Lord of the North (Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman - Book 2)

by Michael Tinker Pearce

  The thought of their enslavement and torture hurt, making an agony of his compassion for them. The thought that he was responsible was hard to bear. Perhaps in time the victories achieved this day will blunt that hurt, he thought. But I will not forget the pain. The cost of failure. My failure.

  As much as it hurt he still had to be fair to himself. He had done his best and he honestly could not see how anyone else might have done better. Nor could he see how flogging himself over it was going to improve the situation. Self-pity was foreign to him, and agonizing over what might have been was perilously akin to that. He would indulge himself for the time it took for the Stepchildren to depart, but after that it was time to act. There were still people that depended on him, responsibilities he must live up to. It was the price of power—that he must accept the failures as well as the victories, and move on.

  He would face the consequences of his decisions, He would bear the weight of the lives lost at his command, the friends lost to fate and the enemy. But when the darkness fell and the last ship passed from his sight he would go on, and look back only as it allowed him to do better in the future. He owed that to his family, his people and his king and he would not renege on that debt.

  ***

  It had been a sleepless night, but when the dawn broke it was to reveal ranks of dwarves at the gates of the Council House. Engvyr had tracked the course of the battle through the night, and it seemed that miraculously, it was as promised. Without being driven by whatever compulsion the Stepchildren employed, the baasgarta were confused and disorganized, devoid of the suicidal will to fight to the last. Tired as they were, the iron discipline of the dwarves allowed them to go through the enemy like a scythe, fighting street by street and driving the enemy before them. Many of the goblins tried to flee but found themselves trapped by the very walls they had thought would defend them. The canny colonels of the regiments had stationed forces at each gate to contain them. The trapped enemy fought savagely but they were no match for the seasoned dwarven troops. Even now the baasgarta did not ask for quarter, nor would they have received it. After a long, frustrating winter of hit-and-run attacks and chasing ghosts and shadows, the dwarves finally had the enemy in reach. An enemy that had enslaved their kin, treated them like cattle—eaten them. There was no mercy in their hearts, and their commanders were wise enough to not ask them to conjure any.

  Engvyr was there to greet the colonel when the gates were opened, when she and the rifle battalion that accompanied her entered the court of the Council House. He was pleased to see Sergeant Hemnir with her, still in full cavalry armor. He bowed to the Colonel in response to her salute and said, “Colonel Fritta. It’s good to see you. Sergeant Hemnir—nice to see that you made it through in one piece.”

  The Sergeant grinned, then his face took a grim set and he said, “That I did- I can’t say the same for everyone though. We got the job done, but it cost us.”

  “I’ll need a full report of the action and your casualties,” Engvyr said. “And Sergeant—good work. None of this would have been possible without you and the cavalry.”

  He turned to the Colonel and raised an eyebrow.

  “My Lord,” she responded. “The gates fell as promised and we were able to enter the city with little opposition. Engineers have been detailed to clear the road to recover the braell holed up in the hills. We have secured the perimeter of the Council House and our forces are spreading through the city, hunting down the remaining baasgarta. I expect that by nightfall, tomorrow morning at the latest, the city will be secured.”

  “Casualties?” Engvyr asked.

  The Colonel shrugged and said, “Around four hundred dead or wounded so far, but it could be worse; you always lose people in a city fight. Too many chances for ambushes or simple mistakes. Still, even though the troops are exhausted it’s been lighter than we expected.”

  Engvyr nodded. “Civilians?”

  She replied, “We have found some in hiding, and we’ve liberated several hundred that had been rounded up in groups; you can guess why.”

  He nodded. “You’ve done well. Honestly, I did not expect you for days yet, but your timing could not have been more perfect.”

  She grinned and said, “Well m’Lord, the troops were highly motivated; it was a frustrating winter, and the prospect of a stand-up fight was pretty attractive. Still, once the city is secure I expect they will need to stand down. Between the forced march and fighting around the clock they are at the end of their ropes.”

  “We’ll see what can be done for them, but I don’t expect a day or two to recover will much effect our position here. Lord and Lady know they have earned it! Have your people coordinate with Colonel Gertrid’s staff. Order your troops here to be at ease but remain in formation. I don’t imagine they will be needed right away but one never knows.”

  Engvyr looked around for a moment, took a deep breath, and said, “The chairman and the council are waiting for our report. I suppose we had best go deliver the news. Colonel, Sergeant Hemnir—if you would care to accompany me?”

  The Colonel nodded curtly but Sergeant Hemnir favored him with a feral grin and said, “Oh, aye sir. I’d not miss it!”

  “Well then,” said Engvyr, straightening his back as a deadly calm settled over him. “Best we not keep them waiting.”

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  “Looked at from a broad enough perspective, every problem carries within it the seeds of its own solution…”

  From the Diaries of Engvyr Gunnarson

  “…and the city should be fully taken by nightfall and secure by morning.” Engvyr finished.

  There was subdued applause from the Council members, then Albrekk stood and cleared his throat.

  “I am sure that I speak for us all when I say that you have proven yourself and your people to be true friends and allies to the city of Taerneal. I thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for returning our city to us.”

