Dwarven Rifleman Series: Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman Page 25

  “Breaks Rock, by the statements of those present and the witness of my own eyes, I find you guilty of attempted murder and Regicide. By the Power vested in me by His Majesty Dvalin Dvalinson, King of Dvargatil Baeg I must now pass sentence.” She took a deep breath and continued.

  “Breaks Rock, you are cast outside the law and sentenced to die. Upon review of your sentence by the Crown Court, you will be taken from this place and before the eyes of His loyal subjects you will hang by the neck until dead. May the Lord and Lady have mercy upon your soul.”

  “Ynghilda,” Deandra said as she turned to the older woman, “If you would be so kind as to place the condemned in confinement until such time as the appropriate authorities can review his sentence?”

  Ynghilda nodded, then turned to the prince and said, “Unless his Highness cares to exercise his rights in this instance?”

  Deandra had no idea what the stead-holder was talking about, but the prince, seeing her confusion and guessing at its source, explained.

  “One of my many duties is that I am an honorary High Justice of the royal court, and as such I have the power to review your sentence. Given, however, that I am the intended victim of the crime in question I think that I need to recuse myself. Please place Breaks Rock into confinement for the moment.”

  Ynghilda nodded and signaled for the prince's men to follow her and departed. Deandra favored the prince with a considering look.

  “So,” she said, “It would seem that our procedures for rehabilitating the Braell aren't the only thing that you were sent here to evaluate.”

  The prince shrugged, unabashed.

  “Lady Eastgrove,” he said without any hint of apology, “A person of, forgive me, foreign birth has fallen into one of the highest positions in our society. Surely you understand the necessity of gauging the mettle of that person as quickly as was practical?”

  Deandra nodded reluctantly, but nonetheless folded her arms and gave him a less-than-sweet look.

  He did now have the grace to look a little uncomfortable under her regard. “I must confess, I originally had in mind to simply form an impression of your character, not to put you to such an extreme trial. Which you have passed admirably, I must say. Still, I cannot apologize for my actions, merely express regret at having caused you discomfort.”

  So saying the Prince bowed gravely to her.

  Deandra shook her head slightly and said, “I suppose that I cannot expect you to apologize for doing your duty, so let me say that were apology needed, forgiveness would have been forthcoming, and let us proceed from there.”

  “So then,” he said, gesturing to the chairs by the hearth, “Shall we discuss that other matter that brings me here? The situation in Baasgarta lands will be different, having no place such as this to bring the newly liberated Braell into. What would you advise?”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “It's not enough to abstain from volunteering for the hard jobs; you need to abstain from competence, too. Too bad I never managed that trick... it would have saved me a world of trouble.”

  From the diaries of

  Engvyr Gunnarson

  The cavalry hit them at mid-morning. The column was moving up the river valley after the Baasgarta forces with the 3rd Rifles at its head in a double-column eight ranks wide. They were moving along the open ground by the river when the goblins charged them from the edge of the forest around three hundred paces away. They came on in a mass, in hot pursuit of a hapless ranger that had been scouting that flank and might have triggered their charge early. Engvyr and Taarven were scouting on the opposite flank.

  The ponies that dwarves could ride were no match for the Afmaeltinn horses that they might face in the south, so while they had mounted infantry that would ride into battle they fought dismounted. That didn't mean that they didn't train to deal with cavalry charges. As the Baasgarta poured out of the trees the horns blew the signal to receive cavalry on the right flank.

  The column stopped and immediately executed a right-face towards the enemy. The first rank knelt and the second rank aimed over their heads. The trick to breaking a cavalry charge was to hit them as hard as possible as fast as possible so the dwarves fired two ranks at once. The 3rd Rifles was an elite formation and it showed. Though no signal was given, eight-hundred rifles spoke as one in a near-perfect volley. The charge faltered as several hundred of the lead riders went down.

  The second rank knelt and while they reloaded, the third and fourth ranks fired over their heads with devastating results. But even so the cavalry closed the distance in seconds. There was no time for a third volley before the goblins were on them.

  The volleys broke the shock of the charge but did not stop it. Traveling in hostile country as they were, the dwarves had their bayonets mounted and used them to good effect. The kneeling soldiers stabbed into the charging ulvgaeds. The second rank rose to stab at the riders. Once the goblins were among them they laid about them with their falchions, their carnivorous mounts snapping at the dwarves. The riflemen struck back with bayonets and iron-shod rifle-butts, their heavy quilted coats, breastplates and kettle-helmets standing them in good stead now. The furthest ranks that had not been able to fire in the volleys sought targets of opportunity, firing over the heads of their comrades at the mounted goblins.

  Engvyr watched with concern as the two forces came together in a swirling melee. This was his old regiment; dwarves that he knew and had served beside were dying in the midst of that chaos. He had to forcibly remind himself to keep an eye on his surroundings as well; there was no guarantee that this was the only cavalry force creeping about.

