Dragonhammer: Volume I (31 page)

The next morning, as we play our rematch, she asks me a question.  “Why did you join the army?”

“To avenge my father,” I say bluntly, taking her pawn.  “And to destroy anybody who brings upon other people the pain they have brought upon me.”

Her eyes narrow.  “What do you mean?”

“I mean the leaders of Tygnar and Diagrall.  They bring their clan to war for their own personal gain.  They want power, land, wealth, whatever, and they are willing to kill as many people as it takes to get there.  It’s sick, and it destroys so many people and families who otherwise would have been happy.”

“Like yours?” she says softly.

I nod.  “Yes,” I respond.  “Like mine.”

She pauses after she sees my bishop land in a particular square.  “You loved your father?” she asks, almost at a whisper.

“Yes,” I nod.  “Still do.”

She hesitates.  “How?” she asks.  When she sees my questioning look, she clarifies, “How do you still love your father if he has passed on?”

“Because he was my life,” I answer.  “All the good memories I have involve him in some way or another.  He taught me everything I know, not only in the forge, but how to read, how to fight, how to be a good person.  I remember him, and as long as I do that he will always be with me.  That’s what he told me before he… died.”  It’s almost impossible for me to get the last word out.

“I see,” she says.  Then she takes another of my pieces and puts me in checkmate simultaneously.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I mutter.

Silent Blades

T
hat night I sit up, awake in the night.  I twirl one of my throwing knives, resisting the urge to throw it into the table, not only because of the noise it would make, but because of the fit my mother would have when she finds the table scarred.

Then I freeze.  I have heard nothing, but something is wrong.  Even the candles seem to freeze in anticipation.

There are a few very long moments of nothingness.  Then a figure appears from around the corner.

Before I can stop myself the throwing knife flicks from my hand.  I realize just in time that the figure is not hostile, but is Aela.  Though the knife still leaves my hand, I am able to alter its course just enough to miss her.

She stops eyes wide as the knife embeds in the wall an inch in front of her face.  Her eyes glance to me as if she is asking permission to move at all.  “Sorry,” I say quietly, moving towards her and taking the knife from the wall.  She doesn’t move again until after I sit down.

“Don’t you sleep?” she asks, moving to the chair on the other side of the fire.

“I need very little,” I reply darkly.  “I cannot afford to sleep.”

“Why not?” she asks.

I glance down the hallway where my mother and two brothers sleep.  Nathaniel sleeps heavily in a chair across the room.  Then I respond quietly, “Tygnar is trying to get at me by hurting my mother.  I cannot sleep because if I do, I chance it happening while I am asleep.”  She accepts my answer, eyeing my warhammer that leans against the stone hearth only inches to my left.  I begin twirling my knife again as I ask, “What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” she answers.  “Thinking about…”

“What happened at the bridge?” I finish.  She nods.  “You may see your friend again,” I comfort.  “You may yet.  When all of this is over and Diagrall has been overthrown.”  She does not answer.  “Your home is in Kera?” I ask.  She nods.  “We will take you there on our way back.  I do not think we will need to stay for much longer.”

“Why not?”

“Because whatever is going to happen will happen soon.”

There’s a pause.  Then she says, “Thank you for the thought, but I don’t think I want to be going back.”

“Why?” I ask flatly.

“I have nothing to go back to,” she responds.  “A man has been courting me, but… he’s a little old.  I do not love him, nor will I ever love him or anyone like him.  I would not be sad if I never saw him again.”

“Understood,” I reply.  “Is there someone you do love?”

“No,” she replies unequivocally.

I nod and repeat, “Understood.  What will you do then?”

“Can I accompany you into the army?” she asks without hesitation.

“You may,” I respond slowly.  “Women are not accepted into the army very well, but you may try if you like.”

“They will accept me,” she mutters.

“Why do you want to join?” I ask, ignoring her last comment.

“Because I have nothing left to do with my life,” she answers.  “I need an escape from what I do have.”

I nod. “Very well.” 

