Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman

Despite the disparity in numbers Engvyr was confident that the Baasgarta would be defeated. The goblins fought as a mob, with little organization or discipline. Thus far they had proven to be no match for the well-trained and highly disciplined dwarven regiments, even when they had the dwarves massively outnumbered.

Some held that faith made men powerful, that religious fanaticism made them strong. He had nothing against faith; Engvyr, like many dwarves, was a student of history. He had studied the military history of his people and he had observed fanaticism was more likely to make an army stupid, over-confident and ineffective. If the Lord and Lady favor an army, he thought, they seem to have a marked preference for well-disciplined and organized ones.

He put such thoughts aside as he wrapped himself in his bedroll and fell quickly asleep. He dreamed of the Daenteg Idengeord, that strange un-living plain at the top of the world he passed through as a boy. He hadn't dreamed of that place in years. He woke ill-rested, oppressed by a heavy sense of foreboding.

He was quiet and still out of sorts when he joined Taarven in the mess-tent at breakfast. Taarven was caught up in his own thoughts and did not comment on his partner's moodiness. They had finished their meal and were each nursing a cup of coffee when a Senior Ranger entered.

“Formation in fifteen minutes, people!” he yelled, “Fall in on the stables in fifteen!”

Engvyr and Taarven looked at each other with raised eyebrows. The Mountain Guard almost never held a formal formation where they actually assembled by squads. Too many of them tended to be out on their rounds at any given time to make it worth bothering with such formalities. They finished their drinks and went to join the other rangers gathering by the stables. They managed to get themselves lined up credibly enough and waited to see what would happen.

The Senior Ranger came out and called them to attention, then Captain Gauer addressed them.

“We have a movement order, people. At first light tomorrow morning our assembled forces will be maneuvering to contact with the Baasgarta. Skirmishers from the 1st, 3rd and 4th will be scouting ahead. We have been assigned to guard the baggage train and perform as a rear-guard.”

The Captain ignored the groaning that followed this announcement and continued.

“Command expects that we will be in contact with the enemy by nightfall tomorrow. The plan is to dig in hasty defensive positions and not engage until morning. At that time we will be assigned individually as runners for the Army commanders. When you are dismissed you will see to your weapons and equipment and insure that all is in readiness for the move tomorrow.”

The Captain paused and looked at each of them before continuing.

“Get some rest. Unless I miss my guess we're fighting tomorrow night, whatever the commanders are planning.”

With a final nod the Captain turned the formation over to the Senior Ranger, who split them up into different details to prepare for the advance. Engvyr and Taarven wound up helping to break up the ranger's supplies and get them distributed. Since they would be working as runners each man would have to be self-supporting. They would carry their own food, water and ammunition for the day, in addition to bandages, their bedroll, cleaning kits and a measure of Uis-Ge for pain-relief and disinfecting wounds.

As they finished other chores the rangers accepted their packs from Engvyr and Taarven, then went through them to check every item for themselves. It wasn't that they didn't trust them; it was simply that they were all tired and anyone can make a mistake. Best to catch any errors while they were still easy to fix.

Engvyr and the others sat up for a time after dinner cleaning their carbines, touching up the edge of a sax-knife, reinforcing the stitching of their boots or other mending chores. The Mountain Guard chose it's rangers from among the ranks of the veterans of the regiments, so there wasn't a one of them that didn't know what to expect in the coming days. Most worked in silence, lost in their own thoughts and memories.

If there had been any among them that were going into their first fight they might have been insulted at being relegated to bringing up the rear and guarding the supplies. But these dwarves knew the importance of those supplies, and were grateful for what would probably be a relatively easy day in the saddle. Once the battle started they would be in the thick of it, running orders and information from unit to unit to help coordinate the battle, and to make sure that those supplies got where they were needed.