Dragonhammer: Volume I

by Conner McCall

  I wipe blood from my lip as the fifth group comes up on the roof, Genevieve leading them. “What are you standing around for?” she yells to no one in particular. “Light the beacon!” Her broadsword’s edge is splattered with crimson.

  Several men run towards the tallest tower and disappear inside.

  “I see you’re still alive,” she observes. “If a little beaten up.”

  “Troll,” I say.

  “Where is it then?” she questions. “If the mighty Trollslayer slew the troll, then where is it?”

  “Down there.” I point towards the crevice in the crenellations, looking down upon her.

  “Nice try,” she says, but I see a little bit of jealousy in her eyes.

  I take a moment to study the battle that is going on at the front gate of the city. It is difficult to see, as it is still night, but the torches above the gate are lit, and some soldiers carry torches wherever they go. From what I can tell, they have not breached the gate.

  “They may need help getting through,” I say.

  “Possibly,” says Genevieve. It’s the first time she ever agrees with me.

  Suddenly a blaring light shines from the peak of the tower. An enormous fire blazes there, lighting everything on the surrounding mountainside.

  “There,” I say. “The Keep is ours. Now to the gate.”

  Few men stay back to guard what we have worked so hard to take. The rest of us run down to the front gate of the Keep, where Genevieve gives the order to lift the portcullis. After we hear the loud clack that means it has locked into position, she orders the gates be opened. As soon as the gates allow, we run through into the streets of Terrace.

  There are few men to oppose us; all of the rest are at the gate. I am startled by what I think is a terrible beast, but after only a moment I see that it is the wrecked carcass of the troll I threw from the top.

  “We must help them open the gate!” I shout. “Whatever we can do!”

  I, with my followers in tow, race around into an alley and run down a less busy, more incognito street. The sound of fighting soon overcomes all others.

  The Tygnar army is in disarray. Most of the soldiers have heard fighting in both directions and do not know what to think of it, and the feeling throws them into a frantic panic. Unfortunately, the same goes with the trolls.

  The trolls begin beating everything within reach. Arrows pierce them, but they don’t know from which side. Swords slash, but from the trolls’ rearward where they thought only allies stood.

  It is easy to hammer a way through their scattered men, to the front gate. I climb the steps on the right and end up inside the hallway that goes into the right Clifftower. Several men line the halls, but they are quickly dispatched.

  “How do we open the gate?” Nathaniel shouts.

  “There’s a wheel you turn in the lower levels,” I yell, pointing towards the stairwell that will lead us. “It will open the gate.”

  I turn and cross weapons with another foe, quickly throwing him down. “Go!” I yell. “I will make sure no one follows you down!”

  Jericho and Nathaniel run down the stairs. I hear fighting. “Help them,” I tell Gunther and Percival. “They won’t get past me.”

  “I know,” Gunther says with the hint of a smile. Then both run down into the stairwell.

  Some of my men still stand next to me and fight. Watching me seems to give them strength of their own, and they fight like beasts.

  “Kadmus!” Gunther yells from the stairwell. “The wheel is blocked! There’s no way to open the gate!”

  By this time the shock of our presence behind the gate has worn off of the Tygnar soldiers, at least for the most part. Though they still do not know how we did it, they know that we are enemies.

  “Cover me!” I roar. Then I turn and dart down the stairs.

  Part of the right wall is caved in, but additional rock from the cliff has fallen to fill it in. Rubble is strewn everywhere and in the middle, the wheel has been broken from its axel. Even if it was still attached, the damage done to the wheel would render it unusable.

  “Our catapults must have hit it,” I infer. “But why isn’t the gate down?!”

  “Don’t know,” Percival says, “but we have to do it fast.”

  “The mechanism,” I mutter. I study the floor where the axel of the wheel enters the stonework. Chains trail from the axel to holes in the wall, where I assume they must connect to the gate.

  I smash the remains of the axel and free the chains, and then take the cold steel. “Hold it here,” I command. We line up along the chain, and on my mark we pull.

