“We have to leave tomorrow,” he says. “As early as is possible. Make sure the men are ready.”
Duels for the Lady
Jarl Hralfar sends a message immediately the next morning with his fastest messenger, commanding the leaders in Fragruss to meet us at Balgr’s monument with reinforcements and siege weapons of any kind. It will take a few days at least to get back to the monument, and then three or four weeks after that to get to Nur’tokh. This will be a very long and hot journey indeed.
The first few days pass in silent frustration. As planned, siege weapons from Fragruss meet us as we pass Balgr’s Monument. Pulled by horses or oxen, they rumble slowly behind our marching force.
Some of the soldiers glare at Ullrog as we march or set up camp. He ignores them and manages to avoid eye contact with almost all of them. Those with whom he does make eye contact are stared down into submission. To others, he is simply invisible. Aela is quite the opposite. She is one of very few women in the entire army, let alone our company. The men leave Genevieve alone because of the violent reactions they have received in the past, but Aela has yet to teach them that lesson.
The summer air is hot in Greendale, but not nearly as hot as it would be in the desert. For the first time we are marching with no road beneath our feet, but we are used to the rocky ground and remain unhindered in our march. The oxen and horses pulling the siege weapons plow over the plains with ease. Again I am thankful for the decision to march through Greendale rather than through the desert, as the sand would prove an incredible deterrent.
Percival looks north towards Fragruss as we pass Balgr’s Monument. His brow wrinkles like he’s thinking and his hands clasp behind his back. Jarl Hralfar has stopped the company and is speaking with whoever brought the siege weapons. I say nothing to my friend, but leave him to his thoughts. When we continue marching, the same expression stays on his face, but he looks at the ground beneath his feet.
James is equally as solemn, but shows it by keeping quiet when he normally couldn’t resist cracking a sarcastic comment. Even since we joined the force he has consistently been less jovial, but recently the effects have been worse.
As we set up camp there are few words traded. Aela is still as hard-headed as ever, and so refuses to talk about much of anything. Not that there’s much to talk about anyway.
Ullrog and I each lift a pole of our tent and stake it down while Percival and Jericho do the same on the opposite side. James gathers fuel for the fire.
Ullrog slams the stake into the hard ground with a single pound and stands. Another soldier bumps into his shoulder vigorously as he passes, but Ullrog simply turns towards his pack and pulls it inside the newly erected tent to unpack his bedroll. Aela leans guardedly against a large rock.
“Dragonhammer,” somebody says behind me. I turn and stand to give him my attention. I’m a little dismayed to see Druam: the soldier who previously tried coming on to Aela, and has given Ullrog an especially hard time.
“What do you need?” I ask, towering over him by several inches.
He glances at Aela, who looks in our direction momentarily. “Let’s go for a walk,” he says.
“What for?” I ask.
He leans forward slightly. “There are things I would rather not let the lady hear.”
My eyes flick to Aela, who is looking the other way. Then I reply, “Very well.”
He leads me aimlessly all over the camp and begins by saying, “I can’t help but notice, Captain, that your company is treated by the presence of a young and beautiful woman.”
Something inside me wrenches and my nose twitches, but I keep my voice level. “I don’t deny it,” I reply. “What of it?”
“I, as well as some of the other soldiers, have been wondering why she strictly resides beside you.”
“She’s a friend,” I say coolly.
“Is that it?” he mutters. “Only friends?”
“I assure you there is nothing happening there,” I contest forcefully. “She is a soldier and a friend. Even if there was more there than there is, it would be none of your business.”
“And you would tell me the same thing, no doubt.”
“Why are you bringing this up? I see no point in this discussion and I have better things to do than argue over a girl with another soldier.”
He’s taken aback slightly. “I meant no harm, Captain,” he says after a moment. “I want only to say that a man gets hungry when he has no food, if you get my meaning.”
“You won’t touch her.”
“I’m not scared of you, Captain.”
“No?”
He shakes his head, but refuses to make eye contact.
“Odd,” I reply. “It seems every other person on the continent is.”
“You can’t protect her forever,” he continues.
“You keep your paws off,” I retaliate. “Or you’ll find out why she doesn’t need protecting.” Bored with the conversation, I turn and stride away from him, back to my tent.
“What didn’t he want me to overhear?” Aela asks when I lean against the rock next to her.
“Watch your back,” I say. “He’s not the only one who’s got his eye on you.”
That night I sit next to Aela at the fire. Percival fills his bowl of stew from the pot over the fire and sits across from me, and Ullrog steps to the fire. As he straightens up, a passing man knocks the bowl and spills the contents onto the ground, barely missing Ullrog’s dirty tunic. The orc’s lip tightens and his eyes shut as his brow hardens, but then he softens and takes a deep breath.
“Whatcha gonna do, greenie?” says the soldier.
“I’m gonna get me some more soup,” Ullrog growls as he turns back towards the pot.
“Only one helping,” says another. Ullrog stares him in the face as he fills his bowl and sits down on my other side. The soldier cows beneath his gaze and says nothing else.
“Why do you put up with that?” I ask him.
