“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.
He set to work, striking and turning the drill over and over. Dwarves were literally made for hard-rock mining and with any practice at all were very efficient. Twenty minutes later they were both soaked in sweat but had two one-inch diameter holes of the desired depth. Had it not been for the stonewright's power it would have taken hours with those tools and the goblins would surely have arrived before they were finished. They caught their breath for a moment then she began removing items from the ruck sack. Three metal containers, a mortar and pestle, some scoops, a one-inch wooden dowel and some other odds and ends.
“Engvyr,” she said casually, “Why don't you go back over by the horses. This requires some concentration.”
He nodded and did as he was told while she mixed the blasting powder. This was the tricky part and was always done by one of her kind when possible. Mixing the stuff wasn't difficult, just three ingredients in the right proportions, but it was several times more powerful when mixed by a stonewright. The explosive always had to be mixed right before use as it wasn't safe to have it just lying around. The stuff wanted to explode, in a magical sense at least, and any Battlemage worth their salt could detonate it at a great distance.
After a few minutes work Ageyra picked up her gear and hurried back to where Engvyr stood with the ponies. They moved far enough to have solid rock between themselves and the explosives. When they were ready the Battlemage closed her eyes, took a few deep breaths and then snapped her fingers. Instantly a double-boom rolled across the hills.
They went back to check the result of their work. They had to wait a few minutes for the smoke and dust to clear before they could see the results of their handiwork. Engvyr gave a low whistle. The massive slab had shattered into boulders and rubble- far greater effect than the two small charges should have had.
“You've spoiled me for mining forever,” he told his companion, “If'n I ever had to do it again without a stonewright it'd just seem like too much work.”
She grinned at the compliment as she wiped sweat from her brow.
“The gobbos ought to be able to work their way past that in an hour or less,” she said, “Good?”
“Great,” he said, rolling his shoulders, “Next time let’s go for this first time out though, OK?”
“You got it boss.” she said, “They had to have heard that and they must be pretty close now. Might be we should get clear of this place.”
Engvyr agreed and checked the position of the sun.
“Sunset in about an hour. This is going to get real interesting.”
They rode on, keeping to a modest pace to spare their ponies. The beasts were bred for endurance but there were limits. As it grew dark they had to be more careful. Goblins see somewhat better in the dark than dwarves, but not by much as both races were created to work underground with poor lighting.
They paused occasionally to prepare little surprises for their pursuers. They strung thin, strong lines across the trail at ankle, knee or neck height. These were not likely to produce real injury but they would frighten and more importantly annoy the Baasgarta as it forced them to slow down to look for them. In a couple of places Ageyra found slopes that were 'agreeable' to creating small rock falls across the trail. They would only slow the goblins by minutes but every little bit helped.
When the moon was high enough to illuminate the area Engvyr stopped and set up a shooting position that covered a particularly well-lit section of trail several hundred paces back. Ageyra took the ponies a few hundred paces the opposite direction to wait for him.
About a half-hour later the goblins came into sight. They had a man out on point a good fifty paces from their main group carrying a crossbow. Engvyr wasn't worried as goblin crossbows were short-ranged affairs. He waited until the main body appeared and looked for a likely target. The point-man signaled a stop- he'd found one of their trip lines. The main body of their pursuers, about a platoon strong stopped and waited while the lead goblin made sure that the trap wasn't anything nastier than a trip line.
Engvyr noticed one goblin with a bandaged hand and grinned. Well why not? He sighted carefully and shot him. He reloaded and looked for another target. The goblins had scattered of course and he rose up to get a better look…
Crack! A crossbow bolt shattered on the rock next to him and he dropped behind the boulder that was sheltering him. Peering cautiously around the boulder he could see the point-man cranking frantically at the mechanism of his weapon. The Baasgarta apparently also used heavy crossbows in addition to repeaters. That was game-changer, and as the goblin was placing a bolt in the weapon's groove the Ranger shot him.
He searched the area around the trail for more targets and heard the distant thwack of a crossbow. A second later he heard the bolt buzz past. Time to go.
Dawn found them riding along a ridge line looking for a good spot to fire down on the goblins from above. Engvyr heard a thunk and Ageyra grunted. Turning quickly he felt an impact on his left shoulder and saw a goblin stroking the lever of his repeating crossbow. He felt a blaze of pain as he shouldered the rifle but ignored it as he shot the goblin through the heart. Looking around he saw no other targets.
“What the hell was he doing up here?' He asked.
Ageyra was just getting her pony under control and Engvyr saw the fletching of a crossbow bolt sticking out of her thigh.
“Best you get down so that we can take care of that,” he said. Something tickled at his beard and he looked down to see a bolt sticking out of his own shoulder just inside the joint.
Ageyra said, “Getting down would be problematic. I'm pinned to the saddle. Hang on…”
She drew the knife that she had taken and carefully worked it between her leg and the heavy stirrup leather. Sweat stood out on her brow as she sawed through the bolt just below the head.
Engvyr tried to reload the rifle and found that he couldn't do it one-handed while mounted. He felt other stabs of pain and noted disinterestedly that there was a bolt sticking out of the calf of his leg as well. And another in the saddle bow next to… Another two inches to the left and Deandra and I would have to adopt, he thought. He shoved the irrelevant thought aside.