  I hear the groan of wood and the scrap of steel on stone. The chain moves as we pull and there’s a roar of triumph from outside.

  “It’s working,” Nathaniel says.

  “Of course it’s working, pull,” I retaliate with a short breath.

  “Hey!” someone yells.

  “Don’t stop,” I urge, letting go of the chain. “We must open the gate.”

  They only nod.

  I hammer the soldier that had opposed my opening of the gate. He lies lifeless and I move on to the next.

  Percival grunts with the strain and Gunther slips on the chain. “Don’t stop,” I urge again. “I will protect you.” Then I leap up the stairs and the battle resumes.

  I am pleased to see that many of my men still fight valiantly. Their morale raises when I rejoin them and fight by their side.

  “You,” suddenly says a voice.

  The voice is ominous. A familiar clomp echoes in the carved room, followed by another. Then he steps down from the stairs that lead into the Clifftower. The torchlight casts a flickering shadow of his figure onto the wall.

  “You,” he says. He’s clad in shining steel armor, with a billowing orange cloak and an orange plume on the top of his helmet. A scratch distorts the helm where Jarl Hralfar had hit him only a few weeks before. His enormous claymore sits in his hand, ready for use. One of my men shoots an arrow at him, but he blocks it with an inhuman movement of his sword.

  “Kill them all, but him,” he says. “Leave him to me.” My men engage with his men, each fighting for their lives.

  “Me?” I question.

  “You are the one who escaped that night,” he clarifies. “You are the one who led the escape that tore Lord Jarl Hralfar from my hands. You are the one they say fights like a dragon.”

  “How do you know?”

  He points. “You are missing two fingers on your left hand. And your size. It’s not often I see someone as big as you.”

  “I see,” I say.

  “You give them hope. And that’s why I have to kill you.”

  Almost with inhuman speed he swings the great claymore and I barely have time to block. I don’t have time to recover before he throws another blow, which I dodge only by falling backward as quickly as I can. By the time he swings again I have regained my balance, and am ready for the next blow. Not only do I block, but I counter.

  He sidesteps and jabs, but I twist his sword to the side and make to slam in his helmet. Our weapons collide and lock. Our faces are no more than a foot apart.

  “Who are you?” I seethe.

  Then he throws me off and the fight continues. One of my men steps in and my enemy temporarily steps away from me to take care of the nuisance. I am unable to help the soldier.

  “Tyrannus!” I hear. Genevieve stands behind him, holding her broadsword. She charges and the fight continues.

  Slowly our battle brings us out of the tunnels and out onto the wall above the gate. Firelight flickers from the enormous torches, lighting the wall though the sun is still set.

  He is able to block every stroke we throw at him, though we attack from different sides. His blows are few and far between, but only one proves effective.

  He slices Genevieve’s outer left thigh. She emits a cry of pain and as she falls, her head hits the ground hard and she goes unconscious. I am upon him, however, and he is forced to turn away fr
om her.

  “You will die,” he says as he counters one of my blows. “As will all of your family.”

  Rage pumps through my blood and my hammer comes down harder than it ever has before. He is surprised by the sudden force, but after it comes another, and another. I catch the blade of his sword with the spike of my hammer and twist it from his grip. As the sword flies toward me I spin to catch it in my left hand, and then I bring it down on his left arm.

  He howls and drops to his knees as his forearm falls to the floor. With his other hand he clutches the bloody stump that now serves as his hand.

  “I have already lost my father,” I say, pointing both weapons at him. “And I don’t plan to lose any more.”

  He says nothing more, but dies silently beneath his own sword.

  In disgust I drop his sword and heft my hammer in both hands. I turn to find that my men have risen victorious over their opponents.

  A creak emanates from the gate, and then a bang.

  “It’s open!” one of the soldiers cries.

  “Somebody get her to safety,” I command, gesturing to Genevieve on the ground. “Everyone else, stand strong with me. We have a battle to win.”

