by Logan Petty
Sawain’s gaze fell. “The night I found that letter, I also came across Fort Vigilant. The fortress was ravaged and surrounded by an army that filled the hills and valley around it. I tried to return to warn the Segrammir, but I was young and foolish. I got lost and let the tides of fate carry me. I think they were waiting for Anvilheim’s armies to go south and catch them in a pincer.”
Axel shook his head. “We broke away, not suspecting treachery. Our band followed the gnolls west, into the mountains and tracked them south that way. If this is true, we would have turned eastward again long after the battle. Anvilheim could be in grave danger.”
Sawain nodded, “That’s why I want you to go back. I’ll meet up with you as soon as I can.”
Kyra shook her head. “I’m going with you. You can’t make that journey alone. Like Axel said, we spent a long time in those mountains. I can guide you.”
The doors opened again, this time revealing Vaskar. The three heroes bowed to him, but he gestured for them to rise.
“Please, no need for such formalities. Forgive me, but I overheard your plan to leave. I cannot offer much aid to your efforts, but I would like to lend a handful of my best warriors. Before you leave, I will have the chefs round up the leftovers of the feast, so you may have victuals for the trail.”
Sawain smiled, “Thank you, Segrammir. Any support you can offer is too much.”
Vasakr shook his head. “I wish I could do more, but the truth is Jordborg is barely on its feet as it is. It will take us time to rebuild our defenses and train a new army. When the time comes to march on the Grey King, I want to make sure we can join the final fight.”
Sawain nodded, “I understand and look forward to seeing you again. I will round up the Ghosts and will be on our way soon. There is much to do.”
. . .
The evening sun sank low into the sky as Sawain, the Ghosts of Alfhaven, and the surviving members of the Dawnstar Company gathered outside of the front gate of the city. Vaskar and Rognur approached them. The company bowed to Vaskar, who waved them off.
“Not sure I will get used to that. Did you get the supplies I sent to you?”
Sawain patted a laden sack on Eldingbál’s side. “We did, thank you. This should last us a good while yet. Before we leave, I just want to say thank you for your hospitality. The bulk of my forces can stay and help clean up the party tomorrow, but they will need to start making their move north after that. Axel, Syd, I leave them in your capable hands.”
Sydarion raised an eyebrow. “What about Kyra?”
The mage in question strode over to Sawain’s drake and climbed onto his back. “I’m going to make sure Sawain comes home this time.”
Sawain blushed as Syd nudged Axel with a grin on his elvish face. The other Ghosts checked their equipment and said goodbye to Vaskar and Rognur as a rush of mighty wind nearly knocked them over. Ylsgrin landed with an earth shaking thump nearby. He lowered his head to Vaskar.
“Congratulations on your promotion, young Segrammir. May you reign long. I hear my test subjects are trying to sneak away without saying goodbye to me.”
Mari hopped down from Song and ran up to the dragon, hugging his ankle. Ylsgrin smiled, his fangs flashing. He nudged the small elf fondly with his snout, nearly knocking her down.
“Goodbye, Mariten of Alfhaven. Try to keep that barbarian of yours in check, will you? I’d hate for him to break any more priceless artifacts.”
Sawain rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey, I apologized for that already. Go easy on me, master librarian.”
Ylsgrin chuckled deeply as Mari backed up. “I shall be checking in on you from time to time to see how my observations pan out. Try to stay alive long enough for me to gather sufficient data.”
Sawain nodded and let a grin develop on his face, though Mari and Kyra both scowled at him. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but thank you again for all your help, Ylsgrin. We could not have done it without you.”
The dragon shrugged, looking away. “I did nothing but observe. Although there was that one time those pesky vermin tried to hinder my work. I did not take kindly to that. One of them even scratched me! The nerve of some creatures, treating a dragon with such disrespect. They got what they deserved, I say.”
Sawain laughed as he looked around at his team. The sun sank to the edge of the distant mountains in the west. He glanced at the dark range a moment before addressing the Ghosts.
“Alright, we’ve drawn out our goodbyes long enough. It’s time to go.”
Vaskar stopped him a moment. “One last thing before you go. As Xifrieg perished, he called out a name.”
Sawain remembered it well. “Tharixos . . . the Grey King’s true name.”
Vaskar nodded, “You would do well to put it to memory. It could serve you well in the days to come as you gather intel.”
Sawain sat in silence a moment, then looked up at Vaskar. “Soon the day will come when no one will remember the name of Tharixos.”
The Segrammir smiled. “Until that day comes, stay alive.”
Sawain climbed upon Eldingbál, Kyra right behind him. He signaled to the Ghosts to move out and they silently complied. Half a dozen drakes laden with riders and fresh supplies slithered across the sands of Jordborg, moving westward toward a new adventure and another step closer to ending the war with the Grey King once and for all.Vaskar watched them sink into the fading light. Rognur glanced at him.
“You think they’ll make it?”
Vaskar smiled, “He is the only one who can. I’m sure we will hear many great tales on the day he takes the throne.”
Rognur raised an eyebrow, “The throne?”
Vaskar nodded, “If anyone deserves the title of Hero-King, it is Sawain. Just wait and see. I’m not sure which Hold will claim him, but the one that does will be richer for it.”
-THE END-
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Logan Petty is a native of Georgia in the United States. He has earned a B.A. in English and works as a librarian and Young Adult Coordinator as he writes. He married his wonderful illustrator, Iris Petty, in 2016 and has continued his writing career with her at his side since then. He has always loved fantasy, drawing from reading tales from Tolkien to Lewis and Jacques. He enjoys roleplaying games as well. The theater of the mind is how Hammerhold came into being and he and his friends still play in that world today.