Dragonhammer: Volume I (18 page)

“For what?” I ask.

“I’m not coming with you,” he says, almost shamefully.  “I should be out there fighting just as you are!  There’s no honor where I-”

I cut him off before he can get any farther.  “There’s plenty more honor in what you’re doing than what I’m about to do,” I interrupt.  “You have a wife.  You’ll have children soon.  If every man fights there will be no one left to teach their children.”

He nods.  “I suppose you’re right.  I’ll let you know when she’s pregnant, okay?”

“You’d better,” I reply.

“And in return you have to promise me you’ll come back,” he commands.  “Both of you.”

Nathaniel says immediately, “You will see me again.”

I tell him what I told our mother.  “I will return,” I pledge.

“I know,” he says.  Then he gives us each a final hug.  “Best of luck,” he says as he opens the door.  “Though I know you won’t need it.”  His smile is the last thing I see before he disappears into his home.

We turn and begin down the street towards the Keep.

Tales of Heroes

C
ommander Magnus wakes us early with assorted yells of profane things I would rather not reiterate.

We eat breakfast and then march from the Keep, through the streets of Terrace.  People open their doors and windows to see the warriors setting out to protect their lives and freedom.  Some of them throw flowers into the road in front of us.

We have managed to find a sheath of some sort for my hammer.  It’s more like a ridiculously long quiver than a sheath, with the head of my hammer sticking out above my right shoulder.  To unsheathe it all I have to do is grasp it just below the top and pull.  I do, however, need help to sheathe it again.  Throwing knives sit on my belt.

Supply carts roll in the back, each pulled by one or two oxen.  As soldiers we only carry our weapons and flasks of water.  Percival stands to my left, with Jericho on his other side, and James walks on my right.  Their fathers have opted to stay with their families.

The gates stand open for us.  We pass under the arch and onto the bridge, and then turn right to head south.  The terrain changes throughout the day.  We slowly come down the mountains and by midday we almost completely level out onto a plain.  Pine trees still stand everywhere, though they begin to thin.  Always the river runs to our right, though we are traveling upriver.

Then we get to the divergence, where the Tygnar River branches from the Fravora and runs almost directly east.  We have long since come out of the canyon, but the river is still much too wide to cross.  There is no need, however.  The crossroads has three directions:  west, over a bridge that spans the Fravora, which will eventually lead south and to Kera; directly south, over the Tygnar River and into the Kindred Forest; and east, which follows the river’s course all the way into the Ha’avjah Desert.  It is this path that we take.

At our head marches Commander Magnus, along with Jarl Hralfar.  He asked me to march at the head with him, but I refused, preferring instead to march alongside my friends.  He accepted.

We make camp shortly after the crossroads.

Everyone has an assignment.  Some put up tents, others begin cooking, and others oversee the whole project.  Having never set up an organized military camp before, I’m confused and watch for the first few minutes.

“What are you doing?”  It’s Magnus.  Of course.

“Hello Genevieve,” I say comfortably.  “Nice to see you too.”

“You’re funny, Kadmus,” she says.  “Why aren’t you putting up your tent?”

“Waiting to see where it goes,” I say without shame.  “Never set up a camp like this before.”

“I figured as much.  And yet I still can’t figure out why the Lord Jarl likes a worthless peasant like you.”

I let the insult roll off my back.  Percival seems to get more offended than I do, but he says nothing.

“That’s what I thought,” she says, walking away.  “Get to work!”

“I hate her.  So.  Much,” James seethes.

“There’s nothing we can do but deal with her,” I say softly.  “It’s our lot I suppose.”  Then I set about getting the tent up.

Camp goes up fairly quickly; it must only take us a half hour, despite the setting in the forest.  Then there are fires going as soon as the sun sets.

We use logs as chairs.  Dinner consists of a stew of some sort.  I try not to pay attention to what’s in it.

We share our campfire with several other soldiers.  Two of them look a little rough, like they’ve seen battle numerous times.  The others seem a little more innocent, but still are battle-worn soldiers.

One of them notices James’s sling and iron brace on his left arm.  “Where’d you get that?” he asks.

