Dragonhammer: Volume I (33 page)

“Please.”

The Jarl gives us each a generous helping of food, and then a guard shows us to our quarters.  The rooms are much more luxurious than I am used to, as they are guest rooms in an essential fortress-palace.  Nathaniel and I share a room, Percival, James, and Jericho share another, and Aela gets one to herself.

Nathaniel and I each get our own four-poster bed, with thick blankets and smooth fluffy mattresses and pillows.  From a tall window, we get a view of the plains that stretch behind the city.  A brown tapestry emblazoned with the bear and the sword crossing its neck hangs on the wall between our beds.  In the dressers, various shirts and pants are stocked.  I still have to ask for some to get a size large enough.

That night is the best I sleep for a very long time.

The next morning I and all the others eat breakfast with the Jarl at the unnecessarily long table in the front hall.  Then the gate bangs open and a messenger runs in.

“My Jarl!” he says, taking a knee in front of Jarl Kjunn.

“Rise,” says the Jarl.  “What tidings do you bear?”

“I bring a message from Jarl Hralfar,” he says.  “From Fragruss.” 

Fragruss?
I think.

He holds out a letter, the wax seal stamped with the insignia of Gilgal from the ring on Hralfar’s finger.  Kjunn takes it and breaks the seal unhurriedly.  As he reads, his eyes narrow and his reading almost becomes frantic.

“What?” I ask.

He finishes the letter and says, “It’s for you.”

Flight

I
take the letter warily and glance into the Jarl’s emerald eyes before beginning to read.

Captain Armstrong,

Your presence is needed immediately in Fragruss.  You must waste no time in your journey.  There is no option; you must come now.  Titus Swordbreaker, the son of Lucius Swordbreaker, has sent a letter that you must read and answer to within a week from the time I have sent this message.  If he does not get a reply or an audience from you within that time, he will attack with all the force that Tygnar can muster.  Speed your flight here or there will be much blood shed needlessly.

He has requested that you come against him to battle the same way that you came against Lucius’s champion.  Make haste and get here in time to reply.  He sits on our doorstep, waiting.  Come, and come quickly.

Jarl Hralfar

The others read over my shoulder. 

I look at the messenger and ask urgently, “How long were you travelling?!  From the time you got this letter to the moment you walked in that door, how long was it?”

“This is the third day,” he replies quickly, raising his hands like I was pointing a sword at him.  “I would have been here yesterday, but I was slowed by a troop of bandits that tried to raid me.  My horse outran them.”

“Three,” I repeat under my breath.  “That only leaves us with four days to get to Fragruss.”

“Four days?” James questions.  “Four days?!  How the dingflies are we going to get to Fragruss in four days?!”

“Why?” asks Aela, concerned.  She takes the letter and reads it quickly.  “Not good,” she mutters.

“That’ll take us thirteen days just to get there!” James panics.  “Eleven or twelve if we’re moving fast!”

“Horses,” I reply.

“Oh,” he mutters, looking down.  “Right, that’s faster.”

“I can spare a few horses for you,” Kjunn says when I look for his approval.  “You know where the stables are?”

“Yes,” I nod.

“Simply tell the stable master I sent you and that it’s urgent.  He will allow you to take the six you will need.  I am assuming you are all going?”

Nobody says anything otherwise.

“Make haste,” Kjunn says softly.  “Be strong, as you need to be.  I pray to Khaoth that it will all play out for the better.”  Then he looks to me.  “I fear that they may try to attack you again.  Always keep up a careful guard.  Be ready.”

We pack with food from his stores that he has generously offered us.  We leave within the hour that we received the letter, almost running down the steps from Stormguard into the city.  The stable sits next to the barracks on the left of the enormous staircase.  As Kjunn promised, the stable master is cooperative and allows us six horses.

The gate opens to let us leave.

Then we are on the road once more.

Aela leads us strongly from atop her chestnut, though there’s not much leading to be done on a road such as this.  There is constantly a nag in the back of my mind. 
Four days.  Four days.  Four days…

I expect an attack similar to the one that plagued us on the road to Kera.  None comes.

The plains pass quickly, but not nearly as quickly as I would like.  Always the mountains rise to our right, and the forest stretches to the left in the distance.

We make camp a little ways from Thrak.  It gets too dark too quickly to get to the city.

I take the first watch and pass the baton to Nathaniel.  I sleep little and wake early, during James’s shift.  It’s very early; probably an hour before sunrise.

