Masters of Stone and Steel - Gav Thorpe & Nick Kyme

by Warhammer

  Nobody said anything for a few moments and it seemed consensus was reached. Stofrik stood up and smoothed his beard with a gauntleted hand.

  ‘We leave at first light, and take nothing that we don’t need,’ he said sternly. ‘No barrows, just packs. If you can’t take it, spoil it. I’m not having greenskins eating our grain and drinking our beer.’

  ‘You mean we’re leaving the beer?’ Fleinn looked more appalled by this idea than the notion of a hundred thousand orcs falling upon them in the night. ‘All of it?’

  Stofrik answered with a wordless glare. Fleinn’s shoulders slumped and he shook his head, muttering curses upon the heads of orcs and goblins. With nothing more to say the company broke up, the clans and families heading back to their chambers to gather up what they could. Word was passed to the dwarfs still manning the walls and replacements were sent out later to allow them to make their own preparations.

  Haldora found herself on the roof of the citadel with Nakka and Durk, watching the wolf riders.

  ‘Looks like they’re giving up,’ said Durk. ‘Haven’t seen anything of them for a while.’

  ‘Maybe they moved up the valley,’ said Haldora. ‘Ahead of us.’

  ‘Let’s hope not.’ Nakka leaned on the parapet, axe in his hands. ‘With orcs behind, we can do without goblins ahead. They’ll slow us down.’

  ‘They’ll stick close to the fortress,’ said Durk. ‘Goblins ain’t too bright, are they? They can’t know where we’ll be heading next, can they?’

  Haldora was not so sure, but her goblin knowledge was by no means extensive, and mainly relied upon stories Awdhelga had used to tell her. She moved closer to Nakka, feeling emboldened by his presence. He noticed and responded, nudging an arm against hers, grateful for the moment of contact.

  They waited in silence, standing the last watch until dawn.

  Flames licked up the side of the beacon tower before igniting the tarry alchemical mix filling the bowl on top. The beacon ignited with a blaze of blue fire that lit the mountainside and sent a ball of screaming flames high into the dawn sky.

  With two simple words, Stofrik ordered the garrison to leave.

  ‘Let’s go.’

  The gates were closed and locked and the group of dwarfs headed up the valley back towards Ekrund. The womenfolk and youngsters were kept safe in the middle of the column, surrounded by a ring of axe- and hammer-wielding warriors. Skraffi took his place beside Gabbik and despite her mother’s protests Haldora joined them near the front of the group.

  It did not take long for the goblin raiders to notice that the dwarfs had quit their fortifications. Their war horns screeched from one side of the valley to the other, summoning numbers for the chase. There was no chance of outpacing the riders, so the dwarfs stuck close together, away from the track, picking their way over broken ground that would be harder for the mounted goblins to traverse.

  As the grey dawn stretched up the slopes of Mount Bloodhorn the goblins could be seen more clearly, slinking through the stunted trees and past tumbled boulders. Now and then a group of them would come closer, loosing darts from their short bows into the midst of the dwarf column until crossbow bolts and dwarf iron-tipped arrows drove them out of range again. These salvoes did not do much damage but they were distracting, and they were a constant threat to the young and female dwarfs who had no armour.

  This harassment continued for much of the morning. Those wolf riders not armed with bows rode ahead of the dwarf advance. They could be seen on the mountainside ahead, keeping just out of range. A few dwarfs tried to give chase with their bows but Stofrik ordered them back and told them to save their ammunition.

  It was impossible to stop and make a fire so they ate on the march, gnawing at cold meat, pickled eggs and stonebread. Mid-morning, Stofrik called for a brief stop while water was passed around. Skraffi looked back down the trail and stopped, dumbfounded, waterskin half-raised to his lips.

  A column of red and black smoke billowed from the beacon fire, as plain as the sun, streaming across the wildlands on the prevailing winds. He had expected that, but not what lay beyond.

