanced his mount as he toppled from the saddle and the pair plummeted from sight, the ulvgaed howling all the way down.

“Well, that won't attract attention,” Taarven commented mildly and began to slide down the slope towards their own mounts. Engvyr launched himself after him.

“Well, I couldn't very well let him blow that horn, could I?” Engvyr protested, wincing as his backside bounced off a rock protruding from the slope.

When they made it down they stopped briefly. They could feel the ground thrumming under their feet and hear the crackling rush echoed back to them from the direction of the cliff. A cloud of dust rose from the gully.

“Because this is so much better,” Taarven commented dryly, then held up a hand to forestall further protest from his partner, “But we can discuss that later. For now I suggest we should perhaps run like hell?”

It was well after midnight when the two rangers rode their exhausted ponies into the fortified camp. After unsaddling them and giving them a good rub-down they turned them loose into a corral and made their way to Captain Gauer's tent to report what they had found.

“That tallies with the other reports that had been coming in,” the captain told them.

He looked at them sharply, his eyes taking in their condition for the first time. “You boys look like hell. Get cleaned up and get some chow in you. Likely it's gonna be a long day tomorrow.”

They took his advice. As Engvyr drew a basin of water to wash up he pondered about the Baasgarta. Between the reports of the Braell and the statements of some of the captured Baasgarta the goblins had experienced a major religious upheaval a few decades before. A messianic figure called The Dreamer had emerged and claimed that a God, the True God, spoke to him in his dreams. He had rallied the Baasgarta and gotten them all working together. His message, supposedly channeled from their god, was that they would rise up and take the world for their own, eradicating or enslaving all the lesser creatures and establishing a new order in the world. Whatever had been dug up in the Makepeace Valley was apparently crucial to this 'uprising,' but none of their captives were clear as to exactly what that might be.