I lay on my side, contemplating, trying to get a little more sleep before we have to load the horses again and continue our journey.  The fire lies just in front of me, now burned down to white ashes and coals.  Nathaniel and Percival are to my left and right, with Jericho on Nathaniel’s other side.  Aela lies asleep on the other side of the fire.  We make a nice little ring around the still-warm embers.  The horses are tied to the trees directly behind me, next to a large rock formation.

Then I look at James, who is dutifully sitting up with his back against a tree, looking the same direction I am.  He does not know I am awake.

Three days
, I think. 
We can make it.

Then I hear slight rustle from behind me.  My brows furrow as I try to pinpoint exactly what the sound is.  Then my eyes widen as I realize.

I spring up with my hammer, startling James into toppling over.  In the same movement I twist around and find several men cloaked in grays and blacks.  They stand with the horses, two of which have already been untied.

I dart towards them with a yell, but I am too late.

Not caring anymore for stealth, they slash the ropes with their drawn swords and each take one of the six horses.  I smash two of them and another tries to hop on an already-occupied horse, but his acquaintance leaves him in the dust and I dispatch him quickly.  Then they ride away with our horses.

“Fantastic,” I say as I watch them disappear on the horizon.  “Absolutely super.”

By this time all of the others are up as well, standing with their weapons drawn.  “We have to move out,” I say.  “Now.”

“How are we going to get to Fragruss in three days without horses?” asks James.

“We can’t,” I answer.  “It’s not possible.  It’ll take us a week from here.”

“Yes we can,” Aela says quietly, almost shyly.

“Explain,” I coax, looking at her.

We sheathe our weapons as she begins to speak.  “We can take Dracynnval’s Pass,” she says.

I raise an eyebrow.  “What’s that?”

“A pass through the mountains just below Thrak,” she answers.  “It lets out just north of Fragruss.  If we’re fast it will easily cut four days from our time.”

“Is it dangerous?” Jericho asks.  “I’ve heard that the Wvolfa inhabit these mountains. A pass like that would attract them like nothing else.”

She shakes her head.  “I’ve been through this pass a few times.  I’m a hunter by trade and the tower at the top makes a great camping spot.  I’ve never encountered anything more malicious than rats there.”

“Sounds like that’s what we’ve got to do,” I decide.  “We have to move quickly if we’re going to get there in time.”

We hardly stop to even look at the gates of Thrak.  Still we continue on.  This is where Aela begins to lead.

We continue along the road for another hour, and then she leads us right and into the brush of the mountain.  “Are you sure about this?” James asks.

“Do you want to get there or not?” she asks.  James shuts his mouth.

A ways up the mountain, she turns us right and we stumble onto a path hidden from view.  It leads up the mountain and through the range.  It will be our salvation.

Or our demise.

The Battle of Dracynnval’s Pass

G
rass grows in dark green tufts.  Around us the soil is dark, almost black.  The trees and boulders are just thick enough that we cannot see the main road that leads around the mountain range.  We, and the road that leads to the pass, are completely hidden from view.

I keep every dagger loosened in its sheath, as well as my hammer.  My hands hover over the hilts on my belt, ready to throw at any time.  I may not be able to react quickly enough with my hammer, but a throwing knife will definitely do the trick.

Three days
, I think. 
Three days.

Our time is waning faster than we are moving, but we can only travel so quickly.  It’s like watching an axe fall in slow motion and being unable to stop it.

The path evens out slightly onto a relatively flat portion of the mountains.  A lake sits to our right, and the trees get thicker.  The path leads through the trees and cuts across the side of the mountain to the left.  It would have offered a spectacular view of the lake, but unfortunately the trees hinder our visibility in all directions.  It’s partway into this valley that we make camp.

Two days.

I’m beginning to get a little frantic.  We had already been moving at a fast pace, but we lengthen our stride and press onward and upward with increasing quickness.

It’s on this day that the pass comes into sight, much to everyone’s relief.  The trees clear slightly as we come up out of the valley, and the pass becomes clearly visible higher up on the mountain.

It sits between the slopes of two mountains.  The path squeezes through them and lets out on the other side; Dracynnval’s Tower rises from behind the right cliff.  It disappears as we plunge back into the trees.

As we trudge up the mountainside, the dirt path beneath us becomes stone stairs, worn and cracked with age.  The trees here are thin and scraggly.  A huge trunk lies to the side of the stairs, at one with the ground.  Its decaying flesh has merged it with the earth.

Then the trees are gone, and we are left climbing the stairs up to the narrow pass.  To the sides, there are only rocks of every shape and size, but all of them are black.  They create small barren fields between us and the surrounding cliffs that hem us in.

The stairs turn from grey to black.

