Dragonhammer: Volume I

by Conner McCall

  We run right and into what appears to be a dining hall. Staircases go up one flight on each side of the room, and we quickly take them two or three steps at a time. We end up on a balcony-like structure overlooking the dining hall, but we don’t stop to admire the view. Two of my soldiers fall to their forces, leaving ten to stand and fight beside me.

  We run down the large arched hall straight ahead. It’s lined with doors, but we take none of them. Another of my soldiers is lost.

  At the end of the hall we come to an intersection, where another similar hall crosses ours. We ignore it and continue into the room on the other side, where a spiral staircase leads up.

  “Where would Swordbreaker be?” asks one of the soldiers.

  “At the top,” I reply. “So he can see how badly the battle is going.”

  There’s a landing at every floor that lets into an intersection almost identical to the one we had gone through. We ignore every one, but for the third one, when the stairs stop.

  “Where do we go now?” asks the same soldier.

  I look down all three choices we have for directions, having come from the fourth.

  “Onward,” I mutter. Then I lead them down the middle hall.

  Tygnar soldiers jump out of every shadow. They do not survive long enough to do much more than that, however. Three more of my soldiers are lost.

  At the end of the hall we pass through a set of double doors and into a spacious room with a vaulted ceiling. At the end an enormous window overlooks the courtyard. An enormous scorpion, made of all different shapes and sizes of glass panes, stands in the middle of the window. On either side of the window, small archways lead into short corridors. Swordbreaker stands in the middle, looking out the window at the battle below.

  He turns abruptly with wide eyes at my entrance. His armored hand grips the hilt of his sheathed sword. Immediately he unsheathes his weapon and commands, “Kill them!”

  Soldiers enter from the side corridors to help those that already occupy the room. Swordbreaker stands on the other side of his wall of soldiers, safe and sound.

  Temporarily.

  I crash through one of the soldiers and land him on the floor, tripping up another. They fall over each other and I kill them both in one stroke. I look to the right and another of my men falls victim to their cold blades.

  Swordbreaker’s men begin to back away. They cower at the sight of my hammer knocking aside their allies like leaves. Some of them begin to drop their weapons and run.

  “No!” commands Swordbreaker. “Kill him!”

  “Why don’t you?!” shouts a soldier fleeing for his life.

  I let them flee. I refuse to kill a helpless man such as them, even if they are cowardly.

  Only three of my men still stand. Two more of them had fallen in the battle, despite the fright of the opposition.

  Swordbreaker looks at me and my soldiers. Then he runs for the left corridor.

  No you don’t.

  I beat him there and swing maliciously at him. He blocks it and turns away, towards the other corridor. My men block it.

  “You’re a coward,” I scorn as he looks back towards me.

  “Am I?” he questions quietly. Then he turns and kills one of the other men before they can react. He takes another life before I can get there.

  “Yes!” I argue as I bat his blade to the side. “You’re a coward and you know it!”

  My last ally falls dead beneath his blade, the edge of which is beginning to glow red.

  “I’m here,” he says above the body of the soldier.

  “That only means I can kill you.”

  We trade a few blows, but neither of us gain any ground. Then his sword scrapes against my hammer and bursts into flame.

  “Why the anger?” he asks. “What you have is evidently more than simply a need to win the battle.”

  “Why do you say?” I revile.

  “I said I thought you would have a little more fire. Well, I was right. You do. In your eyes I see hurt and loss. These serve as the wood for your burning fire to kill me. Why?”

  “You know why,” I seethe.

  “A friend of yours lose their life?” he prods.

  “My father, to your army in Terrace. You ordered the attack. If you hadn’t, he would not be dead and I would likely not be here.”

  “But he is dead,” he retaliates. “And you are here. And you will join him in the afterlife.”

  “Not today.”

  His sword sparks as it clangs against my hammer. Red flames lick the glowing crimson edge of his blade.

  He cuts my left shoulder slightly and I cry out in pain. The heat of the Firesteel cauterizes it instantly.

