-East Warrens, Clan Marrow territory-
Ix scrabbled to the top of the rock ledges that afforded him a view of his primary objective.
These Eastern tunnels were far less hospitable than those of the North Warrens. The jagged rocks cut into his feet and he and his men had required great strength of both will and sharpness of eyes to see which crevices in the dark ground opened out into nothing but black abyss that stretched into the depths of the earth. It had taken them about a day's worth of traversal, and Ix had carefully had his men map the path back. Because when they returned through the tunnels back to the North, they would be running.
The reason for their speed was below the rock-ridge, ambling about a series of hastily constructed tents and fortifications.
A Dwarven camp.
Quite a sizeable one, Ix noticed as he and his men went prone, scanning over the lip of the ridge that would lead them into the East Warrens and Clan Marrow territory. Ix knew this to be true, because the corpses of the ratmen that he could see littering the ground between the Dwarven tents and little bonfires were many.
"There has been fight-fight recently," one of Ix's Yips observed.
"And Marrow rat-rats lost."
"It is as Shai-Alud Marcus is tell-telling," Ix whispered. "The Marrow rats die-die to Dwarves."
"Rats of Marrow are supposed to be tough-tough," another Yip yelped.
"They are," Ix replied. "But tough-tough is not enough against Dwarven guns."
He directed his squad's sight towards the chain-link fence perimeter of the Dwarves' camp. Beyond, a series of trenches had been dug, from which the long barreled rifles of the Dwarves gleamed in the dark of the Underkingdom. Ix could see the killing field that they had carved out of the dust and crags that spread out in front of them. Mountains of Clan Marrow dead littered the fields. It seemed that some of the rats had tried using their fallen comrades as meat shields. It also seemed that this strategy had done little but buy them a few more seconds before the Dwarven firing line had chewed their armor to pieces.
None of them had even made it to the trenches.
Ix shook his head. The Dwarves were few in number, even fewer than the ratmen – every Yip of the Underkingdom knew that. But what they lacked in numerical superiority they more than made up for in terms of their sheer firepower. Ix remembered what just one of their functional cannons under Boss Skegga had managed to do – and how it sounded. His little Kobold brain could scarcely imagine what an entire array of them would be capable of.
"Come," Ix said. "We will be taking closer look."
The Kobold squad slowly, with great care, began descending the ledge and getting as close as they could to the Dwarven ranks. As they moved like silent specters, well accustomed to the dark, they began to see the details that were important for their mission: it looked like the Dwarves were getting ready to make a push against the North Warrens. They were tidying up their camp, making ready to scale the great rock wall that hemmed in the Marrow tunnels. Looked like a force of about 500 men. Nothing compared to Boss Skegga's legions on their way South. But Ix reasoned that a single Dwarf probably counted for at least four Yips in strength. Double that if he held one of those big shooters in his hands.
Ix hoped his assessment was correct. The Shai-Alud's plan was counting on it.
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As Ix stopped his men behind a narrow overpass just above the army's position, he listened in to the speech that one of the little men was giving to a line of heavily armored, mean-looking troops. By the looks of the Dwarf – clad in silver-plated armor gilded and bearing the marks of several different blade strikes – Ix assumed this stuntie to be the commander.
"Ye know why yer here, ye bulging, mean, fur-bashin' bastards!" the muscly Dwarf was saying, his braided red beard flying around him with every shake of his head. "Yer here because we're the men who are chosen. We're the men who know that the war – the great war – doesn't stop here. It doesn't stop with the bloody weaklings of Marrow – Dulgaven spit on their furry assholes! It began with them, aye, but it will end with the death of Red-Eye. The wee bastards think we're distracted with our wee campaign in the East. Little do they know we're gonna march right into their doorstep while the Kobolds pick away at them. They fear the little yipping demons. I ask ye, men of Dulgaven, do you fear them?"
"NO!" the Dwarven troops howled.
"Do you fear the rats of Red-Eye?"
"NO!"
"Men of Dulgaven – what. Do. You. Fear?"
"NOTHING!"
"AYE!" the Dwarven commander shouted back, throwing spittle into his vanguard's eyes. "Fear is fer the hearts of children and cattle! Fear is nothing ta men made of stone. Men of Dulgaven – MEN OF THE EAST!"
"SEMPER-ROK! SEMPER-ROK!"
Ix listened with scholarly curiosity. He bet Shai-Alud Marcus would understand all these funny words better than he could. His mind was not a mind attuned to words and concepts. What he knew was power. And thus, he could understand that the leader's exhortations were powerful indeed – powerful enough to have a galvanizing effect on his men. It was what the Shai-Alud referred to as 'morale'. Even from up here, Ix could see their gauntleted fingers curl round their axes and broadswords. Meanwhile, the gun emplacements were almost fully detached from the trenches. The army would be moving out soon.
"Ok," Ix told his men. "Our times come-comes. And now we are knowing who to hit."
The other Yips gulped as one, looking at their leader with eyes filled with trepidation.
"A…are you sure-sure, Head-Yip Ix?" one asked as he produced his shortbow from behind his back. "What if Dwarves are not as dumb-dumb as the Shai-Alud is thinking?"
"He is not thinking they are dumb-dumb," Ix whispered back, nocking an arrow and aiming just below the Dwarf leader's furry helmet. "He is knowing they are hate-hating us. This is what makes them weak-weak."
Ix's arrow danced over the head of his target.
"Small, fat, and still-still," the Kobold smiled. "Nice-nice and easy."
"I, Corvaughn of House Darragut, shall be your beacon in the dark, lads!" the Dwarf Lord was saying. "Follow the light of me Warhammer, and watch the furry bastards of the North fall! Let them watch us climb their corpses to make Grindlefecht our home again! Let them tremble at the sounds of our guns! Semper-rok! SEMPER-RO-"
Ix's arrow found its mark in the Dwarf-Lord's shoulder before he could finish his fancy speech. The other Yips followed suit, each one bringing a hail of arrows down upon the dwarves who took cover behind their shields.
Not enough, Ix thought. They need to know-know it was us…
"AIIIIIE!" he squealed, encouraging his men to jump erratically in the pattern of the dance of Joy. "Dwarf-dwarfs are stinky! Stink-stink worse than ratmen of North! Now, Yips, back there we go-go to tell friends how stinky dumb-dumb dwarves are!"
And the Kobolds did not wait on their captain's command long. As soon as he finished his screeching the back of the rock ledge behind them was practically split open by the Dwarves long guns. The soldiers let up a collective cry of fury, and the weapons of every dwarf in the crags below were out in the next second.
"BLOODY YIPPING DEMONS!" Ix heard the Dwarf Lord bellow as he and his men made for the tunnels back home. "I'M GONNAE TEAR OOT YER INNARDS AND WEAR THEM AS A NECKLACE! I'M GONNAE DECORATE MY WALLS WITH YER BASTARD BLASPHEMOUS TONGUES! AFTER THEM! AFTER THEM!"
He has taken his wound rather badly, it seems, Ix thought. Sire Marcus, the dwarf-dwarf is angry like you thought. His army come-comes…
Ix led his men through the now crumbling tunnels, avoiding the shots fired by the remnants of House Darragut in hot pursuit.
Sire Marcus…IX thought as he and his men made their mad dash to Razork. I am hoping you know-know what you are doing…
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