The Stone Hills. Winter...
The morning is windy, more so than it has been recently. And the snow along the track whips up and swirls around the legs of the horses. With flakes coming up to hit the riders in their faces if they haven't covered them.
One of the lead riders points ahead to where one of the scouts is at the top of a rise, at the narrow mouth of a canyon. Those in the line following, look up at the sheer cliffs on either side of the track up at the top of the rise.
One of the lead riders has a word with the scout, who is pointing out something up ahead. The lead rider nods and waits for the others to crest the top of the rise. While the scout rides ahead into the canyon.
"What is it?" asks the officer in command of the formation "The scouts have spotted someone up ahead sir" says the lead rider "A dwarf?" asks the officer, who is in command of nearly a hundred and forty guards this morning. Hardly any of them pressed guards, which he's eternally grateful for.
"No sir" says the lead rider who continues with "Looks to be a human" the officer nods as one of his sub officers behind him says "Probably one of ours, by the gods we've found plenty enough of them over the last two days".
Ever since the attack against their army a few mornings ago, guards, support guards, and camp followers have been found throughout the nearby hills and mountains. As many of them fled in all directions by the early morning attack by the dwarven warriors whose clanhold they've invaded.
"Most likely" says the officer in command, an experienced guard, a man in his early thirties, from the city of Falnic "Onwards then" adds the officer in command.
The lead rider nods and enters the canyon, the rest of the force follow him, as they ride two abreast along the wagon track, that winds it's way around hills and mountains, roughly heading north into the clanhold.
Within the canyon, the sheer cliffs slightly tamper the strong wind. It's no longer blowing from all directions. Now it's gusting into their faces from the north, against the norm, as the wind throughout the Stone Hills, is predominantly from the south, and in particular the southwest.
As the commanding officer wipes snow off his face, and rewraps a dark red scarf around the lower half of his face. He sees the lead rider point ahead. There the officer in command spots the scout the lead rider spoke to. He's with another scout about seventy yards ahead of the column in a fairly straight stretch of the track.
They reach the two scouts who are just to the side of the track, and one of them says to the commanding officer "Just around the corner sir" followed by "On foot, heading this way".
The officer in command nods, and says "Let's go and have a look" they ride forward, and where the canyon narrows, and turns to the left, the commanding officer throws up a gloved hand for the following column of justifier's guards to halt.
After the narrow stretch of the canyon, it starts to widen out again. And the commanding officer who waves away snow in front of his face that's been blown up from the ground.
Looks up, and is once again able to see the mountain a few miles away to the east and north, that the prisoners they've caught, call the Lonely One. The officer in command then looks back down along the wagon track as it goes through the canyon infront of them, and he spots a figure in the distance making their way in this direction.
"Definitely not dwarven" quietly says the commanding officer who continues with "Too tall". The figure is in a dark cloak, and is limping. Staggering at times as they walk along the wagon track that's got a covering of snow across it, even here within the high walls of the canyon.
"Not our colours" says the scout, who continues with "Could be one of the mercenaries" the scout points and adds "There's a sword sticking out from under his cloak, bet he's wearing armour too".
When the person gets closer, they see he's got a bloody linen cloth wrapped around his head, covering part of his face. They also see he's quite young, maybe only thirteen years old, though he's tall for someone from Belinswae.
"One of the mercenaries, definitely not a pot boy, or horse hand" says the sub officer behind the commanding officer, he then adds "Could be a squire to one of the those knights".
The officer in command nods his head in agreement. For he knows that even the squires to those small number of knights in their army. Are as good in combat than most of the experienced guards, no matter how young they are.
"Any of you recognise him?" asks the commanding officer "Can't tell with that bandage across his face" says the lead rider, the two scouts nod in agreement with that, and with the lead rider saying "Most likely one of the knights squire's, they're all tall and big, and that youngster there is already taller than most of us".
The officer in command agrees with that assessment, for a few of the knights in the justifier's army they serve in are six foot tall, and taller. Much taller and bigger than most if not all of the guards and officers. As people from the region of Belinswae tend to be average height to short.