  Behind the 3rd Rifles the heavy infantry was swinging out of the column to advance on the cavalry's flank with pikes and slug-guns, but before they could get into position the Baasgarta's horns sounded the retreat. They disengaged and raced for the wood-line, angled away from the approaching force. Sporadic shots from the 3rd followed them. The heavy infantry managed a single volley but the distance had opened too far and it had little effect.

  Engvyr couldn't make out details from his vantage but it was obvious that the column of infantry had been ravaged. With an effort of will he put aside his concerns and they continued their scouting.

  --**--

  “We've already moved irregular troops from the northern militias up to fortify the Baasgarta garrison that we took last week; The wounded will be sent there for the moment,” Captain Gauer told them that night after they had joined the army in camp.

  “How many?” Taarven asked.

  “Over a hundred dead so far,” the Captain reported grimly, “Three times that number out of action due to injuries, some of whom won't survive. Maybe another two-hundred with minor wounds that will stay with the regiment.”

  Engvyr winced, and asked, “And the Baasgarta?”

  “We've found around four hundred so far. Can't really guess about their wounded.”

  This was the heaviest blow the Baasgarta had dealt them yet, but all things considered it was still not that bad. It had weakened them a bit, and would hurt them still more because they would need to detach at least a battalion to escort the wounded to the garrison.

  “Which reminds me,” the Captain said as he turned to the rangers as a group, “We'll be starting a new protocol tomorrow. You'll still patrol in pairs, but you'll keep a hundred paces between you whenever lines of sight allow. Should you encounter the enemy you are to blow a warning immediately, then attempt to evade.”

  “We have found the enemy! It's been nice knowing you all,” quipped one of the rangers. The rest chuckled.

  The captain smiled faintly and said, “It's a bad time to be us, but the army cannot sustain these sorts of losses indefinitely. Command has decided that they'd rather risk our butts than get caught flat-footed again.”

  “In better news, the 4th Heavy Infantry is joining up with us tomorrow, and in two-three days we should be hooking up with the Eastern Force, consisting of the 1st Rifles, the 3rd and 5th Heavy
Infantry, the 4th Mounted Infantry and the 1st Engineers. This will give us near parity in numbers with the Baasgarta force that we are pursuing.”

  That was good to hear. If we can catch up to them with that kind of force at our back we'll roll them up, Engvyr thought.

  “I'm going to meet with Command now. I suggest that you ladies get your beauty sleep. We've got an early start tomorrow.”

  --**--

  “Taarven, Engvyr, Torvaald, Brekke, you're with me,” Captain Gauer said, gesturing for them to accompany him. The four rangers looked at each other and followed. The other rangers stayed to get their scouting assignments for the day.

  The captain led them into the command tent and turned to face them.

  “You four have, through skill, determination and sheer, blind luck shown yourselves adept at surviving the worst of situations,” he looked them over for a moment before he continued, “As a result you have been selected for a special mission. We need a better picture of the lands of the Baasgarta. You four are going to get it for us.”

  Turning to a table with a map showing the area of the river valley that they had explored thus far, he gesturing to the north he said, “Taarven, you and Engvyr will follow this valley. If there's nothing there hop the ridge into the next valley and keep going. Torvaald, Brekke. You'll do the same from this valley. Try to keep proceeding generally north. The valley that we are currently in seems to curve around in that direction so you might find yourselves ahead of the Baasgarta. If that occurs proceed up the valley ahead of them and see where they are going.”

  “What are we looking for, sir?” Brekke asked.

  The Captain shrugged and said, “Whatever is there. If you come across one of their 'plantations' make note of its position and carry on. If you find The Pit or a Baasgarta city return to report. Other than that you are map-making. Avoid contact with the enemy, and if you encounter any try to evade deeper into their territory. Any questions?”

  “If we find neither The Pit nor a city how far do we go before we come back?”

  “Five days out, five days back at the most.”

  There were no more questions so the rangers went to make their preparations. Engvyr and Taarven were ready to go by the time the column began to form up. They brought with them a remount each and a pack-pony with supplies for two weeks of travel. Riding out of camp they headed north into the small valley that the captain had designated for them.

  They rode cautiously at first, keeping to cover and looking for any signs of Baasgarta activity. They kept to the wooded slope of the valley, frequently cutting across to the other side to look for tracks or other signs. They found no evidence of a goblin presence so when the ground began to climb they crested the ridge into the next valley and found activity almost immediately. There was a small lake with a low stone house and several hovels on the shore. From their height they could see dozens of Braell along the shore working at some task that they couldn't make out at this distance, and several of the Baasgarta watching over them.

  “Fishing or crawfishing at a guess,” Engvyr said, lowering the spyglass. Taarven nodded. They stayed high on the slope as they bypassed the outpost and continued north. By evening they had reached the point where their valley spilled out into a larger river-valley. Unless it doubled back on itself rather abruptly they guessed that this was not the same one the Baasgarta forces were fleeing along. This larger basin was under cultivation with many of the Braell just coming in from the fields. They watched through their spyglasses as the dwarves were herded into low structures, apparently just a peaked roof set on poles only a couple of feet off the ground. The poles were set too closely for any of them to slip out, and a barred gate closed them in for the night. A thread of smoke issued from under the roof at either end. At a guess there was enough room to stand only at the center of the structure. The Baasgarta posted no guards on the building and retreated into another of the low-roofed stone houses that they appeared to favor.