Silence pervades for a moment.  Then she says, “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Everything.”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” I say, shaking my head slightly.  “Or I’ll be explaining the basics of smithing for the next week.”

“How do you fight like you do?” she specifies.  “How are you unstoppable on the battlefield, but still have these powerful connections with your family and friends?  How is it possible that you can throw a knife like you just did, but have the ability to make that hammer there?”

I think carefully for a moment.  Then I say, “It is because I have these relationships that I am able to do what I do.”

Her face conveys her thought, “What?”

“I am able to fight because I have something to fight for,” I answer.  “The relationships I have give me something to protect.  I failed to protect one of them, and I swear to you it will not happen again.”

“I see,” she says quietly.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, and then I break the quiet by saying, “Do not concern yourself with my worries.  You should get some sleep.”

“As should you,” she replies coolly.  “Good night.”  Then she gets up and walks back down the hall.

The next morning, I eat breakfast and take a nap.  I have no fear sleeping during the day.  The attack will be a stealthy one, and definitely not during the day.

When I wake a few hours later, Percival is looking at me from across the room.  James and Jericho are discussing something intensely at the table.

I sit up straighter in the chair and greet Percival, but wait for the other two to finish their heated conversation that has something to do with cows and the process of getting them drunk with anything less expensive than wine.

Soon James glances at me and says loudly, “Dragonhammer awakes!”

Mother looks from him to me and from me to him.  “Dragonhammer?” she asks me.

I shoot James a dirty look and nod reluctantly.  “Yes,” I say.  “I am Dragonhammer.”

Her eyebrows go up.  “That was you doing those things?!”

I nod again.

She sits down.  “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“It didn’t come up,” I say lamely.

She shakes her head and says, “Well… I know now.  Don’t get yourself killed, Kadmus.  Please.  For me.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” I respond.

“Nobody is,” she says quietly.  “Your father wasn’t.”  Then she leaves the room.

Percival waits for the air to lose tension before he begins talking to me.  “When are we planning on leaving?” he asks.

“Not until it is done,” I respond.  “And it is not done.”

“How long will that be, though?” he says.  “They may never come now that you’re here.”

“But, if that is the case, as soon as I leave, they will know,” I retaliate.  “And then they will strike.  I would not be able to live with myself.”

That day I forge a dagger for myself.  It’s double-edged and about a foot long, with a leather sheath that straps to my right thigh.  The hilt is curved slightly and fits my hand almost perfectly.

Aela and I play a few more chess games that evening.  She wins the first, I win the second, and the third is a stalemate.  Then she and the rest of them go to bed while I stay out in my chair by the fireplace, twirling my throwing knife.

Instead of sleeping, I think.

I must always remain aware.  Stealth, by trade, is not easy to detect, so if I am to defeat it, I must always expect it.  I can’t expect it if I am asleep, so I keep myself awake with my thoughts.

I think about where I am.  Why I am where I am.  How I got there and the events that led to it.  The decisions that I or others have made to force me into this situation.  I think on the people I know.  Jericho’s grounded manner, James’s sense of humor, and Percival’s wisdom.  Nathaniel’s aspirations, my mother’s love, my father’s sacrifice.  Leon’s boisterousness, Bownan’s compassion, Frederick’s good heart.  Hralfar’s leadership, Kjunn’s control, and Genevieve’s fire.  Aela.

No matter which direction my thoughts may take, they always trail back to Aela.  Her mysteriousness.  Her sadness.  Her story.  Her beauty.

I cannot afford the distraction
, I hear myself saying. 
And this is exactly why.

I am fascinated by her in every aspect, including the way she was able to magically learn and master the game of chess in less than an hour. 
How sad,
I think. 
That she was the victim of such evil.  How fortunate that I was able to come across her.

Something that Frederick once said comes to mind.  “Coincidence is fate in action.”

Why her?
I ask myself. 
Why now?

I decide to search myself deeply.  There’s a twisting knot of emotion associated with her, and I will attempt to make sense of it.

I find sympathy and empathy.  I feel sorry for her.  I can relate to her through the loss of her parents, though her childhood definitely was harder than mine.  She grew up in an orphanage, with no familial connections.