They see the figure on the track ahead of them, look up as he's been looking down as he walks. He blinks in surprise, then he lifts a gloved hand in greeting, and goes to rush forward. He staggers a few steps and stumbles forward, and falls to his knees.
"Go and help him" orders the officer in command, the lead rider and one of the scouts dismount, and move forward to help the wounded youngster who is trying to get up off the snowy ground.
"Someone's over acting" dryly murmurs Lisell Maera as she looks down into the canyon. "Think the lad is doing a stellar job" murmurs Jarka Mard as he lies beside the teenage orphan from the city-state of Brattonbury in the Southlands "Wonder where he learnt to act like that?" adds the youngest son of the chieftain of clan Mard.
You definitely don't want to know, Lis thinks to herself in a dry tone, for she knows the dwarven warrior wouldn't like the answer. For Tamric Drubine has learnt how to act and deceive from being around Dorc da Orc. An ork, who like all orks, are the eternal enemies of the dwarven race.
Not that the dwarves of the Stone Hills actually think that orks are real. As they see their mortal enemies as legends from a far off icey wasteland at the bottom of the world.
Lis knows that they would be shocked to know that there's actually an ork only a couple hundred miles away or so to the south in Belinswae.
An ork, who for good reason, is being kept away from the war that's happening here in the Stone Hills.
"They've got the lad" murmurs Jarka Mard as they watch two of the justifier's guards, help Tamric Drubine up, and hold him up as they walk him to those at the front of the column that's stopped down in the canyon.
Lis and Jarka look over to the opposite side of the canyon from them. Where up a snow covered peak, they see a small number of the war party, also watching what's happening down below. While most of the others, are over here on this small mountain that they're that the two of them are on.
"By those gods of yours, i hope this works" the Southlander murmurs to the dwarven warrior from clan Mard beside her "Aye so do i" murmurs Jarka Mard who continues with "Even if it dunny not work, it'll still work if you take my meaning" he pauses for a moment, before he adds in a slightly dry murmur "Just that the lads over their would of blown themselves up good and proper if that happens".
"What's your name son?" asks the commanding officer, the youngster murmurs something and points back the way he's come and says through chattering teeth "Others" he then adds "Guards" he stands there shivering as he continues with "Dwarves too".
"He's freezing" says the scout who is helping the youngster to stand, the lead rider nods in agreement "Get him on a horse, he can ride with someone" says the officer in command.
A horse blanket is wrapped around the shoulders of the youngster, who after the scout asks him "How's that head off yours?" and he replies with "It's just a scratch" he's helped up onto a horse, up behind one of the other lead riders.
"He's freezing alright" says the guard who now has someone sitting behind him, holding onto him, the officer in command nods as he looks at the wounded youngster, and he asks him "Where you from son?".
"South" replies Tamric Drubine, which is true enough, then quickly remembering something from his time in the city of Falnic, he adds "Been staying at the Shining Sword chapter house in Falnic since my lord and i traveled north".
"A few of them in the army" quietly says the sub officer, who nods at the shaking youngster, and adds "Couple of the knights are unaccounted for since the attack the other morning".
The officer in command nods in agreement, he's of the opinion that the knights aren't exactly lost. The predawn attack the other day was just an excuse for them to go ahead of the army to attack the enemy on their own.
"How many of the guards are up ahead squire?" asks the commanding officer "Half a dozen sir" says the youngster, who then adds "They were wondering around the hills lost" he pauses as he shivers for a moment, then he says "Couple of them are wounded".
"We better get them then" says the officer in command, who then nods for the scouts to move ahead, then he raises a gloved hand, and waves the rest of the column forward.
As they get underway, the commanding officer asks the young squire "And the dwarves?" the youngster, replies with "We spotted a small war party of them just north of this canyon yesterday afternoon" he then adds "My lord went to draw them off, so i could head south and find the army".
