Dragonhammer: Volume I (13 page)

“He was- is,” Gunther corrects himself, “the greatest father.  The greatest man I’ve ever known.  And that I will ever know.”

I see father’s face.  He is speaking to me as he lies on his deathbed.  Then his eyes close.

I step forward to speak.  It takes me only a moment to gather my thoughts.

“When he was speaking to me…” I begin.  “He told me that I will not fail.  He said that through whatever trials and adversities I went through, that I must not, and will not, fail.  I do not plan to let him down.”  I lift the sword and move towards the stone coffin.  “He also said that I would live to be something more than he.  I have no regret saying that no man will be something more than he.”  I set the broadsword down so the hilt lies beneath his hands and the blade points toward his feet.  “And though I bury his blade with him,” I choke.  “I will always carry his courage within me.  And none can take it from me.”

I leave the blade over his body and step back, having finished my words.  Gunther, Nathaniel, Hralfar, and I each take a corner of the stone slab that will serve as the lid.  As it slides across the top of the stone coffin, I look at my father’s face until the lid is in place and his body is sealed in the tomb of stone.  Despite our beliefs in the afterlife, I know that I may never see his face again.

The lid is decorated with ridges along the edges that stick out slightly over the sides of the box.  The rest of the smooth stone is blank, but for an inscribed box in the very center that contains the words:

Kadmus Armstrong

Beloved Husband and Father

Frederick says some sort of prayer.  Then we leave.

Just before the stone tomb disappears around the corner, four words run through my head. 
I will avenge you.

Tactics and Women

W
e make camp partway down the road from Dragongate Bridge.  The next day we go back to Kera.

I pick up my hammer in the barracks, sitting on the bunk where my father had died.  Lord Jarl Hralfar visits me only a minute or two later.  “I am sorry,” he says.

“I will avenge him,” I say.  “Swordbreaker is the name of Tygnar’s leader?”

“Yes,” he responds, “Lord Jarl Lucius Swordbreaker.”

“Then it’s him I’m after.”

The Jarl only says, “That’s no small task.”

“I will kill him.”  I accentuate every word.  “I will kill him.”

“Well,” he says, “You’re not an official soldier yet.”

“Why not?”

“You have to take the soldiers’ oath to me.”

“When?”

“Normally in the throne room of Nringnar’s Deep, but because we’re not there, we’ll have to make due with the accommodations we have.  Now would work.”

“Well-” I begin, but just before I can respond a brown-cloaked soldier tears through the front door of the barracks.  Seeing Jarl Hralfar, he makes his way towards us and says, “Lord Jarl Hralfar!”

The Jarl turns towards him.

“Jarl Kjunn requests a meeting with you immediately, sir.”

“Now?”

“Yes, sir.  Now.”

The Jarl turns to me and says, “Kadmus, would you come?”

“What?” I say.

“Though you may not want to be a captain, I respect your valor and initiative.  You may have something to say that I or Jarl Kjunn needs to hear.  Would you accompany me as an advisor?”

I think for a moment and nod.

“Good,” he says.  Then he turns to the messenger and says, “Lead.”

The soldier leads us up the steps to the gate of Stormguard, and then inside and to the right.  We follow the same course we had yesterday, stopping in the same room.

The soldier leaves us as Kjunn looks up from the map.

“Good; you’re here,” he grumbles.  The sun shines brightly through the windows behind him, but his attitude contrasts it darkly.

“What do you need?” asks Hralfar.

“We are moving out in the morning,” he says.  “Reinforcements just came from the south.  Archeantus sent us eleven hundred men to aid us.”  He moves a little purple flag on the map to a dot labeled “Kera.”

“How’d you get the message out so quick?” I ask quietly.

“Signal fires,” says Hralfar quickly.  “With the retake of Terrace?” he clarifies.

“Yes.  We need that city.”

“Farming?” I ask.

“Forgive his lack of experience,” says Hralfar as Kjunn rolls his eyes.  Then he answers, “Yes, farming advantages.  Those farms provide a third of our forces with food.”

I nod slowly in understanding.

“There is no option,” says Kjunn.  “We must retake that city.”

“Why wasn’t it better guarded?” I inquire.

Kjunn answers, slightly agitated, “Because we did not expect an attack of such strength, and our soldiers are on the front in Watervale, to the west.  You do know where that is, correct?”

I bob my head sarcastically.

