The soldier's slug-guns had an effective range against an individual target of about a hundred paces, but firing en mass against a target as large as the goblin's defensive works two hundred paces was not excessive. They opened the attack with a volley while the pike men rose from the trenches and moved forward. Their pikes were useless for this sort of work so they advanced behind pavises, large rectangular shields simply made of planks. These were designed to provide cover for the advancing gunners. They were proof against the lighter weapons of the Baasgarta and would at least provide some protection against their heavy crossbows.
The pavise-bearers took four paces forward and grounded their shields. The first rank of gunners moved up behind them and fired another volley. Then the next rank of shields leap-frogged them while the gunners reloaded and their own gunners volleyed. This process was repeated by the following ranks over and over, allowing the advancing ranks to maintain almost continuous fire as they moved quickly across the field between the opposing earthworks. It also spread the damage among the ranks so no single group absorbed more punishment than the others.
Crossbow bolts hammered into them, occasionally piercing the shields. The closer they got to the goblin lines the more accurate the soldier’s fire became, but the same was true of their enemies and more dwarves began to fall. Reaching the rows of spikes on the berms that sheltered the enemy they cleared them by the simple expedient of chopping at them with the lower edge of their shields. This and the rising slope of the berm exposed them to enemy fire and the first ranks of infantry were decimated. Despite this the others pushed forward until they crested the berms and the gunners went to work with their bayonets. The pike-men abandoned their pavises as they drew their shortswords and bucklers.
Once the two armies came to grips the goblins surged forward. Shooting with slug-guns or crossbows became a chancy thing. The dwarven soldiers fought in good order with iron discipline as the Baasgarta washed against them, fighting savagely but with little coordination. The dwarves had taken casualties advancing on the goblins despite their skill. Now the superior numbers of the Baasgarta and the obstacles of their defensive works began to tell on the attackers.
Far behind the lines an officer lowered the spyglass and said, “It's time.”
The dwarf next to him raised a horn and blew a short musical phrase. Other horns picked up the call and passed it along. At the top of the pass a soldier heard the call and directed his shuttered lantern into the mouth of a great tunnel that had recently been opened by the engineers. Far below in the depths of the mountain another light flashed in response. Within minutes of the command from the officer on the mountain, the word was received.
Battlemages can usually detect blasting powder and detonate it before it can be of any use in a fight, but they have to be looking for it. If the Baasgarta had battlemages, they were not looking for the explosives beneath the solid rock of the hillside eight-hundred paces away from their defensive positions. As a result they were as shocked as anyone when the side of the hill erupted in a burst of shattered stone and debris. The Baasgarta stared as the cloud of smoke and dust began to dissipate, replaced by a cavernous hole in the slope. Within moments figures began to emerge. Row after row of dwarves marched out and formed ranks, advancing even as their formations came together. The 3rd Rifles had joined the fight.
As Engvyr had surmised so many years before, the mountains were laced with tunnels. Called the Secret Ways, these tunnels were mostly sealed and cunningly hidden, there to be used at need. The time had arrived, and the blind end of the tunnel was blown out to provide access to the valley.
At four hundred paces the advancing force opened fire on the enemy formations. Volleying by ranks they maintained continuous fire on the goblins. They did not rely on pavises, advancing instead behind a wall of flying lead. Return fire was sparse, most of the Baasgarta having abandoned their crossbows to join the melee. As the dwarves approached, those that did fire on them found themselves cut to pieces as dozens of rifles targeted them. The 3rd Rifles extended their lines as they advanced, curling behind the Baasgarta positions. At the same time the rear ranks of the 1st Mounted Infantry shifted west, opening fire as they cleared their own formations.
