“Of course not,” he smiles.
She holds his hand as they turn and walk up the few stairs to the back door. She looks down at him and laughs as he trips up the stairs. I see the glint in her eye. Not only does he love her, but she returns the feelings for him. I find myself gazing back until they are inside the house. Then I look down. My hand finds the hilt of the dagger protruding from my belt.
Suddenly Aela comes to mind. Her face places itself in my head and I am unable to get her out. I feel something inside of me, a twisted knot of emotion associated with her: something that I cannot discern.
The maw in my heart, gored there by the death of my father, still refuses to be filled. Something, however, is beginning to trickle inside. I cannot figure out what.
What could possibly fill that void? I wonder. What could replace the loss of my father?
I do not want the answer that seems to be staring me in the face. No, I tell myself. I push aside the thoughts and feelings. I cannot afford the distraction.
Then, instead of the unfamiliar emotion that had been inside me, I find a very familiar anger. The void cannot be filled. Those who put it there must pay with their blood.
I cannot afford the distraction.
“Where have you been?” James asks. “We missed you for lunch.”
“I was out getting my own lunch,” I reply, which actually isn’t untrue. On the way back I stopped at a bakery and picked up a little something to munch on.
“Why?”
“Tired of being in here,” I respond. That isn’t untrue either.
“Very well then,” he concedes. Aela raises an eyebrow at me but says nothing.
“I’m going to go see the Jarl,” I say. “If you want to come, you can.”
“I’m alright,” James says.
Aela, however, rises from her chair and says, “I’ll come.”
I nod. “It’ll be quick, most likely.”
For formality’s sake, I’m wearing my armor and hammer. Aela wears hers as well.
A guard passes us in the hall and gives me a salute, saying, “Captain.” I return the salute but say nothing.
Soon we come upon the large double doors that lead into the throne room. “Captain Armstrong to see Lord Jarl Hralfar,” I state.
“He is not busy,” the guard says, opening the door. “In fact I believe he was about to send for you.”
I walk in with Aela on my tail. Hralfar looks up from the letter he is reading as I walk in, and the corner of his mouth turns up. “I haven’t even sent for you yet,” he says. I notice he’s wearing large furry shoulder pads with his long cape, and he wears his ceremonial armor.
“I felt there was something that needed doing,” I reply. “What’s that?”
“This is a letter from Lord Archeantus,” he says, looking back down at it. “Saying that he is impressed with the way Tygnar and Lord Jarl Swordbreaker were dealt with. He also sends orders. Now that Tygnar is out of the way, our focus is set on Diagrall.”
“Where are we attacking?”
“A city called Balgr’s Fall,” he replies. “About, say, eight days southwest of our position. It’s a port at the mouth of the Juniper River. In its days before the war, it was used as a major trade point between Fragruss and Amnigaddah, as it is connected to them both by water. Now Diagrall uses it to connect the provinces of Vrakkjar and Vjurrkstad.” He points to the locations on the map as he says them. Little colored flags stick up from the cities, signifying who owns which locations. “This allows them to transport soldiers to the eastern side of Mohonri’s armies and surround them.”
“How is it defended?” Genevieve asks.
“I’m getting there,” Hralfar says. “The walls are thick. The gates are strong. The city is guarded by many men and more arrive by ship daily. The inner Keep, known as Balgr’s Bastion, shouldn’t be too difficult to get into; it has only a gate and no portcullis, since last I heard.”
“Weaknesses?” I ask.
“One of the branches of the Juniper River is diverted from the delta and into the city through the lower sewers.” Before Genevieve can ask, he answers, “It is blocked by a thick metal grate above and below the water, but it is a possible entry point if we could somehow remove the grate.”
“That would be loud and difficult,” I comment. “Other weaknesses?”
“The walls aren’t very tall, so ladders would work well, but we cannot possibly hope to overtake a city based entirely upon ladders. It spreads our numbers and allows them to pick us off one by one.”
“Why wouldn’t a frontal assault work?” I ask.
“It may,” the Jarl answers. “But I would like to see if there are other options that would save us lives and time. Siege will cost us dearly in both of those respects, and we do not have the men to spare.”
I nod and think.
“Sounds to me like we need to break in that canal grate,” Genevieve says. “If we can position a catapult just right we may be able to hit it hard enough to knock it out of place.”
“That’s not very discreet,” I argue, “Which is fine if that’s not what you’re going for. I feel that something like that is best done secretly so we take them by surprise.”
“Secrecy is irrelevant if you hit them hard enough. I believe I proved this to you at Fort Greymane when we retook Terrace?”
I recall the incident with an element of irritation. “That was luck,” I retaliate. “You were lucky there weren’t more of them and that they didn’t end up warning the guards in the Keep of our presence.”
“Nonetheless the battle was won,” Hralfar interrupts. “Now cease your squabbling and help me come up with a way to take Balgr’s Fall! It was your plan we used to take Nringnar’s Deep!”