"Draw them off, more like fight them" is what the commanding officer hears the sub officer riding behind him dryly say, the officer in charge slightly nods, as the hired knights tend to attack the enemy without provocation. Who tend not to take prisoners, which the justifier whose army they serve in, wants. As he wants as much information about them and their clanhold as possible.
As they ride through the canyon, the officer in command asks the squire from the order of the Shining Sword a few more questions, then he turns and tells his sub officer "Send a messenger back to tell them what we've found" he looks up into the fairly clear sky, and adds "And tell them to send a damn wyvern up here to us, it's clear enough this morning for them to fly".
"The riders are probably moaning and bitching again that it's too windy for them" dryly says the sub officer, the commanding officer sourly smiles as he nods in agreement "Too windy for them, but not the wyverns" says the officer in command, the sub officer nods in agreement, then turns and orders a guard back to the main force of the army, to tell them what's happening.
After the messenger heads back south through the canyon, the commanding officer is just about to ask the hired squire something, when the youngster, who isn't shaking and shivering so much now, says "What's that up there?" he nods up at the sheer cliff wall to the right.
One of the scouts has spotted it too, and he says "Movement" followed by "Lookouts for the enemy no doubt". "Well they know we're here now" quietly says the officer in command, who then orders "Right pick up the pace" they start moving at a trot, instead of the walk they were previously traveling at.
As the guard whose horse he's on looks up again towards the sheer canyon wall to the right, Tamric Drubine takes his dagger from beneath his cloak, leans into the back of the guard, wraps his right arm around him, and quickly runs the dagger across his throat.
As the justifier's guard clutches at the fatal wound, Tam shoves him out of the saddle, the guard hits the snowy ground as blood squirts from between his fingers. The nobleborn youngster from the kingdom of Sarcrin in the Southlands puts his heels into the side of the horse, which takes off at a run.
Moving forward, and ducking low in the saddle, as he hears the shouts of exclamation from behind him. Tamric Drubine winces and hopes he doesn't get an arrow or a bolt in his back for his troubles.
Then he winces again as he hears a thud, followed by a second, a third and a fourth from up above to the right, the thuds echo down through the canyon. Then he hears the shouts from the justifier's guards behind him who are looking up, and are seeing what's happening.
Tam urges the horse for more speed as he rides low to it's neck, he doesn't bother looking up to see what's happening, he has a fair idea what's exactly happening. And besides he can actually hear it.
Four small barrels of blast powder have been lit, causing an avalanche. And a wave of snow has come down the peak to the east, seeding snow, ice and rocks, tumbling down into the near two hundred foot deep canyon.
A couple of the dwarven warriors who were amongst those who lit the fuses to the blast powder kegs, were too slow to get away. And they too tumble down the side of the mountain, and fall to their deaths in the canyon.
The losses from the dwarven war party led by Tamric Drubine are small compared to the column of justifier's guards in the canyon, who are hit by the avalanche of snow, ice and rocks that rains down on them.
The front half of the column, including those who were chasing after Tam are squarely hit by most of the avalanche that rains down into the canyon. They're crushed by hundreds and hundreds of tons of ice and rock debris.
While those further back are pelted by the falling ice, snow and rocks, many of those not killed back there, are badly injured, or buried in the mountain of snow that's fallen down into the canyon. Very few in the near hundred and forty man column get away with no injuries, or they and their mounts aren't buried in snow.
Tamric Drubine rides through a cloud of snow that's billowing out from behind him, the nobleborn youngster who hopes he doesn't get hit by any flying ice or rocks. Barely rides free of the avalanche that's fallen into the canyon behind him.
Tam eventually brings the horse to a stop, and he looks back through the snow that's like a cloud in the canyon. He waits a while as it settles down, and he sees that the canyon is now blocked, with snow and ice up to twenty five, even thirty feet in places.
The nobleborn youngster who is in charge of the war party of dwarven warriors, from three different clans now. And whose plan it was to attack this column of enemy riders.
Gets underway again, taking off the bandage from around his head, as makes his way to join the others, who he knows are now making their way down off the two peaks that are on either side of the canyon . . . . . .
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