The Baasgarta had oriented their defensive works facing the pass so they were largely exposed to the fire of the riflemen. Each volley that crashed into their ranks killed scores, and the added fire from the Heavy Infantry killed still more. The goblins tried to turn to face the new threats on their flanks but it was hopeless. The heavy slugs tore through shields, armor and soldiers. It was too much. The Baasgarta broke and tried to flee between the flanking forces. The main body of the 1st Regiment followed after, savaging them with bayonets and point-blank fire. The fleeing goblins leading the rout ran straight into the withering crossfire of the flankers. Less than an hour after the detonation on the hillside the battle was over, the Baasgarta forces annihilated. The few hundred of them that escaped into the woods and low hills of the valley would be no threat for some time to come.
The horns sounded again and the pursuit of the fleeing goblins broke off. Wagons of ammunition and supplies rolled down from the pass as the 1st and 3rd reformed their ranks. The Militia emerged from the pass and dispersed in pursuit of the fleeing Baasgarta. A large body of the refugees from the valley began tending the wounded and separating the bodies of the dead.
The 1st had taken heavy casualties. Nearly a third of their strength was dead or out of action but they reformed and rearmed over the course of the morning. The 3rd Rifles had fared much better as they had never closed with the Baasgarta.
By noon the troops had rested and reformed, even had a hot meal. They were ready to march on the reported location of the pit mine.
As soon as the last ranks of the 3rd Rifles were clear of the tunnel exit a dozen rangers mounted up and spurred their ponies into the open air, followed by four companies of mounted skirmishers. Where the infantry had turned left on leaving the tunnel the mounted unit turned right. Engvyr and the others spurred their ponies into a canter to clear the way more quickly. Looking back he saw some confusion in the ranks of the skirmishers. It's only to be expected, he thought, seeing as they are used to working by platoons, not in near-battalion strength.
In fact they got themselves sorted out in a commendably short time, all things considered. If the formation lacked the precision of the Mounted Infantry that could be excused. Engvyr had been a skirmisher himself during his second hitch in the 3rd rifles. In addition to sniping and small-unit raiding they were as close to cavalry as the dwarven army got; like the Mountain Guard's rangers they mostly carried repeating carbines. While these were not nearly as powerful or as long-ranged as the big rifles they could easily be cocked while mounted. About a third of the skirmishers did carry long-rifles, but like Engvyr they mostly kept them scabbarded on their saddles.
The location had been confirmed by Ranger Harryl and his partner just days before. The force of skirmishers was on it's way to rescue the slaves before word of the break-out reached the Baasgarta troops guarding the dig. There was some thought that the goblins might kill the slaves if they felt that they had to withdraw in a hurry.
Berryc signaled them to slow to a trot to allow the formation to close up. The Master Ranger was in charge of the expedition until they reached the dig-site, after which the commander of the skirmishers would take over. Engvyr knew that things would not go as smoothly as any of them would like; it was a scratch force of small units that were not trained to work as a larger group. They simply had to trust that it would work well enough.
There had been considerable argument as to whether to send the skirmishers. Some had argued that the Mounted Infantry should be tasked with the mission, and there was much to recommend the idea. But that would have meant pulling them out of the defensive works, and then there was the matter of the Baasgarta Cavalry still at large in the valley. In the end that had been the deciding factor, that if it came to it the skirmishers could
fight a cavalry engagement and the Mounted Infantry could not.
When the riders had closed up enough Berryc signaled them to canter again. They would try to alternately canter, trot and walk their mounts to make the best time that they could. The problem was it took time for the signal to travel the length of the formation so the group would first become strung out, then the rear ranks would hurry to catch up. When the signal to trot was given the rear ranks would be slower to respond and almost run over the leading ranks. They tried, they really did, but it soon became apparent that it was hopeless. They just weren't trained for this sort of mass maneuvering. Berryc gave up and settled them into a trot.
They stopped briefly at midday to water the horses before continuing. The dwarves ate in the saddle, biscuits with cheese and bacon baked into them washed down with sips from their canteens. Practice was improving their formations as well, but Engvyr thought it was wise of Berryc not to trust that and keep them to a single gait.