James isn’t as enthusiastic answering the soldier as he was answering the girl in Kera.  “Troll,” he says.

The soldier raises his eyebrows.  “How’d ya get away without him taking a bite out of you?”

“All thanks to them,” James says, pointing to his right, where both Percival and I sit.  Jericho sits on his left.

The soldier looks at Percival.  “You?”

“Don’t look at me!” says Percival.  “It was all this guy!”  He claps me on the back.  “One of the darn best knife throws I’ve ever seen.”

“You killed it with a knife?” asks another soldier.

“No,” I clarify.  “Just bought us time to grab James and get out.”

The soldiers are less impressed.  One of them looks at me with the glint of remembrance in his eye.  “But you killed another one, didn’t ya?”

I nod, looking into the fire.

“You were the chap on the wall!  You showed that troll the city wasn’t going to be so easily tooken!” he exclaims.  A couple of the other soldiers remember as well.

“The guy with the hammer!” says one.  “You gave that brute a wallop, didn’t you!”

“And that’s not the only one he killed,” adds James.  “Tell ‘em Kadmus!”

I shake my head and look at the ground with an embarrassed smile.  My cheeks are going red as my friends praise me and the soldiers go silent to listen.

Percival butts in, “I’ll tell them.”  Everyone looks to him.  He starts, “There was the one in the street, behind the gate.  You gave him a knife right in the skull when he charged you and floored him!”

“Then the one on the Keep,” says Jericho.  “That was amazing!”

“I didn’t know about that,” says James.  “Do tell!”

“I just got his attention and got him to charge me,” I interrupt.  “Then I hit him and he fell off the Keep.”

One of the guards has the hint of a smile on his face.  “And yet here you sit.”

“Not to mention Commander Tyrannus,” Percival puts in slyly.

“How do you even know that was him?”  Once again, Genevieve has managed to pop in at the right time.

I turn and look her in the eye.  “Excuse me?”

“How do I even know it was you that killed him?” she reiterates.

“You don’t believe?” I ask.

“I saw it,” says one of the soldiers.  “Took off the commander’s arm and smote him dead with his own sword!”

“I won’t believe what I can’t see,” she says angrily. Then she delivers the message she came to bear, “Get to bed soon.  We march as early as we are able.”

As she walks off most of the soldiers get up and walk into their tents.  I stay, and Percival stays with me.  Jericho and James walk into our tent.

The Jarl makes his way to our glowing fire.  He stands for a moment and then says, “Can I sit?”

“Of course,” I say, scooting over on my sideways tree.

He sits and says, “I don’t know if you know yet, but we’re going to Amgid.”

I nod.  “Things get around quick here,” I reply.

“And my offer still stands,” he says.

I shake my head.  “Magnus would rage.”

The Jarl agrees.  “Be that as it may, you shouldn’t let that govern your decision.”

“I haven’t.  It’s hard enough for me to be a soldier.  It would be harder still for me to lead.”

He hesitates.  “Very well.”  Then he rises and echoes Genevieve’s council.  “You should get to bed.  We have a march ahead of us yet.”

The next day we are completely out of the mountains and on a flat rocky plain much like the road to Kera.  The river carves a straight course east.

There are few trees.  To the right, across the river and a few miles south, we can see the Kindred Forest.

In the flat terrain we make good time.  By the end of the second day, we have almost reached the point where the Tygnar River begins to flow southeast.

My sleep is troubled that night.  I relive my father’s death in my dreams and start awake just before dawn.  I’m in a cold sweat and holding the knife I keep next to my bedroll.  Knowing I will not be able to get back to sleep, I rise and dress.

The morning is cold.  I wear my travelling cloak over the top of my armor, but it does little to warm me.  In the twilight I walk, thinking.  Reliving.  Thinking of what could have, or might have been.

Shortly, the army comes to life.

That day we follow the curve of the Tygnar River, which cuts through the Kindred Forest, and the road sticks close by.  We make camp just outside the forest.

That night, after dinner, I go off into the trees with my hammer on my back.  I stare around for a moment.  Then I unsheathe and heft my hammer, studying its head and spike.

