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.”
Engvyr woke in 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?”