The Baasgarta cavalry found them about an hour after their watering stop. They spilled from behind a grove of trees in a mass and slowed to a crawl, spreading out into a rough line facing the dwarves.
Engvyr was close enough to the Master Ranger to hear him mutter, “What the hell are they playing at?” He signaled the dwarves to spread out as well.
Engvyr understood his confusion; while the dwarves did not bother with cavalry they understood the methods and tactics. The goblins had just done perhaps the worst thing possible. Far better to have made the most of their surprise appearance by charging the dwarves in an unruly mob. With the dwarves grouped only a fraction of them would have been able to fire on the charging force for fear of hitting their own riders. The Baasgarta, armed with lances and hand-weapons would have massacred the dwarves once they got among them. Instead by virtually stopping their advance to form lines they allowed the dwarves to form their own lines and meet them with their entire combined fire.
That, thought Engvyr, was a serious mistake.
It had been decided that they would stand and receive the charge rather than trying to maneuver against their foes. Given how poorly they'd done so far today Engvyr thought that was a good idea. They had no lances and their wood-knives weren't a very good weapon for mounted combat. Better that they respond with their strength: accurate, disciplined fire. Once their lines were spread out the skirmishers demonstrated the main difference between their carbines and those of the rangers. On command they hit a release on the fore-stock and a nine-inch spring-loaded spike bayonet snapped into position.
The Baasgarta line began to advance at a walk. Their line wavered and seemed to ripple as they came. They're really not much better at this than we are! Engvyr thought with surprise. Either that or their carnivorous mounts simply did not respond with the precision that horses or ponies would. The thought of their mounts, the ulvgaed, made the ranger shudder slightly. He was not the only one thinking about them.
“Remember,” shouted Berryc, “Aim for the mounts! You don't want to be fighting them hand-to-hand!”
Engvyr was a veteran and had survived many a tough situation. But sitting here on his pony watching the inexorable advance of their foes was hard on the nerves. The Baasgarta were three hundred paces away now and still approaching at a walk. Two hundred and fifty and they were still walking. Engvyr could hear the ulvgaed snarling and issuing short barks. Two-hundred and twenty paces and the dwarves raised their weapons and aimed.
“What the hell are they doing?” asked Berryc, echoing Engvyr's thought, “They should be at a full charge by now!”
When facing an opponent armed with long-range weapons cavalry need to close the distance as quickly as possible to give the enemy less time to fire on them. But the Baasgarta were walking their mounts right into range. Lord and Lady, thought Engvyr, thank you for granting us stupid enemies!
At two-hundred paces the command was given and four hundred carbines spoke just as the Baasgarta finally began their charge. The result was chaos. Ulvgaed and riders fell in front of their comrades just as they lunged their mounts forward. Some fell over their downed troops. Others bounded high over the bodies of struggling, wounded ulvgaed and soldiers just in time for the second rank of skirmishers to volley. Engvyr braced the butt of the carbine against his hip and pulled the long lever that cocked the weapon. As he raised it to his shoulder for the next volley he could see injured ulvgaed snapping at their riders or at the others bounding over them.
The Baasgarta charge had devolved into a ragged mess but they kept coming on as individuals. The rangers slung their carbines and drew hand-axes or wood-knives as the Baasgarta hit the skirmisher’s line. Engvyr would rather have faced them on foot with the bayonetted long-rifle as he was worried that he would accidentally cut down his own pony instead of the enemy.
Then the Baasgarta were among them, stabbing with lances and cutting with falchions. The ulvgaed snapped, bit and struck with their hooves. The dwarves fought back with bayonets, wood knives and hand-axes. The goblins were more effective but were badly outnumbered and completely uncoordinated by the time they hit the skirmisher’s lines. They did a great deal of damage but hardly one in five smashed their way through the dwarven ranks and out the other side. The survivors of the disastrous attack fled and many more were cut down from behind by the dwarven guns.