“Got it,” Ageyra said as she finished cutting through the bolt. He looked up at her just as a nightmare latched onto the throat of her pony and the goblin riding it tackled her right out of the saddle. He heard hoofs on stone and turned to see another of the riders bearing down on him. He had an impression of an elongated mountain goat with thick, curled horns and a long snout full of hooked teeth being ridden by a falchion-wielding Baasgarta. His pony took one look and screamed in fear, threw him and bolted.
He slammed into the ground on his back with a burst of pain that forced a short scream from him and then the goblin's mount was rearing over him, preparing to smash the life out of him with its cloven hooves.
He heard Ageyra scream in rage and a spike of rock slammed up out of the ground, scattering dirt and chips of stone, impaling the beast and its rider both. He blinked in surprise. Turning his head he saw the woman propped up on one hand, the other extended towards the impaled goblin with fury burning in her eyes. The other goblin was sprawled on his back with her knife-hilt standing out of his ribs. Just past the corpse of her pony the other goat-creature was also impaled by a spike. Note to self, he thought with semi-hysterical humor, don't piss off a Stonewright-Battlemage.
Her eyes met his and the fury faded from her gaze. She slumped, gasping for breath.
“Show-off,” he croaked. He tried to move but felt a burst of pain before he fell back against the rock and passed out.
Chapter Nineteen
“Sometimes it's better to be lucky than good, but it's better still to be lucky and good.”
From the dairies of Engvyr Gunnarson
Engvyr woke i
n a room that he had never seen before. The bed sheets were soaked in sweat and his memory was a confused whirlwind of nightmares and fever-dreams. He felt a warm pressure on his right hand and realized that someone was holding it. Turning his head he saw Deandra seated next to him, smiling.
“About time that you woke up!” she said, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
He tried to speak but it came out as a croak.
Disengaging her hand, she patted his good shoulder.
“My frog prince,” she said with a grin, poured him some water and held the cup to his lips while he drank. When he was done she smiled and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Looks like the fever has broken. You had us worried for a while. You were out of your head for three days.”
He tried to sit up. It hurt like hell but he managed it and Deandra hastily pushed some pillows behind his back to prop him up. He tried again to speak and it worked better this time.
“Marry me,” he said.
“Of course,” she replied as she continued to fuss with things to make him more comfortable.
“Just like that?”
She laughed gaily and kissed him, “Yes, you silly dwarf, just like that.”
He settled back with a sigh and closed his eyes, content. Then a thought occurred to him and his eyes flew open, “Taarven, Ageyra, did they make it?”
“Everyone's fine. Now rest, love, they can tell you all about it later.”
She took his hand again and he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
When next he woke Ynghilda was sitting by his bed. She was not holding his hand.
Noticing that he was awake she said, “Finally! I swear, between you and Taarven I've never seen two lazier Rangers.”
He cleared his throat and said, “Nice to see you too, Ma'am.”
“Well,” she said, “I'll allow as you were kind of a mess when they brought you in.” She went on to cheerfully catalogue his various ills. He'd had two crossbow wounds, a concussion, a sprained back, some cracked ribs and a fever. “Honestly Engvyr, you really have to start being more careful. A little thing like a rear-guard action through unknown territory against a platoon of Baasgarta shouldn't be so traumatic.”
“You're getting quite good at the sarcasm thing, ma'am. You really should make more use of it,” he said. She gave him a gimlet stare then broke into a grin.
“Seriously, how are you feeling?” she asked.
He thought about it for a moment and said, “Like I've been put through a wringer and shaken to get the wrinkles out.”
In truth he was possessed of a post-fever restlessness and energy. He wanted to be up and about, even though he knew that he would tire quickly. Looking around the room he noticed the stone walls, the massive, elaborately carved beams and thick carpets on the floor. The furniture wasn't ornate but was heavily made and of obvious quality.
He said, “Um, where are we exactly?”
“We’re in a guest room in my private apartments.”
He digested that for a minute. “Why?”
She rolled her eyes and said, “Lord and Lady, Engvyr, we couldn't very well have you passed out on a bench in the great hall, could we?”
He pressed her for more details of how Taarven and the others had fared but she would only reassure him that they were all well and to say that they would tell him themselves later.
“Changing the subject, I understand congratulations are in order?”
“Oh, Deandra told you?” he asked
She looked at him askance and said, “No she didn't Engvyr, I was sitting right over there!”
She gestured to a chair not inconspicuously located nearby. She laughed and said, “I guess you only had eyes for her at that moment.”
When Deandra brought in some meat broth he was able to feed himself. He also drank a substantial quantity of water. Afterwards he was dressed in thick wool socks, loose linen pants and a thick robe, then was helped into an overstuffed chair by the fire in the great hall.
Ageyra was there already, a crutch propped next to her, speaking to Master Ranger Berryc, who was Captain Gauer's second in command at Ghost Creek. He greeted them both as Deandra got him settled into his chair. Once she was satisfied as to his comfort she left them to talk among themselves.
