BTtNR - Book 3 - Chapter 043

The summons came on the afternoon of the fourth day.

Einar was in the training yard with Thorodd and Skardi, running through weapon drills to keep their muscles from getting stiff, when a young dwarf messenger appeared. The boy couldn't have been more than a hundred years old, his beard barely past his chin.

"Einar Sibbison? Quartermaster Stenri requests your presence. He says to bring your pack leaders."

"Where?" Einar asked, lowering his practice axe.

"The war room. Third level, eastern wing. I'll show you."

Thorodd and Skardi exchanged glances as Einar nodded to the messenger. "Give me ten minutes to gather everyone."

The boy bowed and hurried off.

"This is it," Thorodd said quietly. "Stenri's task."

"About time," Skardi replied, rolling his massive shoulders. "I was getting bored watching metal cool."

Einar found Osvif in their quarters, surrounded by ledgers and supply lists. Avitue was with her shield maidens in the adjacent room, working on shield formations in the limited space. Jepi and Vidar were playing dice with some of the younger Vikings, coins scattered across a makeshift table.

"Pack leaders," Einar called. "Stenri wants us. Now."

The transformation was immediate. Dice were abandoned, ledgers were closed, and weapons were checked. Within five minutes, all five pack leaders stood ready, expressions ranging from eager to wary.

They followed the young messenger through Kvellholl's passages, moving deeper into the mountain than they'd been before. The corridors here were wider, the stonework more refined. Rune-lights burned brighter, and Einar noticed more guards stationed at intersections.

The war room was impressive.

Circular, maybe sixty feet across, with a domed ceiling that had been carved to resemble the night sky. Stars had been inlaid with some kind of luminescent crystal, creating constellations that Einar didn't recognize. But it was the table that dominated the space.

A massive stone circle, easily twenty feet in diameter, its surface covered with what appeared to be a three-dimensional map of the surrounding territory. Mountains rose in miniature from the stone, valleys carved with perfect precision, and rivers marked with veins of blue crystal. Runes glowed along the edges, and Einar realized the map could probably be changed or updated with magic.

Stenri stood at the far side, his rotund frame leaning over the map. Beside him was Vrádni, the ranger captain's expression serious. A third dwarf Einar didn't recognize stood with them, this one wearing leather armor that had been stained dark and carried more weapons than seemed practical.

"Einar," Stenri said without looking up. "And your pack leaders. Good. Close the door."

Jepi pulled the heavy stone door shut, the sound echoing in the chamber.

"This is Varanda," Stenri said, gesturing to the unfamiliar dwarf. "She's one of our best scouts. Specializes in tracking and counter-ambush tactics."

The female dwarf nodded, her black eyes studying each Viking in turn. She was tall for a dwarf, maybe seven feet, with a braided beard that had been tied back with leather cords. Scars crossed her face and visible forearms, evidence of a life spent in dangerous work.

"Varanda has been investigating the problem I'm about to explain," Stenri continued. He touched one of the runes on the table's edge, and the map shifted. The view zoomed out, showing a broader region. A glowing line appeared, connecting two points. "This is the trade route between Kvellholl and our satellite settlement, Irondeep. Forty miles, mostly through canyon country. Rough terrain, but it's the only practical path for wagons."

"Used to make the trip twice a month," Vrádni added. "Supply caravans going out, ore coming back. Standard trade route, well-traveled, well-guarded."

"Used to?" Osvif asked, already making notes in his ever-present ledger.

Stenri's expression darkened. "Three caravans in the last two months. All attacked. All destroyed. Forty-seven dwarves dead, counting guards and merchants. Cargo stolen, and our wagons burned."

The silence that followed was heavy.

"What's hitting them?" Einar asked.

"That's the question," Varanda said, her voice gravelly. "It’s not goblins or trolls. I’m pretty sure it’s not standard bandits either." She touched the map, and red markers appeared along the trade route. "First attack happened here, at the narrowest point of Shadowpath Canyon. Ambush from above, coordinated assault. Guards reported attackers that were large, intelligent, using actual tactics."