  “Your father is dead,” he repeats. “And you have come to avenge him. You will fail.”

  “I promised him I would not,” I breathe through clenched teeth. “I will kill you.”

  We trade a few more blows, and then our weapons lock together, placing us right in the middle of the enormous window. We both push against each other, trying to gain the upper hand. I can see in his wide eyes only one thought. This was a bad idea.

  “It wasn’t me!” he says suddenly.

  I give him a quizzical look, but do not release my pressure.

  “It wasn’t me that sent out the order!” he says, pressing his sword even harder. “That order came from Ollgorath!”

  “The leader of Diagrall?” I question. Swordbreaker grunts underneath the effort it takes to keep his sword between my hammer and him.

  “He commanded it,” he says. “I only carried it out.”

  “Then you still will die.”

  I knock his sword aside and punch him in the gut with the butt of my hammer, and then sweep his feet out from under him. Before he hits the ground I slam him in the side, towards the window. The panes shatter, creating a gaping hole in the glass scorpion. He tumbles out and down to the ground far below.

  Thus was the end of Lucius Swordbreaker.

  Men from every corner of the courtyard look to the broken window high above the battlefield and the orange-caped body falling from it. I stand in the hole, clearly visible to all onlookers. Tygnar soldiers begin to drop their weapons when they see my hammer still in my hands.

  “Kadmus!” cries Jarl Hralfar from the entrance of the room. He sees the bodies and the hole in the window. “What happened?” he asks.

  “He is dead,” I respond, bending down and picking up the still-flaming sword. I study it for a moment and wonder at the skill required to forge such a blade. The flames burn down and eventually expire, leaving light whitish smoke trailing from the sharp edge of the blade.

  I drop the blade as I make for the double doors that will lead me out.

  Word from Mohonri

  I meet up with Nathaniel, Percival, James, and Jericho in the courtyard.

  “That was you up there?” asks Jericho. I nod solemnly.

  “Why can’t I do that?” James mutters quietly.

  “Because you’re not as awesome,” answers Nathaniel almost as quietly.

  “Neither are you,” James retaliates.

  “Well, I did shoot his horse down,” he answers.

  “That was you?” I ask. He nods. “Thanks,” I reply. “I appreciate that.”

  “You would’ve gotten him anyway,” he says, eyeing the orange-caped corpse lying on the ground three stories below the window.

  “Don’t know,” I reply. “But he’s dead now.”

  “Captain,” says a voice behind me. I turn and see Commander Magnus. She holds Lord Swordbreaker’s fiery sword.

  “Yes?” I respond.

  “By right, this blade is yours.” She holds it out to me.

  I shake my head. “I don’t want it.” I see the look on her face and continue, “Take it. I don’t want it.”

  She nods. “My thanks.” She is stone-faced and her tone is cold as she withdraws the sword and walks away.

  “So the battle is done,” says Jarl Hralfar, approaching. “But the w
ar is not yet over.”

  “Who will succeed him as Lord Jarl of Tygnar?” I ask. “Surely there is an heir.”

  “There is,” he says. “His son, Titus Swordbreaker.”

  I nod. “How many dead?”

  “Don’t know,” answers the Jarl. “More casualties on their side. Most of them have given over their weapons and we’ll escort them to Thrak. Some escaped. Tygnar will learn of this loss very quickly.”

  “As I would expect,” I respond. “When will we leave?”

  “As soon as we can.”

  We search the entire fort, but find nothing of value. We leave it and start through the forest to get to Thrak, as it will be much faster than marching all the way around the tip of the forest to the south. The prisoners of war march in the middle, surrounded by our forces on all sides.

  The forest is beautiful, but cruel. The hills are strewn with boulders and there are some hills like buttes, with steep rocky cliffs on one side, but a gentle incline on the other. A couple of times we are forced to turn back and go around a hidden cliff.

  The pines are green and lush. Dead pine needles line the rocky ground, but they do almost nothing to make the ground any more comfortable for sleeping. The grass is bright green and grows in tufts.

