Dragonhammer: Volume I (3 page)

The market is more alive this morning than it was yesterday evening.  People wander in the thin crowd, looking for things they need or want.  I find very quickly what I am looking for: a blanket for Nathaniel when he goes hunting.  It’s made from assorted animal pelts, but it’s light and warm.  That’s all that matters.  If I could, I would have loved to buy the Fenrir Wolf pelt; Fenrir pelts are incredibly soft and comfortable, but sadly cost more than what we have.  The beasts are tough and don’t come down easily, and on top of that the pelt would have come all the way from Frigys’kon, the land to the southeast, always in a blanket of snow.

Percival has some fun sorting through chess pieces and sets at a particular vendor.  He doesn’t buy, but prefers to look.

“Does Gunther have a chess set?” he asks.

“Not that I’m aware,” I say.  “I think I beat it out of him.”

“Probably true,” grins Percival.

Ethan somehow convinces me to let him get a small pouch of sugary treats.  It’s with his own earnings so I figured he could.

We spend most of the day in the market.  Then we make our way back to Gunther’s house.

I get bored rather quickly and decide to go find Gunther at his forge.

It’s not hard to find.  I’ve had this city memorized since I was eight.  I would come here with my father on little trips to buy supplies, or just for fun.

His forge is just as small as his house and made completely of stone brick, but for the thatched roof.  I let myself in.

He glances up from his anvil.  “Kadmus!  Do you need something?”

“I want to talk to you, Gunther.  I haven’t seen you in such a while.  What’s really going on?”

He straightens up and his eyes narrow.  “What do you mean?”

“I mean you don’t seem yourself.  What’s up?”

He smiles slightly and shakes his head at the floor.  “You are as perceptive as you are big,” he says.

I sit down in the corner, resting my arm on the old wooden table, with an expression that says, “I’m waiting.”

He sets down his project and sits down across from me.  Then he says, “Kadmus…”  He shakes his head and covers his face like he’s embarrassed about something.

“What?” I coax.

He shifts in his seat and fidgets with a button on his shirt.  “I’m engaged,” he finally says.

My jaw almost hits the floor.  Of all things, that was the last thing I expected him to say.

He just stares at me, with the slightest bit of a smile tugging at his lips.

Finally I manage to get out one word:  “Serious?”

“Deathly,” he says.  I’m silent for long enough that he says, “Are you okay?”

Then I start laughing.  Gunther takes it the wrong way and makes to get up, but I grab his arm and say between snickers, “No!  That’s great Gunther!  I just…”

He raises an eyebrow at me, wondering at what I just.

“I just never thought… the possibility never entered my mind!  And it came as such a shock!”

He nods.  “Right.”

I calm down and say, “That’s really great, Gunther!  Who is this girl?”

He shifts again and says, “She’s visiting this evening.”

“So what were you going to say to us this evening?”  He shrugs, and I laugh again.  “Do I get to tell mom?”

“Sure,” he says.  “Just give it to her soft.”

“Yep.”

“Well, I need to get back to work.  I’ll see you tonight.”

“Will do.”

On the way home, I pass a large board that has all kinds of things tacked up on it.  There are a couple of “wanted” posters, and notes requesting workers.  What grabs my attention, however, is the parchment tacked in the very middle.  It reads:

Mohonri Calls for Aid

Upon the second of Rainfall, the city Poalai was put under attack by the armies of Diagrall.  The attack was vigorous but unsuccessful.  Although the city remains under control of Mohonri, the following casualties have been recorded:

Mohonri: 264

Diagrall: 314

Honorable Lord Jarl of Mohonri, Archeantus, heir of late High King Tharantus, sends this request to all able-bodied men that desire to resist the conquest of Diagrall.  More soldiers are needed with every dawn.  You are needed.

To every man that enlists in the armies of Mohonri, a considerable sum of wealth or land will be bequeathed at the war’s end.

Underneath, the parchment has a list of every clan and their standing in the war reading either hostile, neutral, or ally.  The hostiles read Diagrall, Tygnar, and Zjod.  Ryth, the orcs, and Cumeran, the men of the north, both read “neutral.”  Herak and Gilgal both read “ally.”

“It’s a sad thing.”

I turn, startled.  It’s an older man, balding, with thin brown hair and a well-kempt beard.  His eyebrows are thick.  He wears an eye patch over his right eye.  He’s tall and leaning on a cane that he holds in his right hand, and he’s reading the same parchment I had been studying.