  This was met by more enthusiastic applause and even some cheers. Engvyr stood, stone-faced and quiet, until it died down. When they had first retreated to the Council House, a palace in everything but name, he had been only too glad to shed his plate armor. No matter how finely made, carefully fitted and comfortable, wearing a suit of armor gets old after a time, but he had stopped at his quarters and donned it before making his appearance. This was no parade-armor; it was finished ‘in the black’ and bore the marks of combat. He had put the suit on in part because it was the harness of a soldier, not the bejeweled and showy costume of a politician. The distinction was not lost on some of the council at least, and as he remained silent they began to look increasingly apprehensive. By the time he spoke, a dropped pin would have rung like a gong against the silence of that council chamber.

  “Let us, you and I, come to a right understanding,” he said, looking directly into Albrekk’s eyes before sweeping his gaze over the assembled council members. “We came to this city because our people had been enslaved, and those slaves were being moved through your port. Among you only Chairman Albrekk seemed inclined to do anything about it. The rest of you dithered and denied and did your best to obstruct any investigation, let alone corrective action. When we finally saw that we must act ourselves, we found it necessary to circumvent this council in order to accomplish our aims. Then we discovered that the slavers had colluded with officials of this city—at the highest level. Nevertheless, when the Stepchildren called on their allies to attack the city we stood with you, bled and died beside you. We spent our lives to insure that your people could escape what would literally be a fate worse than death.”

  He began to pace, locking eyes with members of the council as he spoke.

  “Then we fought in the rear-guard to give you time to retreat to this fortress. We manned the walls alongside your guardsmen and militia. We demanded no payment for this, nor concessions, and we would not have accepted such if they were offered. We did what we did, every step of the way, because it was the right thing to do. All we as
ked for, ever, was justice for our people. Yet the only justice we have received is what we could wrench from our foes with our own hands, and the price was paid in our own blood and the blood of your own watch who, despite your best efforts, conspired to aid assist us—common soldiers who understand the meaning of common decency and aren’t afraid to spend their lives in its cause.”

  Some of the council looked indignant, a few afraid, many angry. Almost none looked ashamed, and that bolstered Engvyr’s already steely resolve. His blue eyes were as cold as a glacier when they locked with Albrekk’s.

  “Then this man, whom you have appointed your leader and spokesman, ordered the murder of ten-score of my people. He consigned them to drown, terrified and helpless, for no other reason than to get the Stepchildren’s attention—to bring them to the negotiating table so that he could betray our trust and let them take our people away, beyond our reach and beyond hope, to suffer unimaginable horrors at the hands of the Stepchildren’s Fleshwrights. All this in order to save the handful of your remaining watch and citizens holed up in this monument to the Council’s wealth and power. Which agreement, I may add, he was only able to achieve because our forces had arrived and were once again shedding their blood on your behalf.”

  Albrekk stood frozen. There was no fear, no defiance or denial in his face. He honestly believes he was doing the best for his people, Engvyr thought. And he is canny enough to have understood the cost of that when he did it. He had to respect that, even if he disagreed with the method and results. We all do what we must, and in the end we all pay the price.

  “We have indeed been ‘great friends and allies’ to your city. But you have not been our friends or allies. There are still those among you who cooperated with the Stepchildren, or simply looked the other way for no better reason than to enrich yourselves. You did so knowing how my people react to such transgressions, and what the ultimate cost could be to the people that look to you for justice, for leadership, and even for their very survival. You are not fit to rule the people of this city- and you never will again. Taerneal is now, and henceforth shall be, a Dwarven city.”

  That got a reaction. An angry outburst from the council members. Shouts, accusations of treachery, demands that he be taken into custody or even killed. Engvyr saw the council guards tense, shifting their weapons to greater readiness and looking to their officers for guidance. Watch Captain Gevrell stood stone-faced and motionless, but did not seem the least surprised. Albrekk gazed about the room, locking eyes with the council members, and when he did, they fell silent. The din gradually died away until Engvyr could speak once again.

  “My first inclination was to have my forces liberate us from this cesspool of corruption and leave you to your fates. But that would be a betrayal of the brave men of your watch and the innocents that shelter within these walls. Betrayal is your coin, not ours, and we will not spend it, here or anywhere.”

  He locked eyes with the commander of the Council Guard and said, “Before you take it into your head to do something truly stupid, you should know that outside the doors of this chamber waits a company of Elite Rifles with instructions to enter and kill every living thing in this room at the first sound of violence—excepting us three, of course.” He gestured to indicate the Colonel and Sergeant Hemnir. “Those dwarves are very skilled and very, very angry. Don’t press your luck.”

  He scanned the faces of the council members. There was anger and outrage, yes, but there was also fear. “As for the rest of you, you might remember that you admitted a battalion of my soldiers to your inner courtyard, where even now they stand ready to take this citadel by force if necessary. Do not compound your already monumental stupidity by thinking for one moment that they cannot.”

  He turned to Captain Gevrell and said, “Captain, your men have fought with courage and honor. I beg of you, for their sake, to order them to stand down. You and your men have served this city and its people well, and have treated with us with greater honor than any other within its walls. Please do not spend the lives of these good men in a hopeless cause for a city that, as of now, is no longer their own.”