  It is difficult to find enough places to pitch tents, so some of us go without and sleep under the stars. As a captain, I have full rights to one, but deny it. Instead I sleep on the hard ground like the rest of the men.

  It takes just over a week to navigate the forest and another day to get to Thrak. The mountains are a comforting familiar sight.

  Thrak is built upon the side of the mountains, on terraces. Every so often a wide stone staircase leads from one terrace to the next. Houses line the terraces, as do various shops, markets, pubs, and inns. Walls climb the mountains on the edges of the city, and there’s a gate at the front and the back of the city.

  The gates open as we near, and I study the remainder of the city once we enter.

  The main road leads to the right around the base of one of the mountains. Seven terraces are layered up the mountainside, each with their assortment of buildings. A watchtower and small fort sit at the top. As we follow the main road, I notice that it leads down into a small vale. Terraces make their way partway up the mountains straight ahead and to the right.

  A formidable keep sits on the right edge of the vale, built onto the side of the mountain. It is not very tall, but wide and somewhat boxy. It seems to just grow from the cliffs and rocks at the base of the mountain. The main road goes all the way to its gate, and we enter after the portcullis rises.

  The prisoners are left in the keep, crammed in the dungeons.

  “We can use them to barter,” says Jarl Kjunn. “Tygnar has some of our men that we could use.”

  Thrak is in close enough proximity to Kera that Jarl Kjunn acts as the city’s leader. He goes about making plans immediately, but I want to stay out of them. What Swordbreaker had said is bothering me.

  It wasn’t me that sent the order. I only carried it out.

  My job is not complete. There is something much bigger and darker than Lucius Swordbreaker. Only after it is stopped can I rest.

  My mother comes to mind. How much she worries. What she must be thinking.

  “Do you know where we’re going now?” asks Percival. “Tygnar is just about defeated.”

  “We’ll probably join the forces in the west,” I answer. “Diagrall is still a problem for Mohonri out there.”

  “That is true,” he says. “Think Diagrall has trolls?”

  “I don’t want to think about what they might have, but I doubt it’s trolls.”

  “Why?”

  “Apparently the trolls only swore fealty to Lucius Swordbreaker because they wanted to prove themselves in battle. Now that he is dead, I don’t know if that makes their fealty void or not. I don’t know the depths of troll law.”

  “That’ll mean we’re going to Poalai,” Percival continues. “If we go to the west.”

  James nods. “I just hope we’re all alive long enough to make it that far.”

  I agree with an identical gesture.

  A messenger enters the room and says, “Captain Armstrong!”

  I stand and acknowledge his presence. “Speak.”

  “You have a summons from Jarl Kjunn.”

  “When?”

  “As soon as you can, Captain.”

  “Lead on, then.” I give my friends a gesture of farewell, and then follow the messenger down the hallway and up a spiral staircase. Then we go down another hallway, take a turn, and end up in what I recognize as a council room, complete with big table and map.

  “What’s the matter?” I ask as I enter.

  The messenger leaves as Jarl Kjunn waves him away with a “Thank you.” Then he turns to me and says, “This came for you.” He holds out a letter, still sealed with red wax. The seal depicts a torch sitting in front of a sword crossed over three stalks of wheat: the insignia of Mohonri. On the back, in skinny, spiky writing, one word is written: Dragonhammer.

  “Well, open it,” coaxes Jarl Hralfar.

  I obey and discard the envelope, leaving me holding a letter. It says:

  Dragonhammer,

  Word has reached me concerning your many feats, including the rescue of many men from Nringnar’s Deep, the retake of Terrace, the infiltration and successful invasion of Amgid, and the deaths of Commander Tyrannus and Lord Swordbreaker. Only one of these would be an impossible feat for any one man, but you have done them all and attracted my attention.