“I’m sorry?” I say.

“It’s a sad thing to see the world at war again.”

“Is that where you got your…”  I’m struggling to find the right word, but can’t.

“No,” he replies.  “I’m not that old.  I got this from a Wvolfa many years ago, when a rogue party of them raided my small town.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Indeed.  They’re horrible creatures.  Killing, making off with food and supplies, showing no mercy to women and children.”  Before I can respond, he continues, “This clan, Diagrall.  It’s just like those Wvolfa.  Horrible.  Driven by selfishness.  Conquest to have power over others.”  He looks at me and I glimpse a tear in his eye.  It does not fall.  His age has made him shaky, almost like he’s constantly shivering.  “I wonder how long before they pull away our sons.  Before they pull away our fathers.  Before our crops are burned and our wives ravished.”

The old man looks me in the eye, as if discerning the darkest corners of my soul.  I return his gaze for a moment, and then he speaks, “But they will have to get through you.”

I’m a little surprised by his comment, and say only, “We’ll see.”

He turns slowly and starts to hobble away saying, “It’s a sad thing.”

When Ethan and Percival ask me what I had been out doing, I just reply with, “Oh, nothing.”

Gunther arrives a few hours before sundown.  When he walks in, I give him a sly wink and he just raises his eyebrows slightly.

There’s a knock at the door only minutes later, while we are eating our small bowls of stew.  I lean back in my chair and cross my legs, hiding a small smile with my hand.

Gunther answers the door and trades a few words with the visitor, and then pulls the door wide open.  “This is Rachel,” he says.  James’ eyes widen.  Percival shifts in his chair and crosses his legs. Ethan takes another bite of stew.

She’s pretty.  Her eyes are blue and her hair is straight and brown; she has a small, skinny build, but her posture presents her as strong and in charge.  Her smile is brilliant.

“This is James and Percival, a few friends from Virfith.”  Gunther gestures to each of us as he says our names.  “And this is Ethan and Kadmus, my younger brothers.”

She curtsies and says, “Nice to meet you!”

James just nods, his mouth slightly agape.  The other three of us say together:

“Thanks.”

“You too!”

“And you as well.”

“Everyone,” continues Gunther, “Rachel and I are engaged.”

Percival smiles slightly and Ethan suddenly almost falls out of his chair.  Rachel laughs faintly.

“When?” I ask.

“In a couple of weeks,” he answers, holding his fiancé around the waist.  His smile gets a little bigger as he says it.

Ethan gets back into his chair and says, “Wow!  Can I tell Mom?!”

Gunther glances at me and I give him a why-are-you-looking-at-me-it’s-your-marriage look.

“Better let Kadmus do that,” he says.

“Why?” Ethan whines.

“Because Kadmus will let her know soft and easy.  That way she won’t die of shock.”

Ethan grumbles something and takes another bite of stew.

“Congratulations!” says Percival simply. 

James finally musters up the ability to speak, but only says, “Whoa.”

Rachel only stays for a few minutes.  We talk about the family she’s from, and her father’s career.  It becomes obvious soon that we’re just as interested in learning about her as she is about us.

As soon as it starts to get dark, she says something about getting home and Gunther offers to escort her.  She accepts, of course, and Gunther comes back a few minutes later.  As soon as he walks in, James says, “You lucky man.”

We tease him for a moment, mostly out of jealousy, but the conversation quickly turns to when we will be leaving.

“Tomorrow morning,” I say.  “We don’t want to stay and eat all of your food.”

“I appreciate that,” he says.  “Early?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be up, hopefully.  If I’m not, get me up to see you off.”

“Will do.”  And with that, each of us trails off to bed.

The next morning Gunther is awake and active right when we are.  He’s generous enough to let us take a little something for lunch.  But just as we’re walking out the door I say, “Hold on.  I need to get something.  Go on, I’ll catch up.”

Gunther’s sitting at the table, looking at me with an eyebrow raised. “What’s up?” he asks.

The mild question hangs in the air and burns at me.  Finally I answer, quietly, “I’m just wondering how you’re doing.”

He gets up and looks at me suspiciously.  “Fine,” he says.

“No,” I answer.  “How are you really doing?”

A confused expression sweeps across his face, followed by sorrow.

“I miss you guys, Kadmus,” he says.  “Here we get just about weekly updates concerning the war, and I’m afraid I’m so far away that if anything should happen to you, I won’t be able to get there in time.”

He furrows his eyebrows and stares at the floor, waiting for a reprimanding remark.  Instead I say, “You’re only a day away.”