  Our forces flood into Terrace. The Tygnar army, attacked from both sides and leaderless, panics. Some men who had watched me smite down their leader simply turn tail and run, dropping their weapons in the road.

  I run into the mountain tunnel again and reunite with my friends and brothers.

  “I believe we’ve won,” I say.

  Jarl Hralfar stands on top of the wall, commanding all of Tygnar’s men to drop their weapons. If they do, they are promised their life. All oblige. The trolls, being morons by nature, take a little more persuasion. They too, however, eventually drop their weapons.

  The prisoners are compelled to help clean up the mess. Most of the bodies are simply dumped off the bridge and into the river far below.

  I stand next to the Jarl on the wall. “You did this?” he says, referring to the lifeless body of Tyrannus on the ground. By this time the sun is rising and the carnage is easier to observe.

  “Yes,” I respond.

  “Once again you stun me, Kadmus. He was a mighty warrior. What became of Commander Magnus?”

  “He wounded her and she went unconscious. I told a few men to get her to safety, but I don’t know where they took her.”

  “You know what you are?” asks the Jarl.

  I shrug. “A warrior?”

  “A captain,” the Jarl smiles.

  “I can’t,” I say. “I haven’t sworn the oath yet.”

  The Jarl nods. “True. Today you will probably want some good food and rest, am I correct?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then let us plan on tomorrow. Come into the Keep tomorrow and you can take the oath then. Then we will have a feast! The city is ours again!” He claps me on the back.

  “Why couldn’t you get through the gate?” I ask. “I know you brought catapults.”

  “They built ballistae on the tops of the Clifftowers,” he responds. “Their bolts broke our catapults in only a few shots.”

  “Oh,” I reply lamely.

  “Well, I must go check on Commander Magnus. I will plan on seeing you tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Then he leaves.

  Mother! I think. Gunther and Nathaniel are next to me and I’m sure are thinking the same thing. We look forward to and dread what this meeting will bring.

  We drag our feet as we walk towards Gunther’s house, which lies towards the outer northern edge of the city. Though we are excited to see Mother, we are not happy to be the envoy of heartrending news.

  Finally we stand at the door. Gunther, because it is his house, simply opens the door and we file in somberly.

  Mother, once she realizes who it is, beams at each of us and runs to us, hugging each of us multiple times, saying things like, “Oh, my boys! I thought I’d never see you again! I was sure you’d gone and died in battle! Oh, but you’re here and alive! Oh, my boys!” Ethan and Nicholas are almost equally as excited to see us.

  Then mother steps back. Her face grows concerned. “Where’s your father?” she asks.

  None of us answer. She asks again, “Where is your father?” Gunther steps forward and rests his hand on her shoulder. He has tears in his eyes.

  “Daddy?” says Nicholas, looking around confusedly.

  “He did not come back,” Gunther whispers to Mother.

  She stares at Gunther in shock. Then she looks to me and Nathaniel as if one of us is going to shout “gotcha,” and Father will run in the door. I look at the floor.

  “No,” Mother whispers. “No.” She turns her gaze back to Gunther, who simply nods. Then she begins to cry.

  Gunther holds our mother tightly. At first only a few tears fall, but as they come they exponentially multiply until she is sobbing uncontrollably. “My Kadmus…” she says. “My Kadmus…”

  Ethan realizes what is happening but Nicholas looks around, puzzled. “Why are you crying?” Nicholas asks Ethan.

  “Oh…” Mother says, bending down and holding her smallest son.

  “What does Gunther mean daddy won’t be coming back?” he says over Mother’s shoulder. His little innocent voice pierces knives into my heart.

  She comes away from him, but holds him by the shoulders. “Father’s gone away for a while,” she says, lacking the heart to tell him otherwise.

  “When will he be back?”

  She begins sobbing again and holds Nicholas tightly. “It’s okay,” he says. “We’ll see him when he comes back.” Mother only cries harder.

