The Hammer's Fall

by Summers, Derick

  Of course it fit like it had been made for her, she thought with a laugh. It had been.

  As she studied the dagger blade, she noticed the small letters etched into it near the base. L.H. She smiled to herself, like she’d ever forget where it came from. She slid the blade back into the sheath and strapped the weapon on. It hung comfortably against her hip.

  Upon stumbling out of El’s chamber, Logan had taken a few minutes to calm his racing pulse before going to Lan’thor’s. He knocked lightly on the door and was quickly invited in. As he stepped in he found Lan packing the rest of his belongings while Raeth sat on the bed watching him. Logan couldn’t help smiling at this.

  “Perfect,” he said. “This will save me looking for you, Raeth.”

  Raeth was back in her full cloak and scarf, though Logan could tell by the wrinkling around her eyes that she smiled.

  “Oh? And why would you be looking for me?” she asked.

  Logan smiled at the assassin.

  “I have something for you,” he replied and Raeth’s brow rose in curiousity. “Actually, I have something for both of you.”

  Lan’thor looked quizzically at him.

  “Lan,” he continued. “Do you remember a promise I made to you ages ago.”

  “What promise?” asked Lan, confused.

  Logan smiled.

  “Well, I promised that whenever I got access to a forge again I would make you something.”

  Lan’s eyes went wide as Logan held out a bundle of leather sheathing and belt.

  “You didn’t?” Lan exclaimed as Logan handed him the weapon and Lan carefully drew the four-foot work of art.

  The blade was single-edged, its design taken from something Logan had seen in an old book his father had used to help teach him his letters. Hagar had figured that the subject matter would make Logan more inclined to learn. His father had been correct, and the instructions as well as the letters had been engraved into Logan’s head. Everything from the one hundred and fifty folds to the acid etching of the blade had stuck with the young smith.

  Dael had been shocked when he found Logan performing the technique. When he’d finished the blade, Dael had questioned him intently about it. Logan explained what he knew about it and where he’d learned it. Though, Dael himself nearly cried when he’d found out that the book had been destroyed in the same attack that had killed Logan’s parents. Dael had to admit that he found it hard to believe that anyone could learn the ancient sword-smith techniques from a book, but as Logan finished the blade, Dael was forced to acknowledge the young smith’s skill.

  It was actually Dael who had gotten Logan the silver and gold for the weapon hilts, not to mention the acids for the blades. He’d roughly handed these to Logan with a short.

  “Here! You’ll need this.”

  Lan’thor moved the weapon in fluid thrusts and parries, all the while marvelling at the weapon.

  “Oh, Logan,” he finally exclaimed. “Its amazing. Like a part of my own arm.”

  Logan smiled in response to his friend’s enthusiasm and turned his attention to the assassin seated on the bed, while Lan’thor continued to play with his new blade.

  “And, for you,” he said to the assassin.

  Logan handed Raeth a small roll of leather. The woman eyed it curiously and slowly unrolled it. A dozen plain metal handles extended from a dozen small leather pockets. Raeth pulled one out at random and found a six-inch blade. The blade was flat, leaf-shaped, looked almost delicate and incredibly sharp. A small squeal escaped Raeth’s lips as she balanced the blade in her hand, it was perfect. She quickly spun the blade around her fingers before jumping off the bed and giving Logan a great hug.

  Logan blushed fiercely at Raeth’s outburst of emotion, and Lan’thor’s deep laugh made him turn even redder.

  “I … I’ve got to finish packing,” he stammered as he excused himself and returned to his chamber.

  Lan’thor caught up with Logan again as they left the house to meet up with the caravan preparing to leave from the courtyard. Lan’s hand rested proudly on the hilt of the sword now strapped to his waist. As they entered the courtyard, Logan saw that El was already there. He was pleased to see the dagger strapped to her waist and blushed when she smiled at him from across the yard.

  “Ah, Logan?” came a growled voice.

  So lost in his own thoughts, Logan hadn’t heard the forge master walk up to him. Recovering quickly, he turned to face the grizzled dwarf.

  “Yes sir?” he answered.

  The forge master turned to his assistant who followed at his heels and grabbed up the large bundle that the young dwarf carried.

  “Here, I thought you could use this,” he stated as he handed the bundle to Logan.

  He cast a confused at the dwarf and slowly unwrapped the bundle. He was stunned to silence as he removed the cloth surrounding the object. A silver shine reflected the lights of the courtyard as he pulled a massive battle-axe free from the fabric.

  The weapon had a single, wide blade along one side and a vicious spike along the other. The axe was fluid and beautiful in design with strong curves merging into each other to create a work of art despite the weapons obvious martial intent. The heavy blade had been etched in acid, similar to what he himself had done for Lan’s blade. But, it was obvious that this had been crafted by a true master of the art. Deep burgundy wood polished to a high shine formed the shaft of the weapon, while the grip was wrapped in fine leather. The final detail Logan noticed was the delicate symbols etched into the metal base of the blade. He couldn’t read them, yet they seemed to glow as he ran his thumb along them. They seemed to be speaking to him.

  Logan was taken completely by surprise by the gift.