“So I called you here to see what kind of army you have with you, and to plan the retake of your city.  Terrace is well guarded, and it will not be easy to retake.”

“I never thought I’d have to plan the destruction of my own main gate,” mutters Hralfar as he leans over the map Kjunn brings out of a drawer.  Upon closer inspection, I find that it’s a map of Terrace, and a highly detailed one at that.

“Can your survivors fight?”

“Yes,” Hralfar responds.  “At least most of them can and will.”

“Are they all soldiers?” Kjunn further interrogates.

“No,” answers Hralfar with no hesitation.  “Some of them are, but many are simple businessmen.  Some have not been trained how to swing a sword.”

Kjunn nods.  “We’ll have to work with it.  Will they fight for their city?”

“To the end.”

“Perfect.  Now how do we get through the gate?  By the time we get there, they will have had plenty of time to rebuild and reinforce the gate, and then some.”

“I hate to suggest it on my own city,” says the Jarl, “but I’ve always favored the catapult.  Take down the wall, and we have a clear shot inside.”

“Or they’ll have a clear shot at you,” argues Kjunn.  “Who knows how many trolls they’ve got?  They’ll smash through men like a hammer on an ant.”

“What do you suggest, then?” Hralfar says, slightly offended.  “We can’t get in without destroying the gate!”

Kjunn makes to answer, but I interrupt, “Oh can’t we?”  Both look my direction.  “We can get in the same way we got out.  Through the waste tunnels of the Keep.”

They ponder the idea.  “Why didn’t I think of that…?” Hralfar whispers to himself.

“Explain,” says Kjunn.  “What’s the plan after you manage to get an entire army inside Nringnar’s Deep?”

“We can take the city by night.  While all the guards are sleeping, we simply take everything.  Then, when they wake in the morning, we have our swords pointed at their throats.”

“It could work,” says Hralfar.  “But an entire army won’t fit into the Keep without being detected.  The alarm will be raised and they’ll be forced to siege the Keep.  That defeats the purpose of attacking from the other side.  Which is surprise, correct?”

“Well, we’ll attack from the front,” I retaliate.

They stare at me like I’m an idiot.  “What?”

“While some of us are inside the Keep, we kill the guards and take it over and bar the gate.  We keep the numbers small enough to avoid detection, but large enough to overcome any resistance we will meet.  The rest of the army is waiting at the front gate.  While the Tygnar army is busy there, we can attack from the Keep.  While we distract from the back, you have time to break down the gate and get in.  Then we have them caught between the hammer and the anvil.”

Hralfar smiles at me and nods enthusiastically.  “See, that’s why I brought you up here.”

“I’m beginning to see why you like this young man,” Kjunn says quietly.  He studies me for a moment and says, “Can you promise me you won’t be detected in the Keep?”

“No.  But even if we are, it splits their army.  Half towards the front gate and half seigeing their own Keep.”

Hralfar keeps nodding with a small smile.  “I’m keeping you,” he says quietly.

Kjunn agrees.  “Or, alternatively, you can disguise yourselves as their soldiers and open the gate for us right from under their nose.  Just let us in during the night when nobody is awake.”

Hralfar says, “That may not be so easy.  We can’t hide an army on their doorstep.  They will know and they will not let simply anyone open the gate, even if you do kill the guards.  Killing a Tygnar soldier would blow your cover.”

“Then let’s compromise,” I suggest.  “We go with my plan, but in the case you cannot break through the gate, I will open it for you from the inside.”

“Sounds good to me,” says Hralfar.  “You then will lead the attack from the inside?”

“I never said that.”

Hralfar raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push the subject.  “I will lead the attack on the gate.  It should take us roughly the same amount of time to get there, but we will need some sort of signal that you are in position for attack, and another that you have taken the Keep.”

“Let’s light the signal fire,” Kjunn advocates.  “It’s never lit anymore, but always is stocked with wood and oil.  As soon as the Keep is yours, light the fire.”

“We will need a signal,” I point out, “to know when to attack.  It would be a pity if we got ahead of ourselves and took the keep before it was time.  They’d rout us out before you had time to get the gate down.”

“I see what you mean,” Jarl Hralfar responds, “but that is easily solved.  You said you will be in the waste tunnels under the keep?”  He waits for my acknowledgement before continuing, “The tunnels are a network underneath the city.  There’s a similar entrance by the gate on the cliff, barred with an iron grate.  We cannot reach it, but the warhorn can.”