  The captain hesitated to reply, torn between sense and duty, then Albrekk spoke.

  “Let me ease your burden, Captain. Though it may be my last act as the leader of Taerneal, I order you and your men to stand down and cooperate with our conquerors. The day is lost. Further bloodshed serves no one.”

  Gevrell looked relieved and nodded once in acceptance. He looked to Engvyr, who said, “Thank you, Captain. The city needs it’s watch; if you would please accompany Sergeant Hemnir, you can discuss what is needed and what must be done.”

  The Captain nodded, and departed with Hemnir. As they left, the dwarven soldiers entered and quietly, politely disarmed the council guard. None resisted. With that accomplished, Engvyr turned back to the council members and observed that the principle emotion most displayed now was simple shock, along with no little fear. “As for you lot,” he told them, “you are to be confined to your quarters in this place while the investigation into the slave ring is completed. While the guilty among you contemplate suicide, and you really should contemplate it, bear in mind that our interrogators have had a century or more of experience in which to hone their craft. In this particular case, they are especially motivated to discover the guilty parties. I will leave to your imagination how we might make examples of you for others who might ever consider taking the coin of slavers.”

  He turned to the Lieutenant in charge of the rifle company and said, “Take them away. Treat them with respect, but if any resist, break things until they can’t anymore—non-vital things, of course; we want them alive. We have questions for them that we cannot ask if they are dead.”

  The officer directed his men to comply, and as a pair of them moved towards Albrekk, Engvyr said, “Not that one!”

  The Chairman turned towards him with a questioning look and the dwarf said, “We have much to discuss, you and I. Let us and the good Colonel retire to your—excuse me, my—office.”

  Albrekk nodded his acceptance with a face bare of expression, but Engvyr sensed that the man did not expect to enjoy that conversation. You always were a sensible fellow, Engvyr thought.

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  “War can make for strange alliances, but sometimes the peace that follows makes for even stranger.”

  From the Diaries of Engvyr Gunnarson

  The chair behind the desk was built for an afmaeltinn, and Engvyr would have looked like a child sitting upon it. This was not an image he wished to present at this moment, so he stood. The soldier that had accompanied them to act as a scribe had no such scruples. After looking at the desk and the chair, he pulled an ornamental box from a shelf and employed it as a booster seat so that he could reach the desk to properly record the proceedings. The Colonel leaned against the desk with her arms folded, and Albrekk stood before two riflemen. He had been relieved of his dagger and knife, but the guards watched him like a hawk. Kevrenn had informed them that the former chairman was a formidable fighter, but armored, and in the presence of three armed soldiers, Engvyr felt safe enough.

  “Right then,” he said. “First things first. Albrekk Drakkenson, you stand accused of the murder of some two hundred dwarves, and of being an accomplice in the kidnapping and enslavement of—well, we don’t know exactly how many others. Let’s just call it a bloody lot. Have you anything to say on your own behalf?”

  Albrekk regarded him for a moment then shrugged. “Only to say that I did what needed to be done for the welfare of my people and my city.”

  Engvyr nodded and said, “Then in my capacity as Lord Warden of the North and Voice of the King, His Highness Durin Dvalinson, I hereby find you guilty and sentence you to death for your crimes against the Dwarven People.”

  The former chairman’s only reaction was a subtle shift as he relaxed ever so slightly. Well, the worst has happened, Engvyr thought. No point in remaining tense about it, I suppose.

 
“In that same capacity I hereby suspend that sentence indefinitely, pending your oath to obey the terms of your parole.”

  The tension came back immediately and Albrekk looked at him sharply. Engvyr waved a hand and said, “Alright then, that’s the formalities out of the way. Sit, sit; we might as well make ourselves comfortable while we sort this out.”

  He looked at one of Albrekk’s guards and said, “See if someone can round us up some coffee if you would. This might take a while.”

  The soldier nodded, opened the door, and spoke quietly to the guard outside. Albrekk looked around, then sat on a small divan near the shelves that lined the room. Engvyr snagged a stool, probably used by a former occupant of the office to reach upper shelves, and sat himself. Then he addressed Albrekk.

  “I can neither condone nor forgive your actions, but I do understand them. I can’t really say for certain that I’d have done differently if I were in your shoes; you needed to demonstrate that their prisoners could no longer act as hostages to shield them. It was, in fact, my own plan to sink those vessels if freeing our folk proved impossible. It would have been a mercy to those poor souls trapped aboard them. Still, we cannot ignore this offense. You understand.”

  Albrekk shrugged, “I do.” He looked at Engvyr curiously and said, “What I don’t understand is why you spare my life, even provisionally.”

  Engvyr considered it for a moment, then said, “Many reasons, actually. Not the least among them, that you alone of your city’s council made an earnest effort to investigate the slave ring operating in your city, and that you actually sent your agent to inform us of your findings. Then you were our ally on the council, helping us to resolve the issue, and after assuming the Chairmanship you worked with us to the best of your ability. These things are all in your favor, but by themselves would not have been sufficient to save your life.”