  It was as if the wildlands had turned black. Smoke from the fires of the night before smeared the horizon as far as he could see and the grasslands were swarming with dark figures. Like a carpet of filth the orc horde was spreading towards the mountains. Though it was hard to make out any details this far away, Skraffi could see larger figures lumbering amongst the horde: trolls by the dozen, and even bigger still came a handful of giants easily seven or eight times taller than an orc. Winged shapes, three of them, circled above the army, at this distance looking like flitting bats but Skraffi knew in reality they were massive beasts.

  ‘Wyverns,’ he muttered. The orcs had encountered the half-drakes when they had settled the mountains, driving them from their cave nests in the peaks. Wyverns were smarter than beasts, though not nearly as intelligent as real dragons, and they had become natural allies of the greenskins that had also been so diligently driven from their rocky dwellings.

  ‘We best keep moving,’ said Gabbik. ‘If one of those comes after us we’ll be done for.’

  Gabbik stepped away, shouting for Stofrik and others. Skraffi heard Haldora taking in a sharp breath.

  ‘What’s up, Haldi?’

  ‘More riders,’ she said, pointing east. ‘In that gorge there.’

  Skraffi looked, shielding his eyes against the morning sun. Sure enough there were wolf riders almost parallel to their advance, trying to sneak along a gulley that followed almost exactly the same course as the trail; in the winter that gulley was a stream that had once supplied Undak Grimgazan. Skraffi put his fingers to his lips and let out a long whistle and then jabbed a finger towards the flanking riders when he had the attention of Gabbik and the other thanes. There was much beard wagging at this news.

  ‘Good eyes,’ he told Haldora.

  It was not long before word came to keep moving. There would be no more stops until they came to the outer reaches of Ekrund. Knowing it would be a long day the dwarfs set their shoulders and marched on, not wasting breath with idle talk.

  Dwarfs are creatures of the earth and prefer their feet to be on solid ground, or preferably under it. They breed small ponies and hardy donkeys to pull pit carts and to carry other burdens too much even for dwarfs to bear, but they refuse to ride another beast. Skraffi had therefore spent nearly half a millennium walking everywhere and as midday came and went and the trail steepened he barely felt the effort, though he was past his prime. He had marched all the way to the Grey Mountains and back during the war, and many other places beside.

  He could see that Haldora was not faring quite so well. Her young legs still needed toughening up and there was a set to her face, not quite a grimace, that spoke of growing determination to ignore something, most likely an ache in her calf muscles.

  She would never say anything, of course. First and foremost she was a dwarf and dwarfs did not complain about physical hardship. They rarely complained about anything, except the weather, prices, thin ale, beardlings, greenskins, elves and cold stews. And each other. Skraffi was not going to ask either. He had too much respect for Haldora to intimate that he might think she needed help. Skraffi was a rogue at times, but even he knew where the line was drawn regarding proper decorum around womenfolk.

  As if common dwarf reserve was not enough, Haldora was even more stubborn than most on such matters. Skraffi had never known a maiden who was so determined not to act like one, and he had been married to Awdhelga. What Haldora didn’t understand, and Awdhelga had known very well, was that quite often an over-abundance of obvious strength would easily be confused with a hidden weakness. Awdhelga had never been ashamed of being female, but that seemed to be the lesson Haldora had learnt.

  Looking at his grand-daughter now, red-cheeked, eyes fixed ahead, Skraffi knew she was trying not only her best but more than that. She was trying too hard, and there was a word for dwarfs like that: ufdi. A vain and p
reening individual.

  He knew she was nothing like that at all, but there was a danger that if she kept pushing so hard to be someone she wasn’t then she would get the wrong sort of reputation. He had watched her in the fighting with the wolf riders and Nakka had taught her well, but he had also seen the way she had become pushy when they were discussing when to leave the fortress. That sort of behaviour did not win friends.

  Now was not the time to mention it, though, and Skraffi was left to stew in his thoughts as they reached level ground. He stepped aside for a moment, stretching his back, and turned to look back at the wildlands. If he squinted he could just about see the bastions at Undak Grimgazan. The leading edge of the orc horde – greenskins riding boars and chariots moving ahead of the rest of the army – were already there.

  He felt someone come up beside him and glanced to his left to see Nurftun.

  ‘They’re not hanging about, are they?’ said the other dwarf.

  ‘It’s worrying,’ admitted Skraffi. ‘They’re covering ground like they want to get somewhere.’