“So we will be able to hear the warhorn when you attack?” I clarify.

“Yes,” he responds.  “And quite clearly, I should think.”

“Good.  As soon as we hear their horn, we will infiltrate the Keep.”

“Likewise,” says Hralfar, “We will need to know that you have reached your position under the keep before we begin our attack.”

“A dove,” Kjunn answers.  “I have a few that are trained to carry messages or fly patterns.  Take one and release it from the top of Fort Greymane.”

I nod.  “Sounds easy enough.”

“Just be sure you are facing the direction you want him to go.  I assure you he will find the regiment at the front of the city.”

“Noted,” I reply.  “So I will release the dove to let you know we have obtained our position, you will blow the horn when it is time to attack, and we will light the signal fire when we have taken the keep.”

“You’re more intelligent than you let on,” says Kjunn, looking at me while Hralfar nods slightly.  “And I agree fully with the tactics that have been suggested here.  How, then, will we function once we are inside Terrace?”

Hralfar looks to me.  “Any ideas?”

“I know nothing of battle formations, procedures, or tactics,” I say.  “I’m only a blacksmith.”

“Well, you’re a smart one,” he counters.  “You’re sure you know nothing?”

“I know how to make a sword, but I have no idea how to move soldiers in a battlefield.”

“Very well, then,” says Hralfar.  “I will let you know what we manage to come up with.  If you wish to, you are dismissed.  I will speak with you later this evening, after I talk to our troops.”

I bow my head respectfully to both Jarls and walk out.

People give me odd looks as I find my way through Stormguard to the main gate and show myself out

The sun is still shining, though it is drooping lower and lower in the sky.  I take my time walking down the many steps to the barracks where I am staying.

As soon as I walk in the door, I resume the position I had been in before the Jarl came in.  I sit on my bed and eat a small dinner.  Then I pick up my warhammer.

Percival approaches me and sits on the bed next to me.  He eyes my hammer for a moment, and then he speaks.  “I’m sorry,” he says.  “Really.”

I stare at my hammer.

He throws his arm around me and hugs me around the shoulders.  “I’m sorry.”

I lose my composure.  Tears begin to fall from my eyes and I hug him back.  “Why, Percival?” I ask.  “Why’d he have to go…?”

“I don’t know, Kadmus,” he replies.  “I don’t know.”  He gives me a minute and pats me on the back.  “How are Gunther and Nathaniel doing?”

“Nathaniel’s taking it hard,” I say.  “He’s like me.  Gunther’s doing okay.  He knew it was going to happen, I think…  I think he prepared himself for it so that he wouldn’t break down when his best friend said he was sorry…”

Percival smiles and laughs quietly.  “Sometimes it’s a good thing to break down,” he replies.  “Everyone needs to once in a while.”

I nod.  “Well, thanks.”

“You seemed like you needed something.”

“I do,” I say quietly.

“Let’s go get some food,” he suggests.  “Maybe a cinnamon roll or something.”

“Okay,” I nod, wiping my nose.  “Let’s.”

“Wanna go get James and Jericho?”

I nod again.

Jericho is close by, as he has recovered from his injuries.  He has a nasty scar on the back of his left arm and across the right side of his face, crossing his cheekbone and his brow.  His eye miraculously escaped the blow.  He joins us with an enthusiastic nod.

James is upstairs in a similar room with his father.  He responds quickly to Percival’s suggestion and soon we are walking out the door and into the street.  There’s still some daylight left.

We find a small bakery.  I reach into my pocket to pull out some coins, but Percival says, “No.  I got it.”  I don’t argue, mostly because I’m not in the mood.  He does, however, accept a little change from James and Jericho.  Then we eat our cinnamon rolls as we walk back to the barracks.

“So what did the doctors say?” I ask James.  In Terrace they had merely given him a quick glance and then tied the iron brace to his arm to prevent any further injury he might cause to himself.  Here, he was given a diagnosis and real treatment.

“It’s a small fracture.  Just a crack in the bones in my forearm.  Not too bad, except that I have to wear this stupid thing on my arm.”

“Well, you had to stand up to a troll,” Percival mutters.  Only I hear him.

“Did they say when you would be fully healed?” I ask.

“They said it would take about at least four to six weeks for the fracture to heal.  Then I can take off this thing.”