An archway spans the top of the pass, right above the point where the path passes through.  It is far from intact, however.  Chunks of its wall are missing and there are holes in its sides.  It seems to be leaning to one side.  The stone bricks that do remain are cracked and probably won’t support much weight.

The stairs lead all the way up to the arch, and the ground only evens out once we go through.  However, we put off entering.

To the right, Dracynnval’s tower does its best to reach the sky.  A couple of tall pines compete with it mightily.  At the base of the tower sit the remains of a fortress.  Only one room seems to still be intact, and it lies just in front of the tower.  The rest of the fortress lies in ruins.  The sun, getting low in the sky, is beginning to cast orange light around the old keep.

A blood-red banner flies atop the tower.  It bears a black insignia:  A twisting dragon inside of a black ring, with only the tip of his tail barely making contact with the inside of the ring.  His wings are spread, but become one with the ring and do not go beyond the black circle.

“How does Diagrall control this place?” I question under my breath.  “How?  In the middle of our lands?!”

“We cannot turn back,” Aela says.  “If we want to have any chance of getting through to Fragruss, we have to get through this pass.”

“I know,” I mutter.  “We’ll have to be stealthy and quick.  We do not know how many there are.”

Every one of us draws our weapons.  Then we begin to step through the arch.

A twisted mass of rusted metal bars lies to the left, leaning against the cliff.  I recognize it vaguely as a portcullis. 
That’s quite the catapult to do that,
I think. 
But how did they get it up here?

That question is one for me to answer at another time.  A campfire sits about fifteen feet from the door of the tower, with several armored men sitting around it.  Their armor is silver with black veins running throughout it.  The crest of Diagrall, identical to the one emblazoned on the flag, is printed on their helmets.  One of them points us out with a yell and all of them draw their weapons.

So it begins.

We charge and Percival takes a blow on his shield as I smash in the chest of an assaulter.  Another goes down underneath my hammer; James twists out from underneath an opposing strike and counters with effective precision.  The man does not emit one sound as he falls with blood running from his chest.

Aela!

One of the soldiers backs away, lifting a drawn bow with a nocked arrow.  He’s aiming straight at Aela.

Suddenly I am seeing from the eyes of my father.  Aela becomes me, fighting the soldiers of Tygnar.  I have just emptied their dungeons of all their prisoners, and we are fighting our way out.  The archer takes aim at me, my strongest son.  As my father I feel the terror.  I feel responsibility.  I feel strength.  I feel sacrifice.

The vision snaps away as the arrow is loosed from the bow and flies straight and true towards Aela’s heart.

And it pierces my left shoulder.

Searing pain shoots through my left arm, but I do not let myself falter.  Despite the arrow sticking from my shoulder, I wield my hammer with augmented strength and with a roar I crash through their growing numbers and stab the spike of my hammer into the archer.  Surprise flits across his face, and then freezes there as he dies.

Their soldiers take courage at the sight of the arrow.  It does them no good.

“Into the tower!” I roar.  They hear my cries and my troop runs for the door.

I slam in the breastplate of another soldier, easily breaking some ribs.  Even if he is not dead, he will not be able to fight.

One of their men tries to evade me by throwing his weight backwards, but my hammer still catches his helmet and throws him, probably twisting his neck.

The door is locked, but I do not let that stop me.  With a single stroke I have broken the door inward and we get inside the tower.

“Get those barrels!” I command, holding the door shut.  Percival cuts aside two men and rolls a barrel on its edge.  It’s full of something, but it doesn’t matter what.  It’s full, and that’s what matters.

With the arrow still sticking from my shoulder I place the barrel where I had been standing to block the door.  I knock aside another three men and place the second barrel that Percival brings to me.  James bashes against an oncoming blow with his shield, throwing the soldier onto his back.  Jericho finishes him quickly.

Then all is quiet in the tower.  Outside the men are roaring and banging on the door, but I place two more barrels in the way and pick up one of the enemy swords.  I remove the wooden bar I had shattered and replace it with the sword, effectively barring the door.

I study the tower for only a moment.  The floor’s stonework is partly covered with dirt, and grasses are growing in the cracks.  A spiral staircase winds up the far wall, to the higher levels.  A door to the right leads to the only remaining room of the fortress.  There are a few lit torches to bring light into the otherwise dark room.

Aela stares at me.  “You…” she starts.  “You… took that arrow for me.”

I nod and pull the arrow out quickly.  Then I take a bottle of wine from the nearby table, smash the narrow top, and pour it on the wound.

“Alcohol,” I explain to James, who is looking at me like I’m mad.  “Cleans the wound.”

“But… why?” says Aela softly.  “You hardly know me.”

