Master Ranger Berryc waved a hand dismissively.
“Oh you did right, there's no doubt a ‘that,” he said, “I've a feeling that the lad in yonder room is a key to this whole affair. It'd be nice if we could talk to him.”
“Well, even if we can suss out his speech it's going to be a while,” Deandra said briskly as she emerged from the room where the boy was being kept, “He's traumatized, exhausted and finally sleeping. It's a miracle that he hasn't already taken a fever so I'll thank you not to disturb him until he wakes.”
Engvyr smiled at her tone of command and extended a hand to her, which she took as she moved to stand close to his chair. He felt a thrill at her touch and comfort in her nearness. Besotted, he thought with a grin, that's the word. She squeezed his hand as if sensing his thought. With an effort he returned his attention to the conversation.
“It sounds to me almost like the old tongue,” Engvyr said, “or a dialect of it anyway. I'm just not familiar enough to say.”
Ynghilda nodded agreement and said, “It seemed so to me, too. I've sent to the camp for Harryl Gymlison. He learned the old tongue as a student in Ironhame, so if it is a dialect he's got the best chance to figure it out of anyone local.”
“In the meantime it seems likely to me that the boy is an escapee from the Baasgarta,” Said Colonel Oakes, commander of the 3rd Rifles, “I can't really see where else he might have come from.”
Ynghilda nodded, “They've been taking our folk. We've suspected they might be keeping them for slaves, but this boy isn't one of our own. Might be from somewhere else along the North taken years back but I don’t know anywhere they speak that tongue. That'd mean the Baasgarta have been taking dwarves for a lot longer than we thought. Hell, he might even have been born there.”
“Well,” said the Colonel, rising to depart, “We're not likely to figure it out by jawing over it all night. I need to get back to the camp. If'n you're able to find out anything be so kind as to send a rider to fetch me there.”
He nodded to them all and departed.
“The boy is likely to sleep through the night,” Deandra said, “I'll set with him so he doesn't wake alone.”
She kissed Engvyr good night and he watched her go with regret. They were newlyweds after all, and had gotten to spend precious little time together since the war started. Ynghilda also retired, Taarven in tow. Taarven scowled at Engvyr, daring him to comment but he just grinned. With a sigh he settled himself deeper into his chair by the fire and closed his eyes.
“What's the news?” the Colonel inquired as he entered.
Engvyr rose and poured the officer a cup of coffee and said, “Nothing yet. The boy's eaten and they've been in there an hour or more. They sent for you as soon as that fella’ figured out that he could talk to the boy, after a fashion at least.”
“Might as well pull up a chair,” Berryc told him, “No telling how long they'll be at it.”
Not that much longer, as it turned out. Ynghilda and Taarven emerged. They both appeared shaken by what they had heard. Ynghilda held up a hand to forestall their questions and fetched herself a cup of coffee. Taarven waved off Engvyr's questioning look and went outside.
Ynghilda settled herself into a chair and collected her thoughts before she spoke.
“First thing the boy did when he could make himself understood,” she told them, “was to beg us to be his new masters, and to tell us he was the best rat-catcher on his crew.”
The implications of that simple statement sank in quickly and the colonel began to swear softly. Engvyr felt his own fists clench in reflexive fury.
Ynghilda noted their reactions and continued, “He was a slave of the Baasgarta alright, but it's worse than we guessed. He was born to it as his folk have been from time out of mind. Seems like those goblin bastards have done a better job keeping dwarves as slaves than The Master ever figured out how to do.”
They heard someone chopping wood outside. It sounded like he was trying to kill the logs, not just split firewood. Taarven, at a guess. Nothing in the world would anger any dwarf as much as the idea of his folk being enslaved again.
“Seems they teach 'em from the time they can talk that they are being punished for sins in their past lives. The Baasgarta have made a religion of it, and by the time they're old enough to work they think it's no better than they deserve.”
They all digested that in silence for a moment.
“Anyway, weeks back they brought a bunch of them here, to a gully up north and set them to digging for something. The boy, his name is Squirrel, by the way, didn't know what they were looking for but it seemed almighty important to the Baasgarta.”
“How many are they, could he tell you that?” asked the Colonel.
“From what the boy told us there are several hundred slaves and maybe a couple battalions of Baasgarta,” Ynghilda said. She thought a moment, a disturbed expression on her face, then continued, “I think that for the moment we'd best keep this among ourselves. We don't need folk getting' in a bother and haring off after them on their own, and once this becomes common knowledge you know they'll want to do just that.”
Engvyr understood completely; he was almost overwhelmed by the desire to do something, anything, right now. Wait…
“Uh, brought them here? From where?” Engvyr asked.
Ynghilda scowled and said, “A place called the Pit, deep inside the Baasgarta kingdom. Apparently there are two types of slaves- farmers and miners. There are thousands, maybe tens of thousands of enslaved dwarves in their lands.”
Berryc swore with rage that they all understood and shared.
“We're going to have to keep ahead of this thing, alright. We also need to get word to Ironhame; this is going to mean a general mobilization. More immediately was the boy able to give you any clue as to where this dig-site is?” the Colonel asked.
“Well, bein' as he had no clue as to what a map was he could only describe it. There's a gully up in the northeast edge of the valley that people avoid, think its haunted or some such. I can't be sure but it sounds like the place,” Ynghilda said.
They consulted over her maps of the valley for some time, but finally decided that they must wait at least a few days for more of the rangers to report in before moving. It would not do to give in to their rage, act prematurely and find themselves blindsided by an unexpected force.
“That may also give time for the 4th Heavy Infantry to arrive,” The colonel said, “They have been sent up to reinforce us and to help force a breakout when the time comes. Looks like that time may have come sooner than any of us expected…”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“We had expected the usual sort of war. Basically we would fight the Baasgarta and eventually achieve some sort of balance and a negotiated peace. But after news of the slaves got out that was all dust in the wind. This would be a war of eradication, if not of the Baasgarta as a people then certainly of their culture. The dwarves of Dvargatil Baeg would not rest while a single one of their brothers or sisters labored under the lash of slave-masters.”
As the first blush of light touched the sky the dwarves of the 1st Mounted Infantry regiment fixed bayonets and prepared for the assault on the Baasgarta. They were outnumbered two to one and their enemies were in prepared positions. Worse yet even the light repeating crossbows favored by the Baasgarta had a longer effective range than the infantry's slug-guns. The dwarves didn't care. They were mad as hell and by the Lord and Lady they were going to crush the goblins. They were not so mad that discipline failed; their commanders had told them enough in advance so that the first flush of rage had passed. Now they were coldly angry and determined.