"Second attack," Vrádni continued, pointing to another marker, "happened three miles further in. Different location, same result. Survivors said the creatures moved like shadows but hit like mountains."

"And the third?" Thorodd asked.

"No survivors," Stenri said flatly. "We found the wreckage two days after they were overdue. Every dwarf killed, every valuable item taken. They left the food, the tools, and even some of the trade goods. Only took metals, gems, and finished weapons."

Einar studied the map, seeing the pattern. "They're selective. They know what has value."

"Exactly," Varanda replied. "Which means they're intelligent. Organized. And they know our trade routes well enough to plan ambushes."

"Do you have tracks?" Vidar asked. "Any physical evidence?"

The scout's expression became grim. "We do. And that's where it gets interesting." She produced a piece of parchment from her belt and unrolled it on the table. The drawing showed a large and distorted footprint. "This is what we found at the second attack site. Twelve inches long, six inches wide. Toes like a troll, but the heel structure is all wrong. And the depth of the print suggests something weighing at least four hundred pounds."

"Hybrid," Avitue said immediately. "Some kind of crossbreed."

"That's our theory," Stenri confirmed. "Vrádni's rangers have been tracking rumors. There are stories of creatures in the deep canyons. Things that don't quite fit any known category."

"Karg-kin," Vrádni said, the word heavy with distaste. "Part troll, part giant, with human cunning bred in somewhere along the way. Rare, thank the ancestors, but when they appear..." He gestured to the red markers on the map. "This is the result."

"How many?" Jepi asked.

"Tracks suggest eight to twelve individuals," Varanda replied. "Led by something bigger. We found prints at the third attack site that were eighteen inches long. Whatever's leading them is massive."

Osvif was scribbling frantically in his ledger. "You said three attacks in two months. What's the timeline between attempts?"

Stenri consulted a scroll. "First attack was fifty-three days ago. Second was thirty-one days ago. Third was sixteen days ago. They're escalating."

"And you need the route secured," Einar said, not a question.

"Desperately," the quartermaster replied. "Irondeep needs supplies. We need their ore. But more than that, we can't let these creatures think they can prey on dwarven caravans with impunity. If word spreads that our trade routes aren't safe..."

"Other settlements will stop trading," Osvif finished. "Economic isolation."

"Exactly."

Einar studied the map, his mind already working through possibilities. The canyon terrain would favor ambushers. Heavy dwarven armor would be a disadvantage in that environment. But Vikings, with their lighter gear and pack tactics...

"What do you need from us?" he asked.

Stenri met his gaze directly. "Escort the next caravan through. Eliminate the threat. Make the route safe again."

"That's it?" Skardi asked. "Just walk through a canyon and fight whatever jumps out at us?"

"Nothing about this will be simple," Varanda said. "These Karg-kin are smart. They've defeated three heavily armed dwarven guard contingents. They know the terrain. They've chosen their ambush points carefully. And they're learning from each attack."

"What makes you think we'll succeed where your people have failed?" Thorodd asked. Not challenging, just practical.

Vrádni answered. "Because you fight differently. Dwarven tactics rely on formation, heavy armor, and maintaining a strong defensive position. But in those canyons, there is no good ground to hold. The enemy comes from above, splits formations, and turns our strengths into weaknesses."

"Vikings are mobile," Stenri added. "You use pack tactics. You're used to fighting outnumbered against larger opponents. And you have that resurrection magic, which means you can take risks we can't afford."

That last part stung a little, the casual mention of their deaths as a tactical advantage, but Einar couldn't argue with the logic.

"When does the next caravan leave?" he asked.

"Five days," Stenri replied. "Assuming you accept the task."

"We'll need to scout the route first," Einar said. "See the terrain, examine the attack sites, maybe get a look at these Karg-kin."

