Chapter Twenty-Nine
“War is an iffy business. All of a dwarf’s skill and cunning can be rendered moot by a random arrow or catapult stone. It is said that chance favors the prepared mind, but in war she plays no favorites.”
“Well,” Engvyr said as he lowered the spyglass and handed it to Taarven, “I think it's safe to say that we found the main body of their forces.”
Taarven accepted the glass and took a long look through it. He gave a low whistle.
“Lord and Lady, I hope this is the main body of their forces!” he exclaimed.
They were at one of the lower summits in the area looking down into a broad river valley. Where the ground wasn't covered with tents it seethed with Baasgarta. Rather than the neat rows and columns of a dwarven army encampment the goblins favored round tents organized in circles. Not being used to their formations or unit organization Engvyr was having a hard time coming up with a decent count of their numbers. Somewhere between 'lots and lots' and 'oh Lord and Lady we're all gonna die,' he thought.
“It's hard to be sure at this distance,” Taarven said, “But I'm thinking in the neighborhood of fifty to seventy thousand?”
“That's a mighty big neighborhood,” Engvyr said, “And we have four regiments? Call it fifteen thousand effectives? That hardly seems fair…”
“Be reasonable, Engvyr. If we wait around for more of 'em to show up we could be here all winter!”
The Rangers shared an ironic look and eased back from their viewpoint. They were getting ready to work their way back down the mountain to their ponies when Engvyr realized Taarven had frozen, eyes wide and surprised.
“You've gotta be kidding me!” he exclaimed.
Engvyr followed his gaze to the cliff opposite them. There in the middle of an apparently sheer cliff stood an ulvgaed. Its rider was staring at them in shock that near-equaled their own.
“Bloody Maker-taken mountain goat mother…” Engvyr swore. The rider began to raise a horn to his lips as the ranger brought his long rifle to bear. WHACK!
As the heavy bullet slammed into his ribs the rider's horn gave a short 'honk' before dropping from his nerveless fingers. He overbalanced his mount as he toppled from the saddle and the pair plummeted from sight, the ulvgaed howling all the way down.
“Well, that won't attract attention,” Taarven commented mildly and began to slide down the slope towards their own mounts. Engvyr launched himself after him.
“Well, I couldn't very well let him blow that horn, could I?” Engvyr protested, wincing as his backside bounced off a rock protruding from the slope.
When they made it down they stopped briefly. They could feel the ground thrumming under their feet and hear the crackling rush echoed back to them from the direction of the cliff. A cloud of dust rose from the gully.
“Because this is so much better,” Taarven commented dryly, then held up a hand to forestall further protest from his partner, “But we can discuss that later. For now I suggest we should perhaps run like hell?”
It was well after midnight when the two rangers rode their exhausted ponies into the fortified camp. After unsaddling them and giving them a good rub-down they turned them loose into a corral and made their way to Captain Gauer's tent to report what they had found.
“That tallies with the other reports that had been coming in,” the captain told them.
He looked at them sharply, his eyes taking in their condition for the first time. “You boys look like hell. Get cleaned up and get some chow in you. Likely it's gonna be a long day tomorrow.”
They took his advice. As Engvyr drew a basin of water to wash up he pondered about the Baasgarta. Between the reports of the Braell and the statements of some of the captured Baasgarta the goblins had experienced a major religious upheaval a few decades before. A messianic figure called The Dreamer had emerged and claimed that a God, the True God, spoke to him in his dreams. He had rallied the Baasgarta and gotten them all working together. His message, supposedly channeled from their god, was that they would rise up and take the world for their own, eradicating or enslaving all the lesser creatures and establishing a new order in the world. Whatever had been dug up in the Makepeace Valley was apparently crucial to this 'uprising,' but none of their captives were clear as to exactly what that might be.
Despite the disparity in numbers Engvyr was confident that the Baasgarta would be defeated. The goblins fought as a mob, with little organization or discipline. Thus far they had proven to be no match for the well-trained and highly disciplined dwarven regiments, even when they had the dwarves massively outnumbered.
Some held that faith made men powerful, that religious fanaticism made them strong. He had nothing against faith; Engvyr, like many dwarves, was a student of history. He had studied the military history of his people and he had observed fanaticism was more likely to make an army stupid, over-confident and ineffective. If the Lord and Lady favor an army, he thought, they seem to have a marked preference for well-disciplined and organized ones.
He put such thoughts aside as he wrapped himself in his bedroll and fell quickly asleep. He dreamed of the Daenteg Idengeord, that strange un-living plain at the top of the world he passed through as a boy. He hadn't dreamed of that place in years. He woke ill-rested, oppressed by a heavy sense of foreboding.
He was quiet and still out of sorts when he joined Taarven in the mess-tent at breakfast. Taarven was caught up in his own thoughts and did not comment on his partner's moodiness. They had finished their meal and were each nursing a cup of coffee when a Senior Ranger entered.
“Formation in fifteen minutes, people!” he yelled, “Fall in on the stables in fifteen!”
Engvyr and Taarven looked at each other with raised eyebrows. The Mountain Guard almost never held a formal formation where they actually assembled by squads. Too many of them tended to be out on their rounds at any given time to make it worth bothering with such formalities. They finished their drinks and went to join the other rangers gathering by the stables. They managed to get themselves lined up credibly enough and waited to see what would happen.
The Senior Ranger came out and called them to attention, then Captain Gauer addressed them.
“We have a movement order, people. At first light tomorrow morning our assembled forces will be maneuvering to contact with the Baasgarta. Skirmishers from the 1st, 3rd and 4th will be scouting ahead. We have been assigned to guard the baggage train and perform as a rear-guard.”
The Captain ignored the groaning that followed this announcement and continued.
“Command expects that we will be in contact with the enemy by nightfall tomorrow. The plan is to dig in hasty defensive positions and not engage until morning. At that time we will be assigned individually as runners for the Army commanders. When you are dismissed you will see to your weapons and equipment and insure that all is in readiness for the move tomorrow.”
The Captain paused and looked at each of them before continuing.
“Get some rest. Unless I miss my guess we're fighting tomorrow night, whatever the commanders are planning.”
With a final nod the Captain turned the formation over to the Senior Ranger, who split them up into different details to prepare for the advance. Engvyr and Taarven wound up helping to break up the ranger's supplies and get them distributed. Since they would be working as runners each man would have to be self-supporting. They would carry their own food, water and ammunition for the day, in addition to bandages, their bedroll, cleaning kits and a measure of Uis-Ge for pain-relief and disinfecting wounds.