“Because you are my friend,” I reply.  “You were in danger and I was not going to let you die.”

There’s a particularly loud bang on the door and Jericho jumps.  “What’s the plan now?” he asks in frenzy.  “We have locked ourselves in and have no way to go but out.”

“There’s no way for them to go but in,” I reply.  “Aela and Nathaniel, I need you to get to the higher levels and hit them with your arrows.  There should be windows on the next floor specifically for that purpose.”

Aela seems shocked.  “I’m not…” she begins.

“Not what?” I press hastily as another bang sounds on the door.

“I’m a hunter of animals, not people…” she says quietly.

“Very well,” I reply.  “But get used to it if you’re serious about joining the army.  Nathaniel, go on.  Jericho, go with him.  See if you can find a bow.  There’s got to be one around here somewhere.”

“Yes, sir,” he mutters.  Then both run up the staircase and out of sight.

“What are we going to do?” asks James.

“We’re going to fight,” I respond, kicking aside one of the barrels.  I hear a loud yell of pain from the other side and say, “Nathaniel must have found a window.”  I roll a second barrel from the door and then a third.  The sword bends as the enemy presses upon the door.

I move aside the last barrel and look to my team for permission.  When Percival nods, I knock the sword from its place and the door flies open.

My hammer immediately clotheslines at least three of them.  James stabs another in the armpit, where their armor is weak, and Percival skillfully downs a fifth.  Aela tries to make herself look small in the stairway.

I whirl and knock one of them in the back of the head.  Percival twists and stabs his sword into an enemy, but is unable to withdraw it to block the next stroke in time.  Their sword cuts open his right thigh, and he falls to his knees with a cry of pain.

My hammer stops the blow that would have been fatal.  “Aela, help Percival!” I command, smashing his attacker into the wall.  Percival weakly makes his way to her, where she copies my wine trick and helps him rip off a part of his undershirt to bandage the wound.  It bleeds heavily.

I defend them mightily.  Every soldier to stand against me is thrown down.  Every one of them dies.

I glance at James as his sword is twirled from his grasp and he absorbs three blows on his shield.  He falters and one of them slices open his right arm, across his bicep.  He emits no cry, but clenches his teeth and bashes with his shield, throwing them back to me and their doom.

A new figure steps through the door.  His cape is red and he wears a red plume atop his helmet.  He wields a longsword in each hand, and his dark eyes do their best to pierce me.  They fail.

He is faster than me, but I am stronger.  He pushes against my hammer with both swords and says, “Dragonhammer!  I never thought I’d get the chance to kill you!  The name of Captain-”

I never learn his name, as I bash my hammer into his knees and stab the spike through his armor easily.  He dies instantly.

For whatever reason, he was the last.  I stand and behold the carnage for a few seconds.  “I’m tired of people saying they’re going to kill me,” I comment to James.  He smiles dimly.

Blood soaks the ground, and just about everything else for that matter.  I don’t bother to count the number of bodies.

Nathaniel and Jericho run down the stairs, almost running into Aela and Percival, who are still working on his wound.  The bleeding has slowed.  I rip off a part of my own shirt and tie it around his leg as a second layer, being sure to make it as tight as I can.  Then I offer my hand to Percival.  He takes it and stands, keeping his weight off of his right leg.

“I’ll be okay,” he says.  “But I don’t know how we’ll make the trip down the mountain in a single day.”

“We have to stop for the night,” I answer.  “You can’t walk right now.  Tomorrow will be better.”

“No,” he rejects as I sit him down in a chair at the table.  “You have to leave me.  There’s no way I’ll make the trip in time.  You will travel much faster without me.”

I ponder his wisdom.  “I will go on,” I say.  “James and Jericho?”  They stand by me.  James clutches his wound, which he has wrapped up hastily like Percival.  “Do not stay here.  Walk with Percival as quickly as you can but do not force him faster than he is able.  Aela and Nathaniel will come with me.”

Everyone nods their consent.

The sun has set, and the moon is too dim for us to safely make our way down the mountain to Fragruss.  We make camp outside the fort, as close to the cliff as we can.  We keep a heavy watch, and I get little sleep.

That morning, I, Aela, and Nathaniel leave much earlier than the other three.

“Come as quickly as you can,” I advise.  “We will see you again.”

“Farewell,” Jericho says, offering his hand.  I take it and we shake.  James does the same. 

Then I sit down next to Percival and say, “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I won’t,” he grins.  “They did that for me.”  He gestures to the soldiers lying stiffly on the ground.

“Be quick,” I smile.  “I will see you soon.”

“Yes you will,” he responds.  Then we begin down the mountain trail.