And save his life he did. The goblin's herbs eased his father's fever and he pointed out edible and medicinal plants to Engvyr and his aunt. He also showed Engvyr how to improvise simple traps, like a deadfall with a figure-4 trigger, some snares and the like. He taught him more of tracking though he had a strange way of teaching. He'd point something out and wait for Engvyr to suss out the meaning, giving hints only if the boy was completely stumped.
The goblin stayed with them most of a week. By that time his father's fever was long passed and he was able to move about at least a little. His back was much improved but the broken knee would take weeks or months to heal. In fact he might never walk again without the aid of a cane or walking-stick.
In the end the goblin took no leave of them, but slipped away in broad daylight without a word. His father advised them not to be hurt by this, saying that it was just his way.
The reason for his abrupt departure became apparent within the hour. Engvyr was gathering firewood when he heard a shout. Looking up he saw a pair of Rangers of the Mountain Guard. One of them was waving and he returned their wave as he moved forward to meet them. Taking in his appearance and the weapon that he bore the Ranger greeted him with a question.
“Would you be Engvyr Gunnarson then?”
“Aye, that I would.”
The Ranger nodded and explained, “We met up with your pack-train. They told us of your misfortune and we came to see what could be done. It took us some time to work around the mountain and come down from the north. Are you and your folk well?”
“As much as can be expected. My father is busted up some from the rock-fall. You can come and see for yourselves if you like, but for the moment you have the advantage of me…?”
The Ranger shook his head at himself and said, “Where are my manners? I'm Rolph Fehrenson and this is my partner, Roel Cooper.”
The other Ranger nodded and touched the brim of his hat in greeting. Engvyr brought them into the shelter and introduced them all around. His Aunt served them up coffee, biscuits and beans with beef. None of them made any mention of their previous visitor. The Rangers seemed a bit puzzled and soon voiced the cause.
“We'd been given to understand you had nothing; that some ne'er do wells had made off with your oxen and all of your goods? Was this not the case?”
“It was,” his father confirmed, “but Engvyr managed to recover the one ox.”
“And the pony?” asked Rolph, who seemed to do the talking for both of the Rangers.
“Fella' that was riding him had no further need of him,” Engvyr said, keeping his eyes on his food.
“Would that be the fellow with a hole in his chest that you could pass a tent-pole through?” the Ranger asked dryly.
“Likely so.”
“By the Lord's teeth, boy! We're the Law out here. It's no more than our duty to look into people dead of mischief, and I think that a gunshot wound qualifies as 'mischief' if anything does! Best that you tell us what happened.”
In the end nothing would do but that he tell the whole story. He kept to the bare facts and when he was done his father and aunt were staring at him, astonished at the tale. He felt uneasy with their regard and ducked his head, flushing.
“Engvyr” his father said, “I had no idea…”
He shrugged, his appetite gone, and set aside his bowl and spoon.
Rolph said, “Well, your account agrees with that of the folk of the train and such evidence as we could discern. We'll report it as you say. You've done a man's portion, boy.”
He shrugged again. “I just did what needed doing.”
His father leaned across and put a hand on his shoulder and said, “That's what a man does, son. What he must. Now finish your supper; a man needs his strength in this country.”
They got to know the pair of Rangers well over the course of the next week. At first Engvyr was a little put out that they didn't take out after the thieves but Rolph explained it.
“It might be we could catch up with them despite them having such a good head-start. That won't bring your kin back, and I doubt your Ma would thank us for neglecting you all when you need our help. We'll make our report and the word will get out so don't fret. Folk will be looking for them soon enough.”
Engvyr had to admit there was some sense to that. While they had done well with their makeshift shelter it was small, cramped and fragile. The first good storm would likely shred it and leave them exposed. Fortunately there was better to be had fairly close at hand.
“There was a family tried to settle up here about seventy years back,” Rolph told them, “ran some trap lines, did some placer mining and did alright for themselves for a time. Then the father got taken by winter-fever and his widow took their kid back to her clan. Their hame is about a good day of travel north and has been vacant for some years.”
“You reckon it's still standing?” his Aunt asked.
This seemed to amuse the Ranger for some reason.
“I reckon so.”
In the event it took them most of two days to reach the Hame, owing to his father's condition. When they arrived Engvyr stared at the building in surprise. Still standing indeed, he thought, and likely to be standing as long as the mountains!
The roof of the hame was an enormous slab of granite, its base set into a ledge on the side of the mountain. Its sides were set onto four roughly finished stone blocks, each half-again as tall as a dwarf and an arm's length thick. The spaces between were filled with dry stone walls, the rocks shaped and fitted until you couldn't have slipped a knife-edge between them. There were two small windows flanking the opening for the door and a chimney poked up near the back of the slab.
“How in the Lord and lady's name did they build this place? I just can't figure it.”
His father looked at the hame for a moment and shrugged.
“Danged if I know,” he said, “But folk are mighty clever and people can do amazing things when they put their minds to it.”
Engvyr shook his head, looking at the slab with a miner's eye.