  ‘Something’s got into them. This is more than just looking for somewhere new to live. ‘Tis an attack, sure as the sky is blue.’

  Although never in doubt, Skraffi couldn’t help but to glance up. Grey clouds were gathering above the mountains but over the plains the sky was indeed still blue. He also noticed that one of the wyverns had broken away from the main body of the horde and was climbing higher, heading directly towards the valley.

  ‘I smell trouble,’ he said, indicating the wyvern to Nurftun.

  ‘Not good, not good at all, my friend. We better up the pace, I don’t fancy that big beggar catching up with us before nightfall.’

  Word of the wyvern quickly spread through the column, greeted by rumbles of consternation and dirty looks. Children were lifted onto shoulders and packs were lightened even further, leaving a trail of tankards, bread, small pots and pans, hams and other weightier items in the wake of the group. Soon everybody was puffing and panting as the late summer sun beat down relentlessly on the mountainside.

  As the pace increased so did the separation of the group. Gabbik and the thanes set a hard speed from the front and there were some hard-pressed to keep up. Skraffi and some others fell back to bring up the rear, urging on the dawdlers with scowls and sharp words. Despite their best efforts the column was drawing out, and Skraffi could almost feel the wolf riders coming closer, sniffing with interest as the group became more tired and ragged.

  Many of the goblins had disappeared after midday, no doubt seeking water and shade. They knew where the dwarfs were going and could easily catch up. Others had disappeared ahead on whatever mischief they had planned. Skraffi tried his best to keep watch but now the effort of simply forging over the uneven ground took most of his concentration, as it did the others. He did, however, keep finding time to glance over his shoulder to see if the wyvern was still coming after them.

  It was.

  Sweat slicking his face and soaking his beard, Skraffi gritted his teeth and forged on. Now and then he caught up with a mother or beardling who had stopped for a breather. He’d give them a slap on the behind or an encouraging hand on the shoulder as he saw fit, and urge them on again. It was a relief when they finally crossed over the shoulder of the valley and back onto the track, catching a wind coming down from the peaks that brought much-needed relent from the dry air.

  Late in the afternoon the back of the group caught up with the front. Stofrik, Gabbik and the others had stopped. A few hundred paces ahead the valley became more of a gorge, the sides steepening sharply, tumbled boulders littering the floor to either side. Skraffi joined them to find out what was causing the delay.

  ‘And I say there’s no way around,’ said Gabbik. ‘We’ll be scattered all over the place if we try to climb, and the nearest other trail is back a ways. Too far to double back.’

  ‘What’s the problem?’ asked Skraffi.

  ‘Goblins, what else?’ Stofrik pointed his axe up to the heights of the chasm and Skraffi could see small shapes moving along the top. They seemed to be rolling stones and rocks to the edge.

  ‘Ambush?’ he said.

  ‘They’ll drop rocks on us and finish us off,’ said Vadlir.

  ‘Or block the pass entirely,’ said Gabbik. ‘The longer we stand here grumbling, the more time they have to prepare their trap. We need to push on through as quick as we can.’

  ‘And just take our chances? What about the womenfolk and the little ones?’ asked Farbrok.

  ‘I’m sure the wolves won’t be picky,’ snapped Gabbik. ‘Goblins with rocks is better than goblins on wolves.’

  ‘And a wyvern,’ added Skraffi. ‘I think my lad’s right, we have to push through as quick as we can. There’s woods up on the north-western slope, we’ll fare better in there than on the open mountainside.’

  Together the other dwarfs looked south, judging how far away the wyvern was. Too close, by their expressions.

  ‘I don’t like it, but it seems we haven’t got no choice,’ said Stofrik, grimacing. ‘Now is it better to put the weaker folks through first, before them goblins have got their aim in, or do we lead the way and hope they run out of rocks lobbing them at us?’

  ‘Maybe we can over-think this one,’ said Gabbik. ‘I say we all just put our heads down and run. Those with shields do their best to protect those without.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Stofrik. ‘We’ll break into threes and fours, best we can, not to give them too large a target to aim at.’