He lowers the bowl from his mouth, as he doesn’t use a spoon, wipes his lips with the back of his hand, and says, “Violence encourage them. If man hurt orc, it okay. If orc hurt man…” He shrugs and looks at the ground. Then he raises the bowl to his fanged mouth. I catch a glimpse of the amulet hanging around his neck, but it’s tucked behind his shirt so I cannot study it.
I nod. “It’s all wrong,” I say. “You said you are from Arthensgulf? Fellhammer Stronghold?”
He nods as the bowl comes down from his lips. “Felverar Yrgrothim,” he says. “Tribe Grokh’naht.”
“You have family there?”
He hesitates before rumbling, “No.” He surveys me and I see something in his dark eyes. There’s fire. Death. Betrayal. Hatred. Love.
“What happened?” I ask softly.
His face wrinkles and his brow points into a horrible ‘v.’ His breathing intensifies, his muscles shake and the stew ripples in his hands. Then he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. The shaking stops. He opens his eyes and growls one word. “Fire.” Then he drains his stew in a single draught and stands to place it in the washbasin.
James talks to Jericho quietly. Percival stares into the fire longingly, still clinging to his empty bowl of stew. Nathaniel sits next to him, most likely not aware that Percival’s not paying any attention to a single word he’s saying. Aela is eavesdropping on everybody, I assume.
“Do you know what we’re going to do once we’re done in Nur’tokh?” Aela asks.
“Join the fight in Watervale,” I respond. “We’re going to chase them out of our lands and then all the way into their own. We can’t afford to stop.”
She twirls her dagger in her hands, then stops and studies the pommel. “Why?”
“You know the answer to that,” I respond. “The same reason we’re chasing Titus to Nur’tokh. Because if we let him live, he will not stop until he has killed or enslaved every one of us. I can’t let that happen.”
She nods. “How do you love them so much?”
“What?”
>
“They’re the reason you’re fighting, aren’t they? Your family, I mean.”
I look up at James and Jericho, who are laughing about something James has just said, and Nathaniel has gotten Percival to say at least a few words. Ullrog stands menacingly at the entrance of our tent, staring into the fire. The light flickers off of his eyes like they’re mirrors.
“Yes,” I respond. “They are.” She waits for an answer to her first question. “I don’t know,” I finally say. “I just do.”
As we pack up our camp early the next morning, Genevieve passes us doing her usual rounds. She finds the occasional soldier fighting sleep and helps them along a little bit, usually in ways involving some water or a solid kick. “Let’s get out quick,” she says as she passes. She nods to me. “We need to make good time.”
James gives her a wink and she shakes her head as she passes.
Druam glances at me while he lowers one of the poles of his tent. He glances at Aela, who is obliviously stamping out the fire. Then he looks away.
The sky is clear and the wind is at our backs. Today I choose to walk with Percival. Aela marches on my other side.
Percival still has the same expression on his face. “What’s the matter?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “It’s starting to get to me, Kadmus,” he says, looking me in the face.
I nod. ‘The war?”
He nods. “In a way.” I give him a look that asks for an explanation, and he continues, “I miss my family.”
I take a deep breath. “Me too, Percival.”
“It’s been a long time,” he says. “And on top of it all, there’s this… uh…”
I raise an eyebrow. “What?”
He shakes his head and grins.
“It’s Serena, isn’t it?”
He nods. “I want to see her again. I’m afraid of dying and leaving them all. Would they miss me?”
“I don’t know a single person who wouldn’t miss you,” I respond. “Except maybe James.”
He laughs.
When his smile dies, I take another deep breath and assure, “You’ll see them again, Percival.”
“I hope so,” he says. “I hope so.”
After camp is set up, Nathaniel studies the hunting knife I made for him several months ago. The steel is shining; he polishes it daily.
“This knife has saved my life, Kadmus.”
“Good,” I respond. “I meant it for hunting animals, but at least it’s serving you well now.”
“It is,” he says, pulling a thick stick from his pack. “In battle and out.” Then he starts to whittle at the bark of the stick. His strokes are long and smooth on the straight portions of the stick, but when he hits a knot he carefully carves the bark away with small strokes.
“Do you miss mother?” he asks suddenly.
“Of course,” I reply. “I think of her every day.”
“And Nicholas and Ethan?”
“Yes,” I agree. “Them too.”
He nods and says, “I miss them. A lot. Not like Father though.”
“No,” I concede. “Not quite like him.”
“I want to see my sister again,” James says suddenly from across the fire. “I hope she’s alright.”
“I’m sure they’re all safe in Terrace,” I reply.
“Except Father,” Nathaniel says quietly.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Except Father.”
Ullrog listens intently from his spot by the tent. He’s standing with his arms folded and appears to be deep in thought. What is your story? I wonder. Why would you bring yourself out here and go through all of this?
Aela shifts in her seat uncomfortably, but I sense it may not be physical discomfort. “I’m sorry,” she says so only I can hear.
Another figure enters our circle and stands silently for a moment, basking in the knowledge that he is unwanted there. “Hello,” he says.
“Druam,” I greet. “Is there something you need?”
“I believe so,” he says, taking a step forward. I know what he will say before he says it. “But I require it of the lady.”