“But that rock must weigh fifteen tons if it's a pound! I just can't make out how they managed it,” he said.
“That's a Stonewright's work for sure,” Roel said and gestured to the structure, “They can do some surprising things. A good one with a small team can erect a hame like this in a couple of weeks. I once watched a Stonewright and his apprentice lift a slab like this, must have weighed ten tons, in a day with nothing but a bunch of sticks, a couple of beams and some rope.”
He must have looked skeptical because the Ranger went on to explain.
“They'd already cut the slab with drills and blasting powder and they horsed it into position with levers and rollers. They set the beams into the ground hard up against the slab with their tops sloped towards each other and tied a rope between 'em. Putting a heavy stone on one end of the slab tipped it just enough that they could slide a narrow pole under the high side between the two beams. Then the 'prentice picked up the rock and walked to the other end of the slab so that it tipped it the other way and the wright put a pole under that end. He just kept carrying the rock from one end of the slab to the other while the Stonewright slid the poles under it. They kept at it until that big 'ol slab was as high as a dwarf can reach. Dangdest thing I ever saw.”
Engvyr studied the hame for a moment and then pointed to the side.
“So then they did somethin' similar to lift those side-blocks into place and dropped the slab on it, I reckon.”
Roel nodded.
“They just cut the rope between the beams and it settled right down into place. Next time we came through on our rounds that place was all finished. The family had already moved in and was planting crops.”
Once Engvyr had heard it told it seemed like the easiest thing in the world. He reckoned that a lot of things were like that. A dwarf needed to learn to look at things in different ways when the way that he knew wouldn't do.
“Might be we could stop admiring the p
lace and go about getting it ready to live in?” Egerta inquired dryly.
The rangers made sure that nothing bigger than spiders and bugs had taken up residence. After they announced that it was safe they lit lamps and went within. There was a large main room with a fireplace under the slab itself. Three smallish rooms had been mined into the rock-face at the rear. A latrine had been built off to one side in a small addition.
The roof of the addition had rotted and fallen in, and the interior needed a good cleaning as animals had sheltered in it from time to time. A stout table made of a thick slab of wood still stood in the main room, likely left as it was too heavy to move and in fact wouldn't fit through the low, narrow door. It was still sound after all these years owing to its heavy construction and the dryness of the interior. They set to work with a will and that night they slept under a proper roof, with a fire in the newly cleaned fireplace.
They found the head of a broadax along one side of the hame, its haft long rotted away. They scoured it with sand to remove the worst of the rust and Rolph showed him how to cut and trim a new handle for it. They used it to cut planks for a door, a new roof for the latrine, some benches and other furniture. They also set up a corral for the livestock and trekked to nearby meadows to cut the tall grasses for feed. In a surprisingly short time the hame was becoming comfortable, even homey.
One afternoon Engvyr was gathering firewood and he heard a soft sound from the hillside above the hame. Moving carefully he came upon his aunt, curled into a ball and sobbing uncontrollably. He knew that she had hardly had time to properly mourn her lost husband before they had departed. With the fresh loss of her daughter and sister-in-law, who had been her best friend in the world, it was a testament to her inner strength that she had held herself together this long.
He moved off quietly and watched over her through the long afternoon until at last her tears ran out. She fell into a deep sleep right where she lay. Not wanting her to take a chill lying on the cold ground he worked his way back down to the hame and called out for her. She came down the hill, eyes dry and once again the model of strength she had been these last weeks.
Nor was his father immune to grief, and though he gave little outward sign he was a quieter man than the one that had raised Engvyr. Though Engvyr never saw him cry he was prone to nightmares and on more than one occasion he was red-eyed and puffy-faced when he rose in the morning.
Berget was now seeing to her own needs and would do as she was told but had yet to speak. When not occupied she would sit for hours staring blindly at nothing. Engvyr took to setting her small tasks to keep her busy, which seemed to help.
Rolph borrowed the Big 14 and went out hunting one day and brought down a boar bigger than he was. He had to fetch Engvyr and Roel to help carry it back to the hame. It took the rest of the day to skin and butcher it. They used some of their remaining salt to preserve large chunks of it and cure the side-meat. His aunt used the intestines and some local herbs to make strings of sausages that they hung by the fire to dry.
Finally Rolph told the family that it was time for them to move on.
“We've been off our rounds for weeks. As it is we'll not make our check-in without cutting out a loop of our patrol route.”
“We'd not meant to keep you from your duty, Ranger,” His aunt said.
He dismissed that concern with a wave.
“We've been doing our duty, ma'am. We patrol against threats and enforce the King's Law, yes, but it's just as much our job to help folks like yourselves. We do need to report in, and more-or-less on-time. If we don't they will have to take other rangers away from their patrols to search for us.”
“No worries,” his father assured them, “Get on with you. We're well set-up here, thanks to you. I'll be up and around soon enough and we'll be on our way.”
The Rangers shook hands with them all and accepted hugs from his aunt along with a bag of freshly made biscuits.
“Next time our rounds bring us this way we'll stop in and check on you. That'll likely be a month or so” Rolph told them, “until then be well.”