“Just a few minutes could make all the difference.”

He does have a point, but after a minute of silence, I say quietly, “But you have family here.”

He nods slightly.

“In a few weeks, you’ll have a wife.  After that, you’ll have kids.”

“I did it without telling you.  You guys are my family.”

“That’s okay.  You have a future here.  We could be farther away, really.  But we’re not.  You have a great job, great friends, a house, and, soon, at least, a new family.  You have good reason to stay here.”

He nods, envelops me in a hug and claps me on the back.  “Love ya.”

“Love you too.”

He pulls away and I say, “Oh! I almost forgot!”

“What?”  I punch him twice.  Not very hard, but solidly.  He recoils and exclaims, “What was that for?”

“One was from Frederick and the other was from Father.  For not bringing grandchildren yet.”

“Ah.”  He rubs his shoulder where I hit him, and nods.

“So, you do want me to tell Mother about your engagement?”

“That would be best.  I think it would make her faint for a week if I waltzed into town one day with a wife and a son.”

I nod.  “I’ll break it to them slow.  But I won’t tell our brothers; I’ll let Father do that.  Assuming Ethan doesn’t tell them first.”

“Sounds good.”

“You tell us when Rachel’s expecting.”

He immediately gets what I mean and says, “Don’t worry, I’ll let you know somehow.”

Ethan pounds on the door impatiently.

“You’d better go,” says Gunther.  “Ethan’s getting mad.”

“You stay safe,” I say as I walk towards the door.  I throw him a coin as payment for the food.

“You go find a girl,” he says, and then gives me a wink as he throws back the coin.

“I’ll work on it,” I answer, opening the door and tossing the coin back to him.

“You’d better!”  His smile is the last thing I see before I catch the coin and shut the door behind me.  I wonder what he’ll think when he sees the small pile of coins I left in his cupboard.

I feel much better after that, like our mission here was more than just to get something for Nathaniel.  Gunther is with us again.

Hunting Trip

I
t’s always sad to see Gunther’s house disappear behind the adjacent block.  Nringnar’s Deep stays in sight until we exit the front gate and start across the bridge spanning the canyon.

The trip home is uneventful.  The only reason we don’t stop at Highrock Lookout is because a patrol of guards has made camp there.  They eye us suspiciously but don’t do anything to hinder our trek.

We eat lunch in a small clearing.

James gets stung by a bee.  It was a little shocking to us all because from nowhere he was suddenly yelling curse upon curse, maliciously stomping on an already-dead bee. 

It’s always easier coming down the mountain than hiking up.  Naturally we make much better time, and walk into town around mid-afternoon.  James slips away from us and says something like, “See ya later.”  Percival follows suit a couple of blocks later.  The sight of home is fabulous, even if it’s been only a few days.  After a few weeks, it’s even better.

I have a nice little chat with Ethan before we walk in, telling him to not say anything concerning Gunther’s engagement.  To my surprise, he does as I say and keeps quiet.

Mother hugs us each and asks how it was, and I say fine.  Ethan runs off to the room he shares with Nathaniel and Nicholas, and that’s when I take the opportunity to tell Mother.

“Where’s Nathaniel?” I ask.

“Down at the forge with your Father.”

“Good.”  I pull the new blanket out of my pack and present it.

“Fantastic.  You paid Gunther right?”

“Of course!”

“He accepted it?”

“No.  I just hid a little bit in one of the cupboards we helped empty.”

“Ah.”

“There is something I need to talk to you about though.”

“Well, let’s talk.”

I have no idea how to bring it up gently, so I decide to come up with some sort of game.  “Guess what’s happening with Gunther.  Soon.”

Mother raises an eyebrow.  “What?”

“Guess.”

“Is he coming back?”

“No.  I think he wanted to, but I managed to persuade him otherwise.”

Her eyebrows point in an arrow at me.  “Why would you-”

“It has to do with the surprise,” I say mysteriously.  “Any other guesses?”

“He got a job as a goat-breeder?”  She’s just joking sarcastically now, so I decide to tell her.

“Don’t freak out when I tell you,” I say, knowing that she will anyway.  “Gunther’s getting married.”

Stunned silence.  She stares at me with her mouth agape for probably a minute.  Then slowly, very slowly, the corners of her lips start to come up.  She cups her hands over her mouth and says, “Oh my…  Oh my…”

I thought her reaction would be a little louder.  And maybe a little more violent.