I find sadness for the same reasons.  She must be so alone.

There’s a little bit of irritation, probably because of her ability to beat me in chess, which hasn’t happened for several years.  Also at her hard-headedness.

There’s something else I find, but I am unable to unwind it from the rest of the emotions.  It’s evasive and something I don’t recognize, but I like it.

I am torn from my thoughts when I hear a scuff.  It’s a tiny thing, but audible nonetheless.  My knife freezes in my hand and my other darts to the shaft of my new hammer.  Silently I stand with the knife in my right hand and my hammer hanging in my left.  The sound came from the left, though my mother’s bedroom is to the right.

There’s nothing for several minutes. 
A mouse?
I think. 
No; mice aren’t that big.

I tread to the hall without a sound.  In return I hear nothing.

My head whisks around and I see an empty room with candles flickering obliviously.  The wind blows eerily.

I step carefully back into the center room.  The front door sits untouched with a bar across it.  Nobody will be able to get in that way quietly.

I stand for what must be another several minutes.  Then there is another scuff.

It comes from the hall where Aela sleeps.  Noiselessly, but quickly, I start into the hall.

Still I hear nothing.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I sneak down the short hallway.  There are two doors; the right leads to the tiny washroom, and the left leads to Aela’s small bedroom.  The latter stands slightly ajar.  The room is completely dark.

Without sensing anything, I begin back down the hall.  For stealth’s sake I am barefoot.

Still I hear nothing.

I know you are there
, I think. 
I know it.

Then I hear something.

It is furtive and soft.  I hear it as a breath of the wind.  It comes from Aela’s bedroom.

As I begin back down the hall, I hear a low unrecognized voice utter one single word, “Why?”

A bloodcurdling scream emits from the room.  I waste no more time with stealth and bound down the hallway in a single step, blasting through the door.

Two men sit inside the room, cloaked in black.  One holds a crossbow, and one a sword.  The crossbow points at Aela, who is pressed against the opposite wall with her mouth open in a horrible scream.  The men see me enter but have no time to react.

They wear no armor, so they are subjected to the full power of my newly-forged hammer.  The first receives a fatal blow in the stomach and the second tries in vain to back away, but the spike on the end of my hammer drives into his chest as I punch it forward.  He gasps as I withdraw it, and then falls to the ground as I slam him in the side.

Both lie dead on the ground, bleeding.  I ignore the mess, shut the window and lock it, and then turn to Aela, who is clutching her head and crying in a ball on the bed.  A sharp dagger lies next to her; she must have dropped it in her fright.

“Are you okay?” I ask, dropping my hammer and gripping her shoulder tightly.

She suppresses her terror and looks up at me with slightly swollen eyes.  The tears stop quickly and she sits up.  “Yes, I’m fine,” she says.

Nathaniel runs into the room and sees the scene on the floor.  His eyes go wide.

“Don’t let Mother see,” I say quietly.  “Don’t let her see.”

He nods and turns to stop our panicked mother, who is running down the hall towards the scene.  At the same time I open the window again and dump out the bodies.

“Aela just had a horrible nightmare,” Nathaniel lies.  “A horrible nightmare.  Everything’s fine now.  It’ll be okay, just go back to bed.”

“Let me see her,” Mother persists.  “Let me see her.”

Nathaniel looks to me pleadingly.  I take a blanket and cover the pool of blood on the floor, and then nod.

Hurriedly I pick up my hammer and hide the bloodied head behind my back.

“Aela?” begins Mother.  She enters, ignoring the blanket on the floor.

Aela only looks at her.

Mother sits next to her on the bed.  I take an opportunity and leave the room with Nathaniel, but I stop outside the door to listen to the conversation.

“What was the nightmare about?” Mother asks.

There’s no answer.

“You can tell me, sweetheart.  You’ll feel better to get it out.”

“Men,” answers Aela.  “Two of them with weapons.  They were going to kill me.”

“Who were these men?”

“I don’t know.  They were clothed all in black.  Assassins probably.”

“You were scared?”