  I hereby request an audience with you. I currently reside in Fragruss, and will remain there for a period of a few weeks before returning to my home in Venebor. Come and I will be sure that you are properly accommodated. A warrior such as you should be richly rewarded.

  May your journey be swift.

  Lord Archeantus

  “What does it say?” asks Jarl Kjunn as I look up from the letter.

  “It’s Lord Archeantus,” I reply. “He requests an audience immediately.”

  Kjunn raises his eyebrows. “With you?”

  I nod.

  “Well, we’d best get you off then! As soon as you are able?”

  “He’s in Fragruss for the next few weeks. He said that a warrior such as I should not go unrewarded.”

  Jarl Hralfar says, “We’d best honor his wishes.”

  “I know,” I agree quietly. I think, but do not say, Though I do not want his gifts or promotions. Instead I ask, “Do we have orders from him concerning our position?”

  “None thus far,” says Jarl Hralfar. “I’m afraid you will be travelling with only a few. I, Jarl Kjunn, and Commander Magnus will all be required to stay here.”

  “I see,” I answer. “I will set out with four others as soon as I can.”

  “Good decision,” Kjunn mutters. “Not good to ignore the summons of Lord Jarl Archeantus.”

  “Am I dismissed?” I question.

  Hralfar nods. “Best of luck to you. Travel safely and return swiftly.”

  I trace my steps back down to the bunkrooms where I and the other soldiers stay.

  “What was that about?” Nathaniel asks.

  “I’m going to Fragruss,” I answer bluntly. “Lord Archeantus has requested an audience with me.”

  Everyone’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really?” asks James.

  “Would I joke about that?” I ask. “I’m leaving tomorrow. You want to come?”

  “Of course!” Percival jumps up.

  “I’ll get packed as soon as I can,” Nathaniel answers.

  Jericho nods his approval. “I’ve got to see what this is all about,” he says.

  “I’m in,” replies James.

  “Good,” I say. “We leave tomorrow.”

  The next morning, Genevieve catches us at the gate of the keep. “Travel safely,” she says. Her eyes linger on mine and she tells me something a little more. Then we leave.

  We wear our armor and c
arry our weapons, as well as packs with our bedrolls and food. The gate of the city lets us out of the mountains and into the slightly forested foothills between the Wolfpack Mountains and the Kindred Forest. We take the road south. It will take us about eight or nine days to make the journey to Fragruss because we have to travel all the way around the tip of the mountains. It would take longer to travel through them.

  Travelling is uneventful. By the end of the fourth day the forest retreats from the left and we come out into an open plain like the one from Amgid to Fort Rugoth. The mountains begin to become less menacing, and finally on the sixth or seventh day the road curves to the right and around the base of the mountains.

  “We’re finally going to see beyond the mountains,” Percival says.

  Within a day or two’s travel to the south lies the Ha’avjah Desert. Though we cannot see the sand, the horizon is flat and dry. We travel west and around the point of the Wolfpack Mountains to Fragruss.

  We cross the Juniper River at an arched stone bridge and Fragruss comes into sight from behind the mountains.

  This city is truly fascinating. It’s built on a plateau like Amgid, but it’s nestled so perfectly into the mountains that the Juniper River creates a natural moat, at least from the west; cliffs protect it from all other sides. It flows down from the north, circles about half the city, and then curves to the southwest towards the ocean. On the opposite side of the river stands a mesa, upon which a bridge arches to the front gate of Fragruss. As we near, however, I see that there is an empty space about fifteen feet long between the end of the bridge and the gate. This only becomes clear when we climb the stone stairs to the top of the mesa and begin to cross the colossal bridge.

  Instead of a gate, an enormous drawbridge with massive chains lies across the gap separating the gate from the end of the bridge. It is made of wood, but reinforced along the edges with steel plates. It clunks heavily as we walk across it. The river roars beneath us, and a couple of waterwheels clank as they turn in the churning water.

  As we pass underneath the archway leading into the city, I note a lifted portcullis. To the left and right, protected in the walls, there must be enormous reels for lifting the bridge.