Aela’s brow furrows and she scowls up at him with an ‘are-you-serious’ look.
“Would you be so kind as to grace me with your presence this night?” he asks with a fake bow.
“Why would I do that?” she asks bluntly.
“Such beauty,” he says, reaching his hand out. The corner of my lip turns up and I glance at Ullrog. Words traverse between us silently and he nods his understanding, taking his hand from the hilt of his sword and folding his arms again.
Aela stands abruptly and Druam’s hand drops out of surprise. “What makes you think words will bring me to you?” she asks. “I will spend my time with whom I choose.”
Druam’s face softens and his hand rises again. “Such beauty,” he says again.
There’s a glint of firelight across Aela’s wrists and I realize that she is still wearing her gauntlets. Her fist comes back and Druam cocks his head inquisitively. Then she launches her steel-clad fist across his face with a loud smack!
I glance at Ullrog, who is nodding his satisfaction. He looks at me and the corner of his lip goes up.
Druam touches his left cheek gingerly, where a new bloody scratch mars his face. “And such passion,” he sneers. Her ‘are-you-serious’ look comes back. “Tell you what,” he says. “I challenge you to a duel. If I win you get to come with me.”
She folds her arms. “And when I win?” she counters caustically.
He shrugs.
Her face brightens and she says, “You pay me.”
“Like gambling?” he says.
“Similar,” she says.
“Sounds good to me,” he agrees, drawing his sword.
She moves to her bags and flicks both of her blades out in a single move. Druam seems slightly intimidated as she takes her stance. “Well come on!” she says. An arrogant smirk curls across his face as he readies himself.
“Somebody start us,” he says. One of the other soldiers stands, waits a moment, and then suddenly says, “Go!”
Druam’s sword swings at her chest, but she blocks with her right and dives in with her left. Druam barely moves his sword in time to block the strike but then her right catches his weapon and she throws the sword from his grasp. He stiffens and raises his hands when she points both tips at his neck. “Best two of three,” he says.
She shakes her head, but concedes with a grunt and lets him retrieve his sword. The fire glints from all three blades and Druam winks at Aela before the same soldier begins the fight with the word “Go!”
This time Druam is more wary, and waits for Aela to strike first. I can see the thought process in her eyes before she throws a few experimental blows. All three are blocked. She readies herself again and I can see that she dearly wishes that she could just take his life and be rid of the whole ordeal, but she knows that doing so wouldn’t exactly be in her best interests.
Then she unleashes a flurry of blows so fierce that after only a few seconds Druam simply drops his sword. Then he ogles at the blade on the ground as if wondering how in the world it got there.
“There,” she says, lowering her swords. “Now I believe you owe me.”
“That was the deal,” he says after staring for a moment. “How?” he asks.
“I’m a better fighter than you and beat you fair and square,” she says. “Now pay up.”
“You…” Druam begins, his eyes squinting slightly. “But you’re a woman!”
“And I still beat you,” she presses. “Now pay up before I punch you again.”
He mutters something inaudible as he digs in his pocket and throws her a single gold coin. She catches and pockets it immediately.
Druam looks at Ullrog, who wears a smug smile. “What are you smiling at, greenie?” the humiliated soldier asks angrily. Ullrog’s smile only gets larger.
“Well fought,” Percival says once Druam finally leaves.
Agreed, I think.
Where did you learn to fight like that?
Much to our dismay, one of Druam’s cronies shows up at our fire. None of us have a chance to say anything before he says candidly, “Might I have a go?”
Aela’s eyes widen and she looks at me, and then back at the soldier. “Why?” she asks.
“Same reason he wanted,” he replies plainly.
Aela shakes her head and looks at the ground. “You realize you’re fighting for the same stakes?”
“That’s worth it.”
“Whatever,” she mutters, drawing her swords again. “Percival, start us.”
Percival waits for the other soldier to unsheathe his sword and heft his shield before he barks, “Go!”
It’s obvious Aela is already getting irritated because of the speed with which she attacks. I can see it in her face.
His shield is a huge advantage, but she is simply a better warrior. It’s hard to catch exactly what is happening, but suddenly both of them freeze. Aela’s right sword is up against the shield, but her left found its way around and to the neck of her challenger.
“Best two of three?” he appeals.
“No,” Aela responds.
“You gave it to-”
“Don’t care. I wasn’t planning on more fights after that anyway.”
A little chagrined, the soldier tosses her a gold coin and walks away. One of the soldiers on the other side of the fire opens his mouth to say something, but Aela interrupts before he can get out a single letter, “Don’t even think about it.”
The soldier, chastised, shuts his mouth muttering lowly, “Yeah, okay…”
Aela looks at me and I give her a small smile. She shakes her head, but for the first time, she can’t help but to give me a little smile back.
The Ha’avjah Desert
“Where did you say you learned to fight?” I ask Aela as we set up camp the next evening.
“I just felt that I needed to know how to defend myself,” she answers. “It’s not safe in this world.”
“But where did you learn?”
“I was taught by one of the best in Kera. Found the best that I could and he taught me well.”
“Well it’s certainly not what they expected last night.”
Dragonhammer: Volume II Page 7