“The canal,” Genevieve says again. “We could build a raft or use a boat, or even swim a couple of soldiers in.”
I ignore her and instead ask, “How do the ships get into the city? You said it was a port, correct?”
Hralfar nods. “There’s a dock at the rear of the city where the ships make port. They keep careful record of all expected shipments and no ship arrives unannounced.”
“Are they expecting any shipments soon?” I ask.
“How should I know?” Hralfar says. “It’s not like I have their business ledger with me.”
Undeterred I move on to my next question. “Do we have any boats at our disposal?”
“Not presently,” he answers. “Even if we did, I do not see how we could sneak an entire army around their city into a fleet of ships and then into the back door of their city.”
“We won’t take the whole army,” I reply. “Only some will go. It’ll work much like the retake of Terrace. While most of their force is occupied at the front gate, we can sneak a small number in through the dock.”
“How do you propose to get a ship?” Magnus asks.
“We can take one that they are expecting to make port,” I explain. “Or better yet, pay off the captain and have him sneak us in. Do we have any spies positioned in the city or in ships that will soon be making port?”
“No,” Hralfar says. “But if we positioned ourselves correctly we could take a ship before it got within range of the city.”
“Yes,” I agree. “And then take them by surprise from the rear.”
Genevieve shakes her head, but concedes, “It will certainly be more discreet than the canal.”
“Do you have any idea when would be the best time to attempt to commandeer a ship?” I ask. “I am unfamiliar with ports and trade.”
“There are constantly ships coming and going,” he responds. “We just need to find one and take it before it reaches the city, without alerting anyone in the city.”
“Are there any captains that support our cause, but participate in the trade with Balgr’s Fall?” I ask. “We may be able to find one and convince him to help us out.”
The Jarl pauses. “Actually, I believe so,” he says. “Captain… oh, his name has slipped my memory…”
“Do you know where he is?” I press.
“I believe he resides in Amnigaddah and frequently sojourns in Balgr’s Fall. He may be able to get us in, with a little bit of… persuasion.”
“Let’s contact him immediately, then!” Magnus exclaims. “Get this done and take the city!”
“That is not so easily done,” Hralfar says. “First of all we have to know who we are looking for. Secondly we must be extremely careful with such risky information. If Diagrall were to learn of our plans, they would destroy us before we could blink. The carrier of this information must not fail.” He glances at me and the corner of my lip turns up. “Are you up for a bit of travel, Captain Armstrong?” he asks.
“Always,” I reply.
He nods. “You shall have horses from the stables here. Take few companions, and only those you know you can trust. Wait for my word before departing. You still need to know who you are looking for.”
Percival hears the news at dinner and leaves quickly afterward, for obvious reasons. With such great distance, he will not see Serena for a fortnight at least.
James agrees to come and Nathaniel volunteers as well. I look to Ullrog, but he says, “I big orc. I attract attention. I no go.” I nod my understanding and let the subject alone.
We go to see Jericho in the infirmary the night before we leave.
“Don’t get yourselves killed,” he says. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Of course,” I reply. “This should only take a couple of weeks at most.”
It’s not until the next morning that I wonder what I have gotten myself into.
Ride to Amnigaddah
Percival, James, Aela, Nathaniel, and I each ride a horse down the west road that will lead us south of the Knifepoint Mountains and straight to Amnigaddah. For speed’s sake we travel at a quick trot, but we do not want to wear out the horses.
The Vrakkjar Plains are brown, to be short in words. All kinds of grasses and shrubs cover the ground and boulders stick out of the earth, much like the Rutgar Plains in Greendale, but without the green. For the most part, the landscape is completely flat except for the boulders.
“What is the name of the captain again?” James asks the first night. I had rejected the same question during the day because you never know who could be listening.
“Captain Alastair,” I reply softly.
“And we’re sure he’s in Amnigaddah?”
I nod. “Or shortly will be.”
Aela is curled with her arms around her knees in front of the fire and a blanket around her shoulders. Such a picture makes her seem helpless, but I know differently.
I look at her face and recall the first time I had seen her, lifeless at the side of the road. Since then, her face has long regained its color.
“I hope so,” Percival says quietly. “It wouldn’t be much fun to finally get there and realize we’re in the wrong place.”
One of the horses snorts and its tail flicks. My eyes narrow as I wonder what the disturbance could have been, but after a few moments I dismiss the thought.
“I’ll take the first watch,” I state. “Get some sleep.”
Aela is the last to obey my words. When she sees she is the last one sitting up, besides me, she reluctantly rolls into her bedroll and falls to sleep.
I allow the fire to die down, but keep it alive enough that the coals stay hot. I have positioned myself far enough from the firelight to escape prying eyes that might try to scout out our campsite, but close enough to reach my comrades should danger befall them.
The horses rest peacefully tied to a large rock, similar to the one on which I rest my back. There’s a constant breeze in this province and it chills me.
