“Hello everyone,” Jericho says. “It’s nice to see some old faces. It’s only been two weeks and I can hardly stand it. How am I going to stand the rest of the war?”
“Be thankful,” James continues. “You’ll be nice and safe in here.”
He thinks about it.
“What?”
“Unless we lose,” he says quietly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nathaniel says.
“Not that we will,” he covers.
“Right,” Nathaniel mutters.
“To be honest, I wish I was well enough to continue fighting,” Jericho says. “I’m starting to feel better but there’s no way I can fight on this. Even after another few months, when I’m healed again, I… won’t be able to walk without a crutch.”
James nods with sympathy, having had a fracture in his arm after our first battle. “I know it,” he says.
I take a deep breath. “You know we’re leaving tomorrow, right?”
Jericho nods solemnly. “I heard.”
“We’re here to say goodbye.”
He nods. “But not for good.”
“Right,” I answer. “I’ll see you when this is all done and over.”
“So you’ll be getting back home soon?” asks Nathaniel.
“I hope so,” he mutters. “And when I do I’m not setting foot outside of Terrace for a year.”
“Neither will I,” James agrees.
Jericho reaches his hand out to James and says, “Farewell.” Similarly he goodbyes Nathaniel. Finally Jericho reaches his hand out to me. “So long, Captain.” I take his hand and shake it loosely, but with a tight grip.
“So long, my friend.”
A tear drops from Jericho’s eyes as we leave the infirmary. I look back and dearly hope that I will see him again.
I stand on the balcony of one of the towers, looking over the mountains. I’m not familiar with this side of the range; I’ve spent my life on the other side. Even so, they are the same mountains.
Having said my farewell, I walk back inside and to my bed, knowing that this may be the last time I see them again.
Vrakkjar Plains
The only noise is the rhythmic clomping of our armored boots on the cobbled roads of the city. A few women throw flowers at our feet. Though I am a captain, I march with the men rather than at the head with Jarl Hralfar. Percival, who stands to my left, looks towards the houses instead of forward at the drawbridge of the city.
Nathaniel marches to my right. He looks at his feet, his hammer wobbling on his back. Aela is on Percival’s other side, and James marches on Nathaniel’s other side. Each has a hardened face and looks forward gravely. Aela glances at me and looks down.
Ullrog marches with his armor concealed on his pack, but I’m not sure why. Once again he’s on the column farthest left, next to Aela, who seems a little uncomfortable with the arrangement.
The sky has clouded and the sun hides behind a blanket of grey, but I do not think it will rain. The wind blows from the southeast. The clouds will likely blow over us and rain over the northern plains.
A smile tugs at Percival’s lips. It’s not one of happiness or amusement, but one of reassurance. I follow his gaze and find Serena standing on her doorstep. She holds a flower to her chest and a tear rolls down her cheek. As we pass, she throws the flower in our direction. Percival snatches it from the air and nods to her. She wears the same smile as he.
The Jarl leads us across the titanic bridge and onto the road. Instead of turning east and heading across the river, however, we turn southwest and follow the road next to it.
The plains are rocky and the grasses are short and strong. Despite the summer season, the dominating color is only a dull brownish, and there’s always a slight chill in the air. The wind blows feebly and rustles the tall grass. Sometimes I hear the tune of some bird or another.
It’s much too flat for my liking. All my life I’ve grown in the shadow of the Wolfpack Mountains, and to see them disappear behind me is a little disconcerting. It feels different than the trip to Amnigaddah; perhaps it is the notion that my return on this occasion is not as certain. Nathaniel in particular seems torn by the sudden change of terrain, but I do not mention it to him.
All day the sun hides behind curtains of gray clouds. As we begin to set up camp the first night, rain starts to sprinkle on us, but fortunately dies quickly as the clouds continue their journey. The grasses make for excellent fire starters; wood is more difficult to find.
I hear a familiar sound and look up towards James with a smile. The firelight illuminates our small circle and the instrument lying on James’s lap. He plucks the strings individually at first, twisting little knobs on the other end of the neck to make the pitch higher or lower. When he is satisfied with the tuning, he strums one chord slowly and a small smile spreads on his face.
“You brought your lute,” Nathaniel says happily.
“Indeed I did,” James responds. Then he begins to play an upbeat piece. Aela looks up at his lute curiously and studies it from across the fire, her eyes narrowed and her listening intent. Ullrog sits next to me without reacting to the music. After a few chords, James begins to sing.
He has a surprisingly nice voice and manages to stay on pitch. The song goes something like this:
Oh I’ve thought meself a hardworkin’ man,
Strong and good-lookin’ not to miss!
All the tales I’d share, (once fought I a bear!),
But ne’er could I gain a lass’s kiss!
A few of us laugh. Percival leans over to me and says quietly, “It’s funny because it’s true.” A chortle forces itself from my chest.
Percival joins him during the second verse and takes the lead part, so James performs a higher harmony part with the words. I can’t help but laugh when Percival cracks on one of the higher notes.