Only two of the Baasgarta hit the rangers but inflicted only minor injuries before they were killed. The skirmishers had not fared so well. Something like three-hundred of the Baasgarta cavalry had hit their lines, killing over a hundred of the dwarves and wounding many more. Engvyr closed his mind to the blood, the dead and the sounds of pain as they tended the wounded as best they could. He knew many of the skirmishers from his time with the regiment but he deliberately kept his focus on the mission. There would be time enough for grief later.
When they finally moved on they left nearly a third of their strength behind. In the grim reckoning of war they had done well. The Baasgarta cavalry, which had nearly equaled their numbers at the outset, had effectively ceased to exist. But that would be cold comfort for the survivors when they had the leisure to reflect and grieve.
Though the actual fighting had taken only minutes the encounter cost them more than an hour and they pressed on at the best pace that they could manage. Nearing the gully where the dig was taking place they dismounted, slipping forward through the trees. Engvyr realized that he had not heard any blasting since early that morning and could hear no sounds of work in progress now. He felt a growing sense of dread as they drew nearer.
When they entered the gully they came to the edge of a logged area. The stumps provided good cover but they had to move with greater caution. Taarven held up his hand in a signal to stop. Engvyr repeated the signal before creeping forward to see.
There was a line of dwarves along the edge of the pit. All were dressed as the boy had been in a simple shirt that left their right shoulder exposed to show their brand and a pair of trousers. Some of them were weeping quietly, some looked serene or resigned. Others simply looked tired. Bored-looking Baasgarta were spaced out along the line, about one for every twenty to thirty prisoners.
The pair of rangers moved along parallel to the line, keeping out of sight. They could hear the faint sounds of others moving cautiously up behind them. Eventually they got to the line's final destination. A squad of Baasgarta stood at ease, chatting among themselves and keeping an eye on the line. A group of three stood at the very edge of the pit. Two of them grabbed the first dwarf in line and held his arms. The third goblin stepped behind him, slit his throat and the two holding his arms shoved him into the pit as they reached for the next dwarf.
Engvyr's mind shut down and he seemed to be observing rather than directing his own actions. He aimed carefully and gut-shot the goblin with the knife. He reloaded mechanically as he heard Taarven's carbine fire and one of the two grabbing the next dwarf pitched off the edge into the pit. All around him rangers and skirmishers rose and fired. The dwarven slave
s did not flee as their masters were cut down. They just cringed in place or simply stood staring at their rescuers in mute incomprehension. It was over in seconds.
But Engvyr knew that for him and probably for all of them, it would never be over.
Chapter Twenty Five
“Naturally the Baasgarta would not return the mine-slaves used in the Makepeace Valley to The Pit. They could not afford to have them reveal that there was a wider world, that the very basis of their beliefs was a lie…”
From the diaries of Engvyr Gunnarson
Engvyr watched as the commanders of the regiments stood at the lip of the pit talking quietly as darkness fell. The soldiers were setting up hasty camps nearby. They weren't digging in for the night as it was uncertain as to whether or not they would be staying, but it was a good opportunity for the troops to rest and have a hot meal. Engvyr and Taarven had little stomach for food after seeing the hundreds of dead in the pit.
The army had enough people schooled in the Old Tongue that they were able to speak with the slaves after a fashion. They told them that a massive sarcophagus had been unearthed that very morning. The Baasgarta had removed the contents and the bulk of them had departed, taking just enough of the slaves to carry the burden. A small contingent had been left to 'deal with' the remaining Braell.
The dwarves had sent the survivors back to their own crude shelters for the night. In a way their response to the rescue sickened him as much as the pile of bodies in the pit. As far as the pit-slaves were concerned Engvyr and the other dwarves were their new masters. They simply obeyed them without question. When the regiments arrived they had delivered food to the Braell and they had to order them to eat it.
Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman Page 18