Slowly I bring it up and hold it level with my shoulder, positioning the head carefully against the nearest tree.  Then I begin.

Rage begins to churn through me again.  Rage at Tygnar.  Rage at myself.  Rage at anyone to threaten me or my quest.

I remember my father.  I picture his face.  I will not forget it.  I cannot let myself.

I only stop when I hear someone behind me.

I turn and ready my hammer.  “Who goes?!”

The soldier stands and then I remember.  I’m in a forest next to our camp.  There are no enemies around.  Only friends.

I lower my hammer and walk briskly away.

“Did you really do what you say you did?” the soldier questions.

I stop.  Then I say darkly, “What do you think?”  My footsteps are harsh on the forest ground.

The forest is rocky, much like the plain that we just crossed.  The trees are not very tall, but they’re hardy and strong, and very dark green.  We stop around mid-afternoon.

“Here,” the Jarl says.  “Amgid is only a day’s march away.”

Some of our scouts run forward, to the city.  As far as we know, they have not discovered our army.  “How do you plan to breach the gate?” I ask the Jarl.

“Catapults,” he answers.  “Some soldiers and five catapults joined us from Kera at the crossroads.”

“Any ladders?” I ask.

“Not many,” he answers.  “I’m relying on our catapults to do the work for us.”

“Ah.  Is there anything I should know about Amgid?”

“It’s a military city.  It will be heavily guarded and difficult to breach.”

“Let me know when the scouts return,” I ask.  “If you would.”

He raises an eyebrow.  “For not being a captain you are acting a lot like one.”

I shake my head and repeat, “If you would.”

He nods and replies, “I can.  You are still my advisor.”

“Good.  I look forward to it.”

I walk to the tent I share with Nathaniel, Percival, James, and Jericho.  They are already there.

Nathaniel sits cross-legged on his bedroll, and I copy him on my own bedroll.  He pulls a weapon from his belt, over a foot long.  It takes a moment for me to recognize it because of the dim light, but the craftsmanship is unmistakable.

“That’s the knife I made for you,” I say.

He studies it, the blade glinting from the firelight outside our tent.  “Yes,” he murmurs.  Everything is quiet.

“I miss him,” whispers Nathaniel.  His lip begins to shake.

“Me too,” I respond softly.  “Me too.”

Nathaniel gets control of himself after the first tear falls.  Then he puts the knife away, rolls over, and tries to get some sleep.

“What made your fathers stay home?” I ask.  “It seems like we could use all the soldiers we can get.”

“Mine’s getting too old,” says Jericho.  “He himself said he had seen too many winters to go to battle.”

Percival answers, “My father stayed to be with my family.  I have many small siblings.  Mother would be lost without him.”

I accept their reasons with a nod when I hear James snore loudly.

The night is tense, but we sleep all that we can.

In the morning we eat and wait.  Early, a soldier runs through the camp and gets my attention.

“The scouts have returned,” he says.  “The Jarl sent for you.”

I hurry to the largest tent in the middle of the camp.  Nathaniel follows, but the others have stayed at our tent.  A guard opens the tent for me, but won’t allow Nathaniel inside.  My brother looks at me for help.

“It’s okay,” I say.  “Just wait here.”  He concedes and waits by the door.

Jarl Hralfar stands behind a small table, on which lies a detailed map of Amgid.  Genevieve stands on his left, next to the table.  Four men stand on the other side, and they seem slightly out of breath.

“Kadmus!” Hralfar greets.  “Good.”  I take the place directly across the table from him.  Then he looks at the four men and says, “You may begin.”

“There are many of them,” one of the scouts says at once.  “At least four times more than we had predicted.” 

The Jarl’s face contorts.  “How many?”

“They outnumber us three to one, sir.  They have about four thousand, from what we could tell, sir.”

“Then siege is suicide,” mutters Commander Magnus.

“Yes, thank you,” the Jarl says sarcastically, glancing at her.  She bows her head submissively.  “What of Jarl Theyor?”

“He leads them, sir,” says the third scout.