18th Moonstone, 353
Yngwie finished turning the coiled iron, dipping it into the bucket of thick lintseed oil to cool. That was the last of the giant corkscrew orders, so Yngwie rested her tongs over the raging vent and drew her sleeve across her brow, glancing over to Ousire busily skimming slag from the furnace. She frowned at the sound of one of Ousire's donkeys braying, waving to the smelter to get her attention. Ousire lifted her work mask and turned around to check on the donkey.
"Vabok," she called to the fretting beast. "What's the matter, you silly ass? What's-"
Ousire froze solid when she saw the dwarf standing in the passageway. Dressed in a mud-stained green uniform, her mind flashed back to the colours worn by the dwarves who had broken her family. The face of the dwarf before her was amongst them. When she saw the three pike-wielding goblins sneaking up behind, she screamed.
On cue Vabok kicked the foreign dwarf sharply in the chest and bolted for the entrance whilst the other donkey, Solon, reared at the three pikegoblins. Yngwie grabbed hold of the alarm cord on the wall and yanked, compressed air escaping through the fluted end and sending a resounding cry throughout the region. Ousire remained rooted to the spot, petrified as the dwarf grabbed her by the arm and the goblins drove a spear through Solon's leg, then his skull.
No time for the militia to arrive, raced Yngwie's thoughts. Only time for one of us to get out. She grabbed the white-hot tongs from the forge.
"Run, Ousie!" she yelled, turning to face the dwarf as Ousire broke his hold and ran for her life. She pointed at his face with the tongs. "You know, your chin's a little off," she growled. "Let me fix that for you."
Yngwie swung the tongs into the dwarf's chin with a heavy crack, setting his beard alight. As she pulled the tongs back for another swing, one of the pikegoblins stuck his weapon through her arm. Yngwie cried out in pain, dropping the tongs harmlessly as another spearpoint drove into her thigh. Ousire turned at the entrance in shock and horror and froze again. Yngwie stretched out a hand.
"Run!" she cried again, a spear blade slicing off one of her fingers and mangling the outstretched hand. Ousire broke into a run and Yngwie fell backward as the three goblins stabbed and stabbed until she moved no more.
The donkey Vabok ran in front of her mistress and kicked out at the goblins and the foreign dwarf as they tried to exit the armoury, receiving pikeblades to her flank for her troubles and buying Ousire enough time to reach the safety of the upper slopes. From there she watched events unfold.
The goblin scout leapt up to ambush the approaching militiadwarves, dagger brandished and ready for the kill. A flashing sabre took off her leg and a split second later a bolt whizzed through her chest. She tumbled harmlessly down the rock face as the militia ran for the armoury.
Datan reached the base first, bringing his axe through the guts of one of the three pikegoblins as they rushed across the open sands in pursuit of the fleeing smelter. One of Broose's bolts arched down from the hillside, throwing the goblin to the ground and snapping his neck with the impact. Jora broke into a dance as she reached the remaining goblins, spinning in an arc and gracefully decapitating the first speargoblin. She turned and cleanly sliced off the left arm of the second goblin at the shoulder, prompting a cry of pain. A second stroke took off the right arm. A third and fourth robbed the goblin of his limbs. Jora grinned at the soldier through her bloodied beard.
"Don't worry," she crooned. "It's only a flesh wound." A final stroke removed the goblin's eye, ear and throat, and she left him to suffer his final moments in the sand.
The dwarf ran for safety, another of Broose's bolts spearing through his hand as he raised it against the shadow blotting out the sun. Khain descended from the sky, double-ended spear driving through the dwarf's gut. Another of Broose's bolts ripped through the dwarf's already cracked face, shattering it. Khain tore the blade out of the dwarf's gut and he slumped to the ground in unconsciousness. Jora approached the prone figure.
"Want we should capture him?" she asked. Broose shook his head.
"Deserter, from the uniform. Don't recognise the unit. Not gonna live long anyway. Finish him, even a traitor deserves a clean death."
"Right you are, sarge." Jora thrust her sabre through the dwarf's chest, then turned to the smithy. Her face fell when she saw what lay inside.
"Sarge," she murmured. "You're gonna want to see this, but you're not gonna like it."
19th Moonstone, 353
"You sure?" asked Ragna, looking to the two dwarves stood over the body. Broose took a swig from a hip flask nearby.
"Hard to tell with the damage to the face," said Loksvig, "but I recognise the insignia. He's from our unit alright. Corporal, probably fought with him."
"I think that's probably Sigun," added Frey, studying the corpse. "Sigun Creaturerelic, aye. Not one of the best examples of a soldier I ever saw, not a big surprise if he defected."
"How'd he come to be leading goblins, then?" asked Ragna.
"Prob'ly just fell into it," grunted Broose. "War ends, guy has no other skills. What's a soldier got left? He can take up as a bandit and good luck with that, or he can find some other army as needs him."
"What are we going to do with the body?" asked Loksvig.
"Burn it," said Broose. "Deserters don't get burials, they don't get honour, and the filth joined a goblin army at that. We can't leave him to rot, but we're not soiling the rock here with him either, so set a pyre with some weeds and oil and let that be an end to him. Gigin can take him for all I care."
20th Moonstone, 353
The service over, the Nishans departed, Fath sat alone by the casket in the silent tomb. He ran his hand across the stone that a month before it had smoothed. He had added a few engravings over the previous day, trying to add a little decoration to the otherwise spartan chamber. It had seemed wrong somehow to consign the girl to a mere servant's chamber.
He traced his fingers over the inscription on the microcline;
Yngwie Mirrorcastles
288 - 353
and glanced to the two coffers containing the remains of Ousire's treasured donkeys. The smelter had stood through the service, fighting throughout to hold back her tears. She looked as if Gigin's own wrath burned like magma in her heart.
Fath sighed softly and stood, placing the tiny chalk boat upon the coffin. He kissed his fingers softly and pressed them to the cold stone, wiping his eyes. The mechanic did his best to smile and whispered to the coffin not to fear, that everything would turn out alright.
"We'll show them," he promised softly.
"We'll show them all."
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Topic: Olonkulet - Bloodlines (Read 62833 times)