"Already planned for," Varanda said, a slight smile crossing her scarred face. "I can take a small team tomorrow. Show you the Shadowpath, the ambush points, everything we know."

"Good." Einar looked at his pack leaders, reading their expressions. Osvif looked concerned but calculating. Thorodd appeared grimly determined. Avitue was already planning, he could see it in her eyes. Jepi seemed almost eager, and Skardi just looked ready for another fight.

We're Vikings. Fighting impossible things is what we do.

"We accept," Einar said. "But I have conditions."

Stenri raised an eyebrow. "Name them."

"First, we scout before we commit to a plan. Second, we decide our own tactics. Your guards can come with the caravan, but they follow our lead in combat. Third, if we discover the threat is beyond our capabilities, we pull back and regroup rather than throwing lives away."

"The third condition worries me," Stenri said. "We need this route secured."

"And you'll get that," Einar replied. "But I won't sacrifice my warriors on a suicide mission. We'll find a way to win, but we do it smart."

The quartermaster and ranger exchanged glances. Finally, Stenri nodded. "Agreed. All three conditions."

"Then we have a deal." Einar extended his arm.

Stenri gripped it, dwarf and Viking sealing the bargain. "The caravan will be ready in five days. That gives you four days to scout and plan after tomorrow's reconnaissance."

"We'll need supplies," Osvif said, already thinking ahead. "Climbing gear, maybe. Extra rope. Weapons suitable for fighting in confined spaces."

"Make a list," Stenri replied. "I'll see it's provided."

Varanda stepped forward. "Meet me at the eastern gate tomorrow at dawn. Bring whoever you want for the scouting party, but keep it small. Six at most. We'll be moving fast and quiet."

"Understood," Einar said.

The meeting continued for another hour, going over maps and survivor accounts. The more Einar learned, the less he liked it. The Karg-kin were methodical, intelligent, and brutal. They'd adapted their tactics after each attack, learning from dwarven defensive strategies.

But they haven't fought Vikings yet.

Finally, Stenri dismissed them. As the pack leaders filed out, Vrádni caught Einar's arm.

"A word," the ranger captain said quietly.

They waited until the others had left, then Vrádni moved to the map table, touching a rune that darkened the room's lights slightly.

"What you're not being told," he said, voice low, "is how scared my people are. Three caravans lost means more than dead guards and stolen cargo. It means our supply lines are vulnerable. It means there are creatures out there smart enough to hurt us where it matters."

"You think there's more to this than bandits," Einar said.

"I think someone or something is organizing them. Karg-kin are usually solitary. Violent, yes, but they don't work together. Not like this." Vrádni's expression was troubled. "This feels coordinated. Purposeful."

"You think someone's targeting the dwarves specifically?"

"I don't know. But I wanted you to understand what's really at stake here. This isn't just about securing a trade route. It's about proving that the dwarves can still protect themselves. That we're not so weakened that any hybrid scum can prey on us with impunity."

Einar nodded slowly, understanding the deeper current. "Pride."

"Survival," Vrádni corrected. "In these realms, the two are often the same thing."

The ranger left, and Einar stood alone in the war room, studying the map and the red markers that showed where dwarves had died.

Five days to plan. Four days to scout. And then a walk through a canyon where three caravans had already been destroyed.

Just another day in the dwarven realm.

***

The pack leaders gathered in the Vikings' quarters an hour later, spreading out across the main room. Word had already spread through the warband, warriors clustering nearby to hear what their leaders had to say.

"Right," Einar began, standing near the window where everyone could see him. "You've all heard by now. Stenri's task is to secure a trade route. The problem is the Karg-kin. Nothing like knowing you're facing a hybrid creature that’s intelligent, working in groups of eight to twelve, and led by something big."

"Define big," Skardi asked.

"Eighteen-inch footprints," Thorodd replied. "So probably twelve to fifteen feet tall, based on proportion."