“To who?” she finally gets out.

“A girl named Rachel.  I don’t know her last name, but I met her and she’s really nice.”

Mother nods.  Then suddenly a tear runs down her cheek.  “My Gunther… is getting married!”  And then she hugs me and sobs into my shoulder.  I’m assuming they’re tears of happiness, but I’m still second-guessing Gunther’s advice to get a girl.

The she looks up at me and smiles like I’m the one getting married.  “When?”

“In a few weeks.  I don’t know the exact date.”

“So I can begin to expect grandchildren…”  She starts to look a little faint, so I go to put my arm around her.  That’s exactly what she does, however:  faint.  I put her in her bed and go to the kitchen to fill my stomach.

When Father comes home, he greets me with a pat and asks me how the trip went.  I decide to let Mother tell him about Gunther’s engagement, and just say it went well.

Mother makes the announcement at dinner.

Everybody is shocked.  I can’t believe that they’re speechless because Gunther was bound to get married sometime, the strong young man that he is.

I wake up and milk Ann, the brown cow in our little shed.  It’s usually what Nathaniel’s supposed to do, but since it’s his birthday I decided to let him have the day off.

We have breakfast as a family and decide to do Nathaniel’s celebration before Father and I have to go work in the forge.  Nathaniel appreciates the blanket, saying “Thanks!  My old one’s been through way too much.  If it had any more holes, it would only be a wad of stitching!”

Nathaniel just about falls over when he sees the knife I have made for him.  “You made this?”

“Why does that surprise you?”

“I don’t think you’ve done any work before that’s this good!”

“Thanks,” I say lamely.

Just a few minutes later, Father and I head for the forge.

We’re quiet.  Leon’s knives are almost done, and the less talking we do, the more work we do.  The sounds made in the forge are some of the best in my opinion.

“When are you leaving tomorrow?” asks Father.

It takes me a few seconds to realize that I’m going hunting with Nathaniel tomorrow.  “Probably as soon as we get up.  That way, we can get to the Redwood Forest by noon.”

“That quickly?”

“We’ve done it before.”

“That’s a fast trip.  Good luck hunting; I hear good hunting is hard to come across.  Tygnar must be hunting the animals down.”

“Tygnar doesn’t reach to the Redwood Forest.”

“True…”  A while later he says, “I appreciate you going with Nathaniel.  He’s always loved hunting, but it’s not what I do.  I can strike with a hammer but can’t hit the side of our house with a bow and arrow.”  He smiles at me, his facial hair hiding it slightly from view.  “But you are multitalented, Kadmus.  You can work fine material in the forge.  You can shoot with a bow.  You’re a great knife thrower.  You are compassionate and humble.”  He nods at me.  “I am blessed to have such a son.”

I have no idea what to say, but he doesn’t expect me to say anything.  He just goes back to his project.  “Thank you,” I say quietly.

The next morning Nathaniel and I leave early.  We’ve got enough food with us to last us a couple of days at least, but if we’re successful we can stay out for even longer.  Nicholas and Ethan are supposed to cover our chores, but no guarantees.

Nathaniel is excited to use the new knife I have given him.  He talks ecstatically about how he is going to gut various animals with it, but I only listen half-heartedly.  Despite how much I care for my brother, I’m not one for hunting and ripping the guts out of animals.

The road stops long before it reaches the forest, but the river doesn’t.  The Fravora guides us at a steady downward grade until we reach the edge of the forest, where it cuts a path through the trees into the heart of the woodland.  We stop in this familiar spot to eat lunch, and I end up studying the area.  Grasses are starting to gain color as the day and the season wax on, and they contrast sharply with the rocks that line the river sporadically.  Some trees stand apart from the main body of forest in a feeble attempt to gradually introduce the forest to the landscape.

I’m not much of a hunter, so once we enter the forest, I follow Nathaniel and try not to make any noise.  He leads me for a little while without any luck, which isn’t really surprising because most of the good animals are towards the middle of the forest.  I snap a branch accidentally and he gives me a little glare.  I mouth, “Sorry,” to him, and we move on.

We stay relatively close to the Fravora, but always keep in mind which direction we come from.  If we ever get lost, which has happened before, then all we need to do is find the river.  It’s our compass in this forest.

Nathaniel, his bow strung, moves quieter and with more graceful, precise movements.  This suggests that he has seen something, so I copy him.

Suddenly, in one motion, he draws an arrow, nocks it, and shoots it through the eye of an animal twenty yards away.