Though I hefted and worked, the girls paid me no heed,
It got under my skin, I declare!
Then one day over yonder, as I sat down to ponder,
It was she, the one, that sat there!
“Makes me want to dance,” Nathaniel says quietly. “That’s something we could all use.”
Aela listens but otherwise doesn’t react.
She was of a beauty I never had seen,
With a face like a goddess, on high!
Then just like a right fellow, I fell down the meadow,
There I landed, my head in the sky!
Oh, I’ve thought meself a hardworkin’ soul,
Thought I was the happiest in the land,
But now that I’m wed, (with a wee little kid),
I’m a happier, less grumblin’ man.
James ends the song by holding out a long note and then finishing with a small chord higher up on the lute. Then he starts playing something else, but this song is slower and has no words.
A figure enters the light of our fire when James begins the second song. I do a double take when I realize who it is.
“You play?” says Genevieve to James, raising an eyebrow.
James only nods, instead of saying something smart like he usually would. His eyes are half-closed and his brow is furrowed as he plays the little instrument. The lute carries all of the parts as he plays, and I find the tune somewhat melancholy but soothing.
She seems a little miffed that he didn’t do anything except nod, but she only watches his fingers move along the strings of the lute. “You’re good,” she says.
“Thank you,” he responds softly after a moment. Genevieve stands on the edge of the circle and watches him play and I watch her expression change with the flow of the music. Her hard face softens and her brow relaxes, and she begins almost to look sad. Others begin to take up their own conversations and James becomes background noise.
Finally Genevieve caves and sits next to James. “What else do you know?” she asks as he finishes the second song.
Nathaniel and Percival begin talking about something of little importance, pr
obably just trying to give James and Genevieve a little bonding time. Ullrog and Aela remain silent, staring into the fire.
“This song is an old one,” James says. “I don’t know where it comes from but I learned it after hearing one of the travelling merchants play it in town.” He begins a song similar to the last one he played, and says, “I can never remember the lyrics, though. I can give it a try.”
The mountains they beckon and tempt me.
The sky lies within their reach.
Yet I am bound by the chains of the world,
Never to touch, nor partake.
Heavy my heart lies within my soul,
When I think upon what might have been.
Of the burdens born, and the life in the storm,
And all was for naught.
James’ eyes close tightly as he struggles to remember the words and the music stops momentarily. Suddenly they come to his mind and he continues.
The oceans, they beckon and taunt me,
With promises of freedom and flight.
Yet the waters are not as kind as they seem,
And I find myself alone.
Heavy my heart lies within my soul,
When I think upon what might have been.
Of the burdens born, and the life in the storm,
And all was for naught.
Heavy my heart lies, weighing my chest,
And the burdens that threaten to slay.
Yet I can find one reason to let myself live,
If…
He shakes his head and then holds out a chord that begs to be resolved. When he can’t think of the words, he finishes the progression anyway. Genevieve’s voice softly whispers, “If you’ll say you love me tonight.”
James looks at her in confusion. “How do you know that?”
She shakes her head and, for only the second time, I see the other side of Magnus. “My…” she begins. She takes a deep breath and continues, “My father sang it to me when I was… when I was very small.” James nods, inviting her to go on. “Every night…” she says. A tear gently drips from her eye and she wipes it hurriedly. Then she takes a deep breath and stands suddenly. “It’s getting late,” she says. “You’d all best get to bed.” Then she walks off towards her tent. Her head turns halfway, as if to look back, but then she straightens and continues on her course.
James looks wistfully after her only for a moment. Then he puts the lute away and follows her advice.
The march is solemn. There is very little conversation and the few words that are spoken, if not orders, are hushed and low.
The landscape begins to roll into hills, some with rocky sides and outcrops. There’s not a tree to be seen for miles, but stout shrubs and grasses grow everywhere. The sun is hot, but thankfully not as hot as it was in the desert. The Juniper River always lies to our left, and will lead us straight to Balgr’s Fall.
When the time comes for dinner, I stand behind Ullrog with my bowl in line for stew. Ullrog reaches for the ladle, but some ignorant fool barges between the orc and his meal and takes the ladle. “Men before orcs,” the man says. Ullrog straightens up, easily a foot and a half taller than the soldier. Though the soldier’s eye loses its glint and he gets slightly sheepish, he boldly fills his bowl before stepping out of line. Ullrog looks back at me and I gesture to him to take the ladle.
“Thank you,” he growls.
James pulls his lute out again when he finishes his stew, probably hoping to attract the young commander. His hopes are dashed, however, when a small group of soldiers enters our fire circle. They are focused on Ullrog.
“Greenie,” one of them says. Ullrog doesn’t respond.
“Hey! We’re talking to you!” says the second. Ullrog’s black eyes flick to them.
I look up and straighten, not liking where this is going.
They advance and James stops playing. “We just want to know, if you’re so big and strong like they say you are, why you don’t fight back.”
I make to say something, but Ullrog’s hand rests on my leg lightly and as he looks into my eyes, his head shakes ever so slightly.
“Why don’t you ever react?” says the one in the middle. “Why is that?”