A few Vikings whistled. Hogni, one of their best scouts, raised his hand. "What's the terrain?"

"Canyon country," Einar said. "Narrow passes, high walls, multiple ambush points. Terrible ground for heavy infantry, perfect for hit-and-run tactics."

"So perfect for us, then," Jepi said with a grin.

"In theory," Osvif countered. "But they've successfully ambushed and destroyed three dwarven caravans. These aren't mindless beasts. They plan. They adapt. They learn."

The mood sobered slightly at that.

"Tomorrow I'm taking a small team to scout," Einar continued. "Thorodd, you're with me. Osvif, I want you there to assess supplies and logistics. Hogni for tracking. Who else?"

"I'll go," Avitue said. "I want to see the terrain where we'll be fighting."

"Five then, plus Varanda. Good size for scouting." Einar looked around the room. "The rest of you, use the next few days to prepare. Check your gear, sharpen your weapons, and rest. Thorve, make sure everyone's fully healed. Ragna, if you've got any tricks that might help in an ambush, now's the time to prepare them."

"What about formations?" Vidar asked. "How do we guard a caravan in a canyon?"

"That's what we'll figure out after scouting," Einar replied. "But start thinking about it. We'll need mobile defense, probably multiple small groups rather than one large formation."

"Split the pack," Jepi said, nodding. "Some with the caravan, some ranging ahead and behind."

"Potentially," Einar agreed. "But we'll know more after we see the actual terrain."

"What's the bounty?" one of the younger Vikings called out.

Stenri hadn't actually specified, Einar realized. "Unknown. But clearing this threat is part of earning the alliance. The real payment is proving we can work with the dwarves."

"And not dying," Skardi added helpfully.

"That too."

Questions continued for another thirty minutes, warriors wanting details about the Karg-kin, the canyon, the caravan itself. Einar answered what he could and promised more information after the scouting run.

Finally, the gathering dispersed. The warriors returned to their tasks, conversations, and preparations. Einar found himself alone with his pack leaders once more.

"This is going to be messy," Thorodd said quietly.

"Everything we do is messy," Avitue replied. "At least this time we know it's coming."

"Do we, though?" Osvif tapped his ledger. "Three attacks, three different locations, three different tactics according to the survivor reports. These Karg-kin are unpredictable."

"Then we'll be more unpredictable," Jepi said. "Fight chaos with chaos."

Vidar shook his head. "That's your solution to everything."

"It works, though."

Despite the tension, Einar found himself smiling. His pack leaders were ready. Different approaches, different strengths, but all committed to finding a way to win.

"Get some rest tonight," he said. "Tomorrow we see what we're really up against."

As the others left, Skardi lingered. "You're worried," the giant Viking said.

"I'm always worried," Einar replied. "But yes. Something about this feels off."

"Vrádni's theory about someone organizing them?"

"That. And the escalation. Three attacks in two months, getting more frequent. That's not a random opportunity. That's building toward something."

Skardi was quiet for a moment. "You think they know we're coming?"

"I think they're smart enough to know the dwarves won't just abandon the route. Whether they know about us specifically..." Einar shrugged. "We'll find out."

"Well," Skardi said, moving toward the door, "at least it won't be boring."

Alone, finally, Einar moved to the window. Kvellholl spread out below, forges still burning from the smelting that continued day and night. Somewhere out there, in the canyons and wild places, Karg-kin were waiting, planning, and preparing for a possible easy meal.

Let them plan. We're Vikings. We've fought giants, trolls, wolves the size of bears. We've died and come back. 

A few hybrid creatures won't stop us.

But even as he thought it, Vrádni's words echoed in his mind. Someone is organizing them.

And that worried him more than the creatures themselves.

Tomorrow would bring answers. Or at least, it would get a better understanding of the questions.

For tonight, he would rest, prepare, and trust in his warriors to do the same.

Because in five days, they would walk into that canyon.

And one way or another, the Shadowpath would run red.