  As it grew dark lights came on in the windows, and a short time later they could hear a thread of music drifting to them on the light breeze. Moving off the rangers found a hollow in the side of the valley where they dared a small fire for their dinner and coffee.

  “It's funny,” Taarven said, “But it never occurred to me that they'd play music.”

  Engvyr nodded and said, “I know what you mean. We don't think of them as being like us, reading or dancing or courting but when it comes down to it I suppose that a lot of them are just folks.”

  “Just folks that have kept our people enslaved since the time of the Maker,” Taarven reminded him. Engvyr shrugged.

  “Sure and that's true, but they still have to do the same sort of things as any folk,” Engvyr said, “Likely they're like most people, some good and some bad. They just live in a culture that says it's ok to keep dwarves as slaves. It's the culture that's evil, the individuals mostly just don't know any better.

  Doesn't make them any less our enemies. It's a thing to think on after the war.”

  Taarven poked at the tiny fire with a stick and said, “Which begs the question of what happens to all of these 'folks' when the war is over?”

  Engvyr shrugged again.

  “I honestly don't know. Fortunately that will be someone else's problem.”

  “You dearly hope,” said Taarven with a wicked grin, “Lord Eastgrove.”

  Engvyr reached out and casually shoved the other ranger. Taarven, crouched by the fire, had to flail to keep his balance, duck-walking sideways. He snickered and Engvyr glared at him.

  “Don't you start that 'Lord' business with me! I've been your partner too long... I might just start to 'reminisce' with Ynghilda some evening...”

  Taarven assumed a look of offended innocence and said, with mock-righteous indignation, “I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about! M'Lady and I have no secrets between us.”

  “So she knows about that barmaid over in Sgeggisdale? The fat one?”

  “That was one time, and I was drunk!” Taarven said, then looked at him reproachfully and admitted, “So maybe a fella needs to have some secrets...”

  --**--

  At first light they crossed the valley to the opposite slope and picked their way along under the trees. They saw other plantations and many Braell working under the watchful eyes of their masters. A road paralleled the river connecting the farms, and as the day went on the land below the slopes became more and more densely populated. They had to move more carefully now, as they came across evidence of logging and other activity in the forest. They dismounted to skirt these areas, one of them leading the ponies and the other scouting ahead, creeping from cover to cover.

  Engvyr was scouting along the edge of a clearing when he literally ran into one of the Baasgarta. He rounded a large old-growth fir and a startled goblin rose and turned to face him, dropping his basket of mushrooms. Unlike the goblin Engvyr was primed for the encounter and struck immediately. He felt the iron-shod butt of his rifle crunch into the Baasgarta's temple with sickening finality. The mushroom-picker dropped like a pole-axed steer.

  The ranger crouched and froze, looking for others. After several minutes he was satisfied that the goblin had been alone and signaled Taarven forward. They examined the corpse curiously; this was the first time they had seen a Baasgarta in their normal dress. He wore a light shirt bloused into homespun trousers and a leather jacket, fairly normal-looking boots, a belt with a knife and pouch and a broad-brimmed hat to protect him from the light. In the dimness under the trees he had undone the scarf that covered his face and they could see that he was hardly more than a youth. Engvyr's blow had cracked his skull and killed him instantly.

  The dark brown leather jacket looked odd to Engvyr and examining it more closely he made a revolting discovery. The odd appearance came from the lack of seams, explained by the remains of a slave-brand on the back of the right shoulder. It was the complete skin of a Braell's upper torso, tanned, dyed and lined with woolen fabric. It was
split up the front with buttons to close it.

  “OK... that's just... wrong.” Taarven said. Engvyr was battling his own disgust as the reality of the Braell's true condition and situation became further apparent. They weren't merely slaves to the Baasgarta, they were a resource.

  “Yeah... well, we're not at war with these people because we like them,” he said. They tossed the body down a rocky gully, hoping that when the corpse was found it would look like an accident.

  They continued as they had been and as darkness approached they moved further up into the hills to find a camping spot. Looking to the northwest they could see a faint glow on the horizon. It was the reflected glow of light on the smoke of many fires.

  “Could be their army,” Engvyr said.

  “Or a city. I expect we'll find out tomorrow,” Taarven responded.

  In the morning things had changed in the valley. The fields were empty and the central road was choked with groups of Baasgarta in 'civilian' clothes and Braell loaded down with bags and boxes. There were some carts and small wagons pulled by some sort of beast, ulvgaed perhaps. It was hard to tell from their vantage point.

  “Refugees,” Taarven said, “I think we might be back to the main river valley after all.”

  “This many nervous people moving around I think that we'd best stick to the heights today,” Engvyr said and Taarven nodded agreement. They spent the day moving along the upper edge of the tree line, the folds of the land bringing the refugees below in and out of sight. That afternoon the valley turned sharply north, and in the bend on the opposite side they could see what must be a Baasgarta city. They broke out their spyglasses and looked the place over.