Because he’s a better man than you’ll ever be! The words burn in my head but Ullrog shakes his head again. One of the men skirts around to Ullrog’s back.
“I want you to fight back,” the soldier continues. “Come on!” The back of his hand hits the orc across the face, but Ullrog hardly budges. “Come on!” Again Ullrog shakes his head and says nothing.
The man behind him throws a rock and hits him squarely in the back of the head. The orc’s eyes close and his hands close into fists. His muscles begin to quiver.
“Come on!” the man says.
“What’s going on?” says a voice from the edge of the fire.
The soldier looks over. “Nothing, Jarl.”
“Really? It sounded to me like there was a bit of a problem only a moment ago.”
The soldier shakes his head like a small child and steps away.
“That’s what I thought,” the Jarl mutters.
Part of me is slightly disappointed that I didn’t get to see what happens when Ullrog gets angry, but the other part is dramatically relieved that everyone will get to keep their arms tonight.
As soon as the Jarl goes out of earshot, the soldier suddenly throws a punch straight at Ullrog’s nose. The orc catches the fist in his own enormous hand and stops it dead. His eyes have opened and slowly he rises, looking the soldier in the face, never releasing the fist.
A low rumble sounds throughout the camp. One of the other soldiers smiles when he realizes it came from Ullrog.
The orc’s voice thunders through the camp though he does not shout, penetrating every ear and shaking every bone. “Ikh thien sgre rhol gashna sckoll, thien sgre an ber sur blaknas urgnor, dregnout res sur blakneyet thien, yehr orgthis fell.” The last three words seethe slowly from his clenched fangs. The soldiers stare up, their expressions only revealing dumbfounded terror.
Ullrog glares into the eyes of the soldier for only a moment longer. Then the man runs off without a word, his cronies right on his tail.
The orc sits back in his spot and picks up his bowl as if nothing has happened. “Won’t bother you again,” he mutters.
I think for a moment about his last comment and James almost laughs at the casual nature after such an encounter. Won’t bother us? I think.
James shakes his head and resumes his lute playing.
Remarkably, the persecution stops. Word gets around very quickly about Ullrog’s reaction, and nobody wants to find out what it was like from the soldiers’ point of view. However, a new kind of persecution starts: complete ignorance.
He doesn’t mind at all. He cares nothing for how the other soldiers view him. He’s only there for the glory of battle, from what I’ve gathered.
“What instruments do you play?” I ask Ullrog as we once again march.
He answers, “Sing. Drum.”
“Drum?” I question.
“All orc learn drum,” he explains. “Beat for war.”
“And the singing too?”
“Yes and no,” he says. “Singing not only for war. Singing for happy and sad.” He speaks slowly with plenty of inflection, and I wonder if inflection is a large part of his native tongue.
Once again it takes me a moment to decipher the true meaning of his last sentence. “Is that all you play?” I ask.
He shakes his head, and takes a moment to realize that I want an answer. “Harp,” he says quietly.
I’m taken aback. He notices and smiles, but offers no clarification.
The fourth night, Jarl Hralfar approaches me with Genevieve at his side. “This is as far as we can go together,” he says. “We can’t risk the spies from Balgr’s Fall seeing you.”
“Understood,” I reply. “We split up tomorrow morning, then?”
“After we break camp,” he responds. “I tr
ust you know where you are going?”
“Approximately,” I reply. “It shouldn’t be too hard to find.”
“I was hoping it would,” the Jarl opposes. “For covertness’ sake.”
Genevieve makes a face at me like I’ve said something wrong, but I ignore her. “We’ll be fine,” I reply. I know my words will do nothing to comfort the fear of the Jarl, as our fate in the upcoming battle rests entirely on how the slip at the dock plays out, which of itself rests on many variables.
He nods. “I pray to Khaoth that you will be.”
“What was that about?” James asks as I sit next to him by the fire and the Jarl walks away.
“We make for the ship tomorrow,” I say quietly. “Then our companies won’t see each other until the battle.”
James nods. “I’m already getting nervous,” he says, lowering his lute. Then he puts it away and heads to bed.
“We all are,” I agree quietly.
The Marshes
Our company splits easily the next morning, as the tents were set up for the division accordingly. “You’ll most certainly get there before we do,” Jarl Hralfar says. “It won’t be difficult to time. When you hear the battle start, then you can begin your task.”
“Of course,” I reply. “I just hope we can stay hidden for that long.”
“As do I,” he says. “And that you are equally as stealthy during your mission.”
“Who is their leader?”
“I am not entirely sure,” he answers. “The Jarl of that region is of the Herak clan, but has since retreated to The Spire after the city was taken. I expect that he will return soon after we retake it.”
“Who is my target then?” I ask.
He raises an eyebrow, but answers anyway, “Whoever seems to be in charge. Remember they are not your target. The objective is not to kill their leader, it’s to take the city.”
I nod. “Understood.”
“Until we next meet,” he says. “I have faith we will both be in one piece.”
Dragonhammer: Volume II Page 16