  “Thank you,” he finally managed to sputter after several moments.

  The forge master waved off Logan’s appreciation before replying gruffly.

  “Yeah, well, like I said, I thought you could use it. Don’t make a fuss. She’s called ‘Leveller’. You just treat her well and she’ll take care of you.”

  Logan clasped the forge master’s arm warmly, his eyes misting slightly.

  “You can work my smithy anytime, lad,” the dwarf muttered quietly.

  The forge master abruptly turned and left bellowing at his assistant to get moving. Logan smiled at the dwarf’s retreating back.

  Chapter Forty-Three: Wagons Roll

  The dwarven caravan moved at a slow but steady pace down from the high mountain passes and north toward the city of Tael. A team of four rugged mountain ponies pulled each of the five heavy wagons. The animals were short and rangy with a temperament that could best be described as stubborn, though Logan probably would have used altogether different words. Magnus had warned them to be careful around the beasts, but even with that extra measure of care, Logan had nearly been kicked twice and bitten once – and that had been by the same damn pony.

  The one thing he couldn’t deny was the fact that the animals were incredibly strong. The first team pulled the wagon that held the travel supplies of the caravan. After that, came the large supply wagons filled to capacity with iron works for sale in Tael. Everything from weapons to house wares could be found stacked neatly in those large wagons.

  Only the covered coach being used to transport the ‘elfin emissaries’ used full-blooded horses. Two beautiful black mares provided the right amount of class and dignity expected from visiting emissaries.

  Logan couldn’t help chuckle to himself. They must have made quite a sight coming out of the mountains, six wagons and a coach, twenty-four ponies, two horses, eighteen dwarves, two elves, a human and him. A big enough group that Magnus assured him they would have no trouble with bandits. Besides, the dwarf had added, all the dwarves were armed and very few wanted anything to do with a band of surly, axe toting dwarves. It wasn’t good for ones health. Logan shared his companion’s laughter.

  Magnus told him that it would take nearly three weeks for the caravan to reach the city. Logan and Lan’thor too
k the opportunity to acquaint themselves with the use of their new weapons; while, El practiced with her new dagger. One evening, Logan even found her learning the art of knife throwing from Raeth. Logan sighed to himself. Everyone was making preparations for what was to come; but, was it fair for him to ask them to put their lives on the line.

  Three days out from Tael, the group met after the evening meal to discuss the final strategies and details before entering the city. The emissary plan still seemed like their best option for getting into the palace itself, but Logan found that the plan still left him wanting. Sure, getting into the palace was a great idea, it would let the friends get into the aristocracy itself and place them in a position of strength from which to work. They could work on diplomatic means to end the slavery issue, while still leaving their options open should they need to seek alternative avenues. But Logan still had doubts.

  “The plan sounds good, but it doesn’t help me find my sister or the rest of those taken from Solan Bay,” commented Logan. “To do that, I’m going to need to know exactly where the slaves end up after they enter Tael.”

  There was silence for a few moments before Magnus finally spoke.

  “New slaves to Tael always end up in the same place Logan, the slave market. From there they could be sent to one of any number of places depending on their appearance, strengths or the state of the market; but, the start point is always the same.”

  Over the next several hours, Logan was able to gain a fair amount of information about the slave trade in Tael.

  The slave market was located just to the north of the main market place, and it was the gathering place for all new slaves in the city. Once there, they were put on display and eventually put on the block for sale.

  Auctions took place every Saturday and buyers had a thirty-day satisfaction guarantee on all the merchandise they purchased. Should a new slave expire from disease or illness or should the owner simply grow weary of them they could be returned and their purchase price applied towards a replacement. If a slave perished at the hands of the owner or from the owner’s inaction then the price of the slave was forfeit. Of course, these rules were subject to change. If one possessed enough money, power or purchased large enough quantities of slaves then the rules tended to be bent in your favour. The rules of the slave market were simple but were definitely subject to the whims of the wealthy. Greed was the major player. If you had enough money you could usually get whatever you wanted.

  If the slave was young, healthy and relatively attractive, he or she ended up in the homes and estates of the various wealthy members of Tael society. Life in these places varied dramatically depending on the personality of the slave’s master. Some slaves found that their masters had strange perversions and fetishes, or wished to use them as breeding stock with other slaves or creatures. Others were required to be little more than typical servants. Generally, the best a slave could hope for in this environment was to go relatively unnoticed by the master.

  Those who didn’t end up in private estates were often picked up by one of the many pleasure houses in Tael. Life in these houses was tough and wearing, with two years being the average life expectancy of a typical slave. After that, the slave either met an overly aggressive patron, contracted some form of social disease or simply been all used up. These slaves were then placed back on the auction block and sold at discount prices, usually to those looking for hard labour and cheap prices.

  The perceived troublemakers, the inhuman or the ugly often ended up in the mine. It was located south of the city and was really more of a prison, though it did produce metals and various minerals for the merchants of Tael. A slave could also be sent to the mine by displeasing the master or by being classified as unmarketable in the slave market. To be considered unmarketable you had to last unsold through at least two auctions. Another way to end up in the mine was to break one of the many laws of Tael. Or rather, not be rich enough to break one of the many laws.