“So Berryc, how do you come to be here?” he asked.
“I just arrived, actually,” the Master Ranger said, “We're going to be basing more of our people out of Makepeace Stead. Things are picking up all along the northern frontier. I came to set up the forward station here and coordinate operations with the army.”
“Picking up? How do you mean?”
“There have been several attacks on steadings and clanhames by companies of Baasgarta. So far they've all been turned back,” Berryc said, “But it looks as if they are gearing up for bigger things.”
“Have we seen anything more of these riding-beasts of theirs?” Engvyr asked.
“Nope. Interesting thing is that some of the local trappers have a tale about such a creature called an Ulvgaed, a 'wolf-goat,' but we always thought that was just a myth,” Berryc said, “Our Rangers scouting Baasgarta lands will be taking a close look at any mountain goat tracks they encounter. It should be pretty easy to tell if such a beast is being ridden.”
Engvyr nodded. The extra weight of a rider would make for deeper tracks and the elongated body would cause the tracks to be spaced differently. Nothing you would really notice if you weren't looking carefully, but from now on they would be.
“I've been thinking about them, these ulvgaeds,” Ageyra said, “I got a pretty good look at the two that we encountered and I don't think that they could be any sort of natural creature.”
“You suppose that they are change-beasts?” asked Engvyr.
“That would go along with the idea that the Baasgarta have been isolated since the time of The Maker,” Berryc said thoughtfully, “Engvyr, if you see that goblin friend of yours again you might ask if they know anything about these beasts.”
“I surely will,” said Engvyr, “But now Ageyra, I'm mighty curious about what happened after our fight with the ulvgaed, and how I came to be back here.”
“I've read the report of course but I wouldn't mind a bit to hear it first-hand,” Berryc agreed.
“Well alright then,” said Ageyra and launched into the tale. The first thing that she had done was to patch up their wounds. Thankfully Engvyr's pony hadn't gone far. She was able to get ahold of it and had gotten Engvyr slung over the saddle and tied in place. Then she'd found a sapling that she could cut for a walking stick and headed south.
“Mind you I was in pretty rocky shape at that point, having been as you might recall shot my own self. Also creating those spikes had taken a lot out of me and given me a terrible headache. Anyway between hanging on to the saddle and a walking stick I was able to hobble along. I got us down to the trail and that was easier going, but I knew those goblins were coming up behind and there was no hope of outpacing them.”
Wounded, exhausted, her magic spent she had done what she could. She put one foot in front of the other and trudged onward, hoping rather than believing that a miracle might save them. When the Baasgarta came into sight behind her she had slapped the pony on the rump and sent it trotting off down the trail. She had taken a position behind a boulder and prepared to sell her life as dearly as possible.
“It was actually a pretty good spot for an ambush,” she said, “And fortunately I wasn't the only one that thought so. When the Baasgarta got to a hundred and fifty paces I lined up the carbine and fired.
“As if that were a signal all of a sudden a whole platoon of gunners stood up out of hiding and let them have it in one massed volley. I'd walked right through the middle of their ambush and never saw a thing, what with the shape that I was in by then. Well, those goblins were so shocked most of them just stopped right where they were and stared. A few kept running at me so I shot another one and then the boys and girls hit 'em with another volley, and then it was 'f
ire at will.' Of the thirty-five or forty goblins that were on our trail I don't think but three or four of them got away.”
It turned out that Taarven's group had got to the edge of the valley and ran into a heavy infantry platoon on patrol. They'd explained their plight and the sergeant in charge moved his troops into the mountains and set up an ambush. Their intent was to relieve or avenge the rear-guard if they made it that far. Of course they also didn't want a platoon of Baasgarta infantry running around in the Makepeace Valley either.
After that it was just a matter of bringing them back to the stead.
Engvyr looked at Ageyra and said, “You are a hell of a woman, Ageyra Flint.”
“An' don't you forget it!” she said with a grin, “And you're no slouch yourself, Engvyr Gunnarson. A couple of those shots you made… hell, I saw it myself and I still don't believe it!”
Berryc looked at him and asked, “Did you really shoot a man through the chest at five-hundred paces and shoot another one's hand off?”
“Well, the hand was an accident, truth be told,” Engvyr admitted, “I was aiming for his body. But he was powerful-far away.”
The sergeant shook his head in wonder.
“I don't know why I'm surprised,” he said, “but you really shouldn't make a habit of this sort of thing, Engvyr.”
“Twice is not a habit, Berryc” Engvyr protested.
Ageyra looked at him and said, “You've done this sort of thing… Lord and Lady, you're that Engvyr Gunnarson? The one that held off a whole regiment of dragoons during the Kaeralenn Retreat?”
“It was only a battalion, and besides,” he said, “It wasn't like I didn't have help! There were three of us.”
Ageyra shook her head in wonder, then looked at him as something else occurred to her.
“Wait- you were given a Royal Award of Arms and a Land Grant of five-hundred acres for that action, and from the Prince's own hand no less,” she said, “What is a Lord of the Realm doing chasing goblins and fighting rear-guard actions at the end of nowhere?”
Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman Page 14