He swung into the saddle and gave a small wave. Roel touched the brim of his hat in farewell and they set off.
Chapter Seven
“A Dwarf may set his foot on any path he chooses, but that path will lead where it leads regardless of his intended destination. If he is too set in his mind on his original goal he may in his disappointment entirely miss the wonder of where he winds up.”
From the diaries of Engvyr Gunnarson
“You've done well for yourselves here,” Rolph commented, looking around the hame.
Good as their word the Rangers had returned. They brought with them some small things that the family might need, odds and ends like a spool of strong thread, some iron needles, a small bag of salt and a box of 14-bore slugs. They even brought some hard candy for Berget, which she accepted gravely. She still did not speak but a spark of life was coming back into her eyes at last.
Busy as they had been the month had passed quickly. They had never stopped working on improving the hame, little things like shutters for the windows, shelves, a couple of small benches and the like. It didn't matter that they were moving on, dwarves are folk with a love of making things, and making things neat and tidy. Besides, other folk in need might come along and be able to make use of them.
Mostly they had gathered food for their trip and to extend their scant supplies. Engvyr and Egerta constructed a make-shift smokehouse to preserve the game that he shot. He took a deer and a smaller boar and they sliced up all the meat that they could and smoked it. His aunt collected herbs and dried them, both for seasoning and for simples.
His father was doing better. His back was all but healed and he was moving about the place, even going outside with the help of a stout cane. Even as he recovered he had spent much of his time carving bowls, spoons and other small, useful things.
“You'd hardly know it for the same place,” Rolph said as he looked around admiringly, “have you thought of staying, then?”
His father shook his head.
“Might be we could make do through the winter if I weren't crippled up. We can manage a few weeks on the trail but winters are long and cruel hereabouts. Best we make for our Clanhame.”
“You'll need to move out smartly, then, if you're to make it over the High Passes. The Endelg Afkol, the Death Chill will hit them early this year,” Rolph said.
“Death Chill? What is that?” Engvyr asked.
“Those High Passes never really get snowed in but they get fierce wind and cold. It gets so cold if you spit it will freeze before it hits the ground. That's when you know you're in a Death Chill, when you can't bundle up or be active enough to keep from freezing to death. That happens, well, you need to get back down the mountain in a hurry, or else somewhere warm to wait it out.”
After supper they talked on about conditions on the road ahead and the hazards that they might encounter along the way. When they grew tired the Rangers rolled their bedrolls out by the fire and the family retired to their rooms. In the morning they broke their fast with meat left over from supper and griddle-cakes cooked in bacon-fat.
“Mind you don't tarry if'n you mean to make it to your Clanhame before the passes close,” Rolph advised as the Rangers swung into their saddles to ride on, “The town of Loevpas is two or three days up the trail and you can pick up some necessaries there. I don't know as there is any place you can winter over twixt there and the High Passes. Worst come to, if you get stopped in the mountains you might be able to make it back to town.”
They watched until the pair passed out of sight and his father sighed.
“Guess that we'd best be about it then.”
They had a good store of smoked meat and dry sausages at this point, but not enough to over-burden the ox. This was good, as his father would need to ride their one pony. While he could get around after a fashion he would never be up to traveling any kind of distance on foot.
They gathered tubers and wild onions from the land about, and the blackberries were coming into season. They picked these with caution, mindful that they were a favorite of the bears that lived thereabouts.
His aunt took the fruits of their gleaning and made a strong, spicy stew to put into Travel Pyes. These had a thick, salty crust that after baking was hard enough for a dwarf to break his teeth on. She'd filled these with the stew and sealed them with a top-crust and baked them again. The pyes would keep for weeks and make for an easy meal on the trail. The crust was not really edible so they could just set them in a pan to heat and eat the contents.
Finally they were ready. The ox had been living high these last weeks and wasn't keen to wear the packs again but resigned himself to it quickly enough. Unlike the first time they took to the road there was no issue of what to take and what to leave; they had little enough that the beast was far from fully loaded when all was said and done.
Before they left they erected a simple marker with the names of his mother and cousin, the year and the simple notation, “Taken by the Mountains” scratched deeply into the stone. Each of them said a few words over it, excepting Berget who simply placed a bouquet of wildflowers and her lost sister's doll before the stone. Even then she shed no tears, just looked on gravely as they each said their piece.
They closed the door to the hame firmly and double-checked that it was latched. They had no thought that they would return but others in need might come upon the place. It was hard to leave that snug little hame- it had been a home to them, however briefly. It had given them time to rest, recover and grieve. Even though Berget said nothing Engvyr caught her looking back several times as they walked away.
They stopped in Loevpas overnight. The settlement consisted of a dozen hames, a smithy, tannery, general store, stables and not a lot more. His father was able to purchase some supplies, mainly bulk foodstuffs. His Aunt was able to secure some willow-bark tea and local remedies to help with altitude-sickness for when they traversed the High Passes. Even after loading their purchases onto the oxen its packs looked lighter than any of them liked.
Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman Page 5