  The dwarfs were gathered together and then broken into smaller groups for the dash through the gorge. Skraffi wasn’t too sure on his geography round these parts but his dim recollections told him the chasm wasn’t any more than two or three hundred paces long before it flattened and widened out again. He was joined by Gabbik, Friedra and Haldora.

  ‘We’ll make a roof with our shields,’ he said, nodding to Gabbik.

  ‘I’ve got a shield too,’ said Haldora. ‘Why don’t you ask me?’

  ‘This isn’t the time, Haldi,’ said Gabbik.

  ‘Why not? My shield’s just as good as your shield, isn’t it?’

  ‘No,’ snapped Skraffi, his patience worn thin by the events of the last couple of days, ’it isn’t. You’re tired, nearly falling over. You need all your energy for your legs.’

  Haldora looked as though he had slapped her across the face. She stood in open-mouthed disbelief, staring at him.

  ‘Look after your mother,’ said Gabbik. ‘We’ll look after you.’

  Haldora was stunned and made no more protest as they joined the line of dwarfs getting ready to push on into the gorge. There were nine or ten families in front of them, all of them eyeing the tops of the crags to either side with suspicion. Skraffi looked back once more. The wyvern was past the fortress at the base of the mountain now, he was sure of it. The wind was in their favour, but it would be on them by the early evening.

  ‘Let’s just get going,’ he shouted, waving his axe at Stofrik. ‘We need to get to the woods!’

  The first dwarfs broke into a run, raising their shields as the valley narrowed. The next group set off before the first had reached where the goblins were lying in wait. As the first group came level with the narrowest part of the gorge pebbles and fist-sized rocks started to shower down. Skraffi hadn’t appreciated just how many goblins had been waiting. There had to be three or four score of the horrid little creatures.

  They followed up the valley as family after family set off and soon enough it was their turn. Skraffi shared a look with Gabbik and they broke into a run, herding Friedra and Haldora between them, keeping their pace steady but sure.

  ‘Watch your footing,’ Skraffi managed between puffed breaths. ‘If anyone trips here we’ll be buried in rocks quicker than Fleinn downs his ale.’

  Larger boulders were rumbling down the slopes now, levered into position by teams of goblins. Arrows poured down too, splintering from the rocks and thudding i
nto the ground just a few paces away.

  Skraffi and Gabbik raised their shields as they reached the worst part. Stones rattled from above like hail and larger rocks bounced and spun past, ricocheting from each other as they rolled to a stop. Skraffi tried to have his eyes everywhere – on the ground, on the goblins, on the rocks and on the wyvern. Smaller stones were clattering from his armour and thudded into his upraised arm as the goblins pelted the running dwarfs with everything they could find.

  ‘Keep going,’ Gabbik snarled through gritted teeth.

  ‘Left! Left!’ shrieked Friedra. They veered without question, moving together, just in time to avoid a spinning chunk of rock bigger than any of them.

  There was a shout from behind, the sound of splintering wood and a cry of pain. Skraffi dared not look back.

  Soon the deluge of stones slowed and died away but they pressed on up the valley as fast as they could. The first dwarfs through had formed a tight circle near to a stand of trees, and had their weapons ready as a band of wolf riders closed in from the other side of the vale. The Angboks joined them, moving Friedra to the middle of the ring while the others bared their weapons at the incoming raiders.

  The wolf riders came charging in, mounts snarling and drooling, the riders shrieking and laughing. Skraffi pulled one of his throwing axes free – it was still bloodied from the fighting the day before. When the wolves were just a couple of dozen paces away he let fly, aiming at the largest. The axe sparkled in the sun as it spun, a few moments later burying deep in the wolf’s skull. It pitched over, tossing its rider to the ground as sling bullets and catapulted stones flew from the cluster of dwarfs at the other attackers.

  Skraffi pulled Elfslicer and waited for the charge. His whole body was tense and he loosened his grip on his axe, trying to relax, picking out which of the greenskins would come for him. At the last moment the riders veered away with hoarse screams of panic, yanking the reins, manes and ears of their wolves to steer them away. Skraffi risked a glance and saw a group of twenty or so dwarfs charging up the valley – enough to spook the wolf riders into retreating.