  According to the dwarves, many of the ‘sub-human’ races ended up in the mines so that the human aristocracy of Tael wouldn’t have to look at them. Most of the fairer races found places in the homes, estates and pleasure houses through Tael. It was hard to decide which was actually worse.

  Logan realized that with so much money involved in the slave trade in Tael, the chances of a small group finding a political or diplomatic means of ending it was naïve and unrealistic. The only way to end the trade was to make in unprofitable and to do that they would need a much larger force.

  “I agree the emissary idea is a good one. It gets our people on the inside and in a position of strength,” Logan stated. “But, if we want to do anything with that strength then we need some type of force, and that’s why we should start with the mine.”

  “And what would you suggest we do when we get there?” asked El. “Just waltz in and say ‘Oh, excuse me, would you be a dear and remove the chains from all your prisoners?’ I don’t think so.”

  Logan had gotten used to El’s sarcasm long ago and just shook his head.

  “Of course not,” he continued. “One of us will have to go into the mine and see if we can’t cause a revolt of some sort.”

  “Gods!” El exclaimed in frustration as she began to pace. “Now, he wants to start a civil war.”

  Logan glared at the beautiful elf as Lan’thor took up his case.

  “You know El, he does have a point,” said the tall elf, putting up his hands to forestall El’s explosion.

  “No really,” he continued. “Think about it. We started this to help Logan find his sister and do what he could to free her and the rest of the people from his village. The only way to do that and to make sure it doesn’t happen again is to put a stop to the whole slavery thing. I mean, we all agree its wrong and that means we have to do something about it,” he paused to look around the group. “Its sort of our duty, isn’t it?”

  El was nodding reluctantly and the others simply listened.

  “So, if we want to stop slavery and we’ve decided to start with Tael, we have to cut it out by its root and to do that we have to make it unprofitable. By gaining control of the mine we increase our numbers and also take hold of a major resource that the city depends on. That gives us a bargaining position. It’s not so bad an idea,” he concluded.

  El had placed her hands on her hips while Lan’thor had spoken and took several moments to contemplate his words when he was finished.

  “Magnus,” she finally began. “You said that the fairer races are usually sold in the slave market and that only the sub-human races end up in the mines. So how do we get in there?”

  The group went silent and looked any direction but at the standing elf. An uncomfortable moment passed before Logan softly coughed and drew the group’s attention to himself. El, finally understanding, whirled on him, eyes wide.

  “No,” she pleaded. “Logan, you can’t.”

  “Look at me El,” he said softly. “Little ogre, remember.”

  He smiled gently at the elf before continuing.

  “There is no way that any human would want me in their home.”

  “But Logan, you’d be alone. None of us could go with you. We couldn’t watch your back. Something might happen.”

  Logan rose to his feet and hugged the elfin maid.

  “I know that El, I really do,” he whispered soothingly. “But, I knew this was going to be dangerous when I started it. I’ll do what I have to. Besides, I still need you to get into the palace and find the man in black for me. I’m counting on you to do that, so I can avenge my family and finally lay them to rest.”

  A tear made its way down El’s delicate cheek as she accepted the inevitable. She nodded slowly.

  “So, it’s settled?” he asked.

  “I’m still not happy about it,” she answered.

  Chapter Forty-Four: Divided, But Not Conquered

  As the dwarf caravan made its slow passage past the slave mine, Lan’thor and Raeth left the group to do some scout
ing. They were gone the better part of the day and didn’t rejoin the caravan until just before dusk when everyone was settling for the night. They quickly grabbed some food and sat with the others. Lan’thor spoke before anyone could ask.

  “All right Logan, we saw it. The mine itself is mostly underground from what we could tell and there is only one main entrance into it. The entrance is located in the main compound of a stone fortress. The fortress isn’t that large but it is well built. It would be extremely hard to lay siege to it from the outside and it could easily be held with just a few men. On the walls we saw humans with swords, shields and all manner of other weaponry. Inside …”

  El held up a hand to stop the elf.

  “Wait,” she inquired. “What do you mean inside? I thought you just said you couldn’t get in.”

  Lan smiled a mischievous smile.

  “No, I said it wouldn’t be easy to lay siege to it,” he answered. “One person, with the right talents could probably get into it fairly easily.”

  He gave a pointed look at Raeth and Logan smiled in spite of himself. Raeth continued where Lan’thor left off.

  “I found what seems to be an airshaft in the far corner of the compound. I believe I can probably get into the mine through it. I should be able to leave a rope there. It might be possible for you to bring a small group of people out through the shaft and attack the guards from the inside. I don’t think they’d be expecting that and you should be able to take the mine’s main gate and free the rest of the slaves and prisoners.”

  Logan considered as she spoke. It wasn’t a bad plan, though there were still an awful lot of unknowns. Things like what would he find when he got into the mine itself? What kind of security would he be up against? Would he be able to find the airshaft once he was actually in the mine? But as far as plans went, it was better than most of the ones the group usually came up with. He looked from one to another of his friends.