After a few hours, I wake Percival for his shift.
The plains begin to roll into hills on the second day. Some of the hills are scarred with expansive boulders or rocky cliff faces, and most of them are tall. Trees are not to be seen for miles.
Our horses carry us dutifully over the hills and we press them faster. Archeantus has ordered the attack on Balgr’s Fall and we would hate to keep him waiting. The city grows stronger with every day we spend on the road.
“I’m getting tired of travelling,” Percival says.
“I’ve been tired of it for a while now,” James agrees.
Aela says very little the whole way to Amnigaddah. She refuses to initiate conversation, and gives minimal answers when spoken to.
When again she is the last one to remain awake, I ask, “Why are you uncomfortable here?”
She is startled by the question. “I…” she begins. Then she shakes her head and starts over, “I don’t belong here.”
“Then why are you here?” I ask.
She thinks. “Because this is where I am supposed to be.”
“But you don’t belong?”
She shakes her head and I think about the paradox for only a moment. “Why?” I ask.
She thinks. “I don’t know,” she finally says.
There’s no doubt inside of me that her statement is a lie, but I do not voice it. What are you hiding? I wonder. Why? “You can trust me,” I comfort. “Why do you believe you don’t belong?”
She shakes her head softly.
Something stirs inside of me once again and provokes me to act outside of my comfort zone.
I scoot closer to her and look into her eyes. It feels as though I’m gazing into a stormy sky, trying to see past the swirling clouds to find what they conceal, and at the same time wondering, Do I want to know? She avoids my gaze.
“You do belong here,” I say quietly. “Regardless of what you may think.”
She looks up and shakes her head sadly.
“Why?” I whisper.
She looks away again and a single tear falls from her face. I reach for her hand, but she recoils immediately and jumps away. “Sorry,” she says softly. Then she rolls over and tries to get some sleep.
Why? I think again. What could you be hiding?
The next day brings us to the land strip just south of the Knifepoint Mountains and into the province of Watervale.
Most of Vrakkjar is squeezed between the Wolfpack and Knifepoint mountain ranges. It’s a narrow province and so took us little time to traverse, but Watervale is wider and will take us much longer. Thankfully, Amnigaddah is only a few more days away.
The Knifepoint Mountains are named for exactly what their name implies: they appear to be a multitude of sharp knives sticking up out of the surface of the world, much harsher than the Wolfpack Mountains; the peaks are sharp, the cliffs are sheer, and the slopes are craggy.
“Wonder what lives in there,” Percival says.
“I’d rather not find out,” I reply.
Much to my relief, the road curves around the southern edge of the mountain range and we steer very clear of the dangerous mountains.
The ground is hard, almost like rock. That is, until we reach the other side of the Knifepoint Mountains.
We trot up a particularly large ridge and look down into Watervale.
It’s green, but not the same as Greendale; Greendale is dark and deep, like pine, but this green is bright. Trees grow everywhere and the grasses are lush in the height of the summer season. Flowers bloom in valleys and across the hillsides. The sun shines brightly and the sky is blue.
The road takes us straight across the face of a large ridge and we pass through a large meadow into a flat plain with short grass and tall deciduous trees. We camp in a clearing that night and Aela refuses to even look at me all of that day.
“Remember the plan,” I say the next morning. “Nobody say anything about the war. Nobody mention anything about Dragonhammer or Jarl Hralfar. Everybody remember our names?”
Everybody nods and says their name as I gesture to them in a circle.
“Charlie,” James says with a smile.
“Leif,” responds Nathaniel.
“Hector,” Percival answers.
“Samantha,” Aela mutters.
“I’d feel safer if you had your hammer,” Nathaniel says.
“Think how I must feel,” I reply. “But it’s all part of the plan. Anything to throw them off.”
Nathaniel nods with understanding.
I take a deep breath as we near the city. “Okay. Someone else take the lead.”
“What?” James says.
“Someone else lead,” I repeat. “Anything to throw them off. If I am leading they may have suspicions. We can’t give any sign that I have authority.”
I turn and look at the blank faces of my companions. After a few moments, Percival speaks, “I will do it.”
I nod. “Take the lead, Hector.”
He moves his horse to the front and we resume our journey.
We come to the Corn River soon, and must cross a stone bridge to follow the road westward to the city. The river is small and the bridge isn’t very long, but on each side of the bridge stands a tall watchtower. Diagrall guards patrol the bridge and stand at their posts both inside and outside the watchtowers. They do not question our presence, and allow us to pass. Their expressions are severe, however, as if daring us to cross them.
The soldiers atop the watchtowers laze. A couple of them are sitting, probably with a tankard in one hand and a bottle in the other. One leans on the ledge at the top of the tower, surveying the surrounding forest. The few standing at the entrances to the towers are leaning back on the stonework of the structures; one has even fallen asleep in a chair.
Dragonhammer: Volume II Page 13