Dragonhammer: Volume I

by Conner McCall

  She and Percival had walked the whole way side-by-side, talking. In fact, each of us, but for me, had been holding our own conversations with one of the young women. I stayed to myself and my thought. Nathaniel had actually been talking to Serena’s younger sister.

  “Thanks,” I hear Serena say to Percival. James gives me a look that says, We should leave them. I agree silently and we make our way down the street without Percival. He hardly seems to notice, carrying on a conversation of some sort with Serena. We walk out of earshot, so we cannot hear what they are saying. When I look back, I see Serena pounce on him in a big hug. He’s stunned and stands stiffly until she retreats. Then she walks into the house and he realizes he’s alone on the street. He runs to catch up to us.

  “What’d you talk about?” James asks slyly.

  “Nothing…” Percival says wistfully.

  James shrugs. “Alright then.”

  We make it back to the