The rabbit doesn’t so much as squeak.  It’s just a little one, but I’m a fan of rabbit stew and the fur usually sells alright.

Nathaniel strings it to his backpack by the foot, and leads us deeper into the wood.

The trees are getting taller, and soon they loom so high over me that I think they must be mountains.  I try to wrap my arms around one, but only come around about a quarter of the way.  The deciduous leaves block sunlight from the ground, so only pockets of the golden stuff make it to the dirt.  Normal pine trees seem to be a little jealous of the height of the enormous redwoods.

Fallen pine needles, pinecones, and some rocks litter the ground.  Shrubs, ferns, and smaller trees provide cover for undersized animals, but Nathaniel can’t detect any.  When he does, it usually ends up startling him or getting away.

We walk over a tree that must have died and rotted until it fell over.  Most of it remains intact, but parts of it are crumbling open to reveal the softening red insides of the gargantuan tree.

Inside one of the rotting cracks in the tree, I hear buzzing.

Both of us freeze.  Nathaniel looks at me and I whisper, “Dingflies.”

Dingflies are ugly little insects that nest in colonies, like bees.  They have their own little society and act almost just like bees.  But they can’t defend themselves.

Dingflies can’t bite.  They can’t sting.  They can’t scratch.  It’s pathetic really.  The worst they can do is buzz around your face and get into places they shouldn’t, which includes… well, never mind. 

The little purple bugs are named because they look like flies, but also because of the sound their nest makes when you hit it.  Some use it as an instrument and have figured out how to fluctuate the tone produced, but nobody can figure out why it makes such a sound.

The only reason we want to steer clear of them is because once they lock on to our food, they won’t let it get away until it’s gone or they’re dead.

A few dingflies surface from the rotting tree, but we pass quietly and they leave us alone.

After another two hours pass, I know that the rabbit was a lucky shot.  Nathaniel has missed two small mammals, one of them by a mile, and scared off another.  At the moment he’s on the trail of a deer, which we’re following intently.

It’s no surprise that the trail is headed towards the river.  I’m glad because I want to take a break and splash my face a little, half hoping that we mysteriously lose the deer’s trail.

Once we reach the river, Nathaniel has no idea where the deer has gone.  The river is wide at this point, and a rock outcrop juts about a quarter of the distance outward.  Rapids crash by just under the point, made all the more violent by more rocks and boulders sticking up out of the water.  A large log sticks out at an odd angle.  White water is everywhere.  There’s no way the deer could have crossed, but where else could it have gone?

I manage to persuade Nathaniel that we need to set up camp.  Despite the quickly darkening sky, he wants to keep going.  I forbid it.

Nathaniel is happy to use his new knife and skins the rabbit before it rots.  Then we cook the meat and share it around the fire with some bread, finally going to bed afterward.

We wake early.  The fire still smolders weakly, but I dump some water on it anyway.  Then I dig around in my pack and find some rope.  I twist, tie, and lay it out until I have set a formidable trap.  I repeat the process twice, and then we leave the campsite.

This day goes much the same as the last.  But today I get out my throwing knives and hold one ready, determined to get at least one thing with only a knife.

My chance comes when a large pheasant-like bird perches on a branch next to us.  It’s an ugly thing and is just about to scream us a lullaby when my knife cuts it short.

I’m very satisfied with my bird and decide to keep some of the longer feathers to put on arrows.

We try to stay in the cover of thicker thickets, but with the trees as large as they are, good cover is sometimes hard to come by.  Aside from my bird, today we are unlucky.

We camp at the same rock outcrop over the river, but don’t dare sleep over the angry Fravora.  We sleep on the shore, safe and sound.  My bird proves tasty, and my traps prove empty and unsprung.

In the morning we consider crossing the river but quickly decide against it.  It bothers me that we haven’t seen anything larger yet.  Usually by now we will have at least spotted a deer or a bear, but I’m not at all eager to encounter the latter.  I think that they might be on the other side; the height of the water suggests otherwise.

Nathaniel shoots two birds the following day.  To make it even better, I find that two of my traps have caught me a rabbit each.  Our luck starts to pick up.

We eat only one of the birds, but pluck the other and skin the rabbits.  We fillet the meat and package it carefully with prepared bags, and then put it in our packs.  It won’t last long, so we’ll either have to eat it quickly or head home.  We decide to eat the other bird.

When we wake the next morning, I feel something is a little different.  It’s not the air.  Not my clothes.  Not my hair.  Not my pack.