  We give her a few minutes before saying anything. Mother breaks the not-so-silent silence by asking quietly, “How did he go?”

  I glance at Nicholas and say, “It was peaceful.”

  She almost begins crying again but takes hold of herself and forces herself to stop. “Nicholas?” she asks, crouching down to his level. “Can you do me a favor? Are you big and strong enough to do it?”

  Nicholas nods and flexes his little muscles.

  Mother laughs softly with tears dripping from her eyes. “Can you run into the cellar and bring me a little sack of flour? I need to bake some bread for supper tonight.”

  Nicholas nods and runs into the back room, where I assume there must be a trapdoor into the cellar.

  Before she begins crying again she stands and repeats one word: “How?”

  “He took an arrow,” I say. “But the arrow didn’t kill him. The wound got infected and he struggled with it for days. His passing was peaceful. He was able to give us each a few words before he… left.”

  She chokes, “Where is he buried?”

  “Above the falls in the Living Vale. Jarl Hralfar was willing to have a small tomb built in the cavern. Nothing will disturb him there.”

  She nods briskly. As Nicholas comes back in with a little bag of flour, she manages to compose herself and takes it when he hands it to her. “Thank you,” she says.

  “Know that I will avenge him,” I say bitterly. “All servants of those who dared take his life. They will die under me.”

  My mother looks at me, alarmed. She has no words to describe her feeling, but she does say, “You’re going back out there?”

  I nod.

  Her face falls even further. She can barely say one word. “Why?”

  “Because it’s my duty,” I respond. “I must not allow this destruction to advance.”

  Nathaniel looks up guiltily. “I’m going with him,” he says.

  She only says, “I have already lost your father. Do I have to lose you too?”

  “You will not lose me,” I respond. “I will return.”

  There’s an awkward silence.

  “I’m in need of a very long nap,” mutters Gunther. “But first I shall have a large breakfast, I think.”

  “And a bath,” I say enthusiastically.

  “Agreed,” pipes Nathaniel.

  “
Where will you stay?” asks Mother.

  “Well, this is my house,” answers Gunther as he pulls a little barrel of dried apricots from the small pantry. “Kadmus and Nathaniel may stay if they want.”

  “We have no bed,” I say. “But the barracks in the Keep has plenty. I’ll stay there.”

  “And I’ll go with you,” says Nathaniel.

  “First stay and eat,” says Gunther.

  And so we do, taking turns napping on Gunther’s bed. Each of us takes a long well-deserved bath in the little bathroom off to the side, using water heated up over the fire. I have just lain down in pristinely clean clothes when there’s a frantic sudden knock at the door.

  The door opens and I hear a scream, but it is a scream of joy rather than a scream of terror.

  I roll out of the bed and walk to the main room where Gunther and Rachel are making their engagement very apparent by attempting to eat each other’s faces. Suppressing a laugh I walk back to the bed before Nathaniel steals it from me.

  For the night Nathaniel and I go back to the Keep and sleep in the barracks.

  That’s where I see James, Percival, and Jericho again. We’re all so tired, however, that we simply acknowledge each others’ presence and go to sleep.

  The next morning, during breakfast, is when we catch up. I hug James and congratulate him on living.

  “Living’s nothing,” he says. “What’d you do this time?”

  “I led us through the Keep,” I say. “Nothing too big.”

  “That’s a load of dingflies,” Percival butts in. “He killed another troll and took on the enemy commander.”

  James raises an eyebrow at me. “I told you you were Trollslayer,” he says. “The commander? What was his name? Tyranny or something?”

  “Tyrannus,” I correct.

  “You kill him?”

  I nod. “With his own sword,” I say darkly.

  “Oh I didn’t know that,” says Percival, intrigued.

  Both of James’s eyebrows go up. “How’d you manage that?” he asks me.

  “Same way I manage anything anymore,” I say.

  Jarl Hralfar enters the room and walks to me. He rests his hand on my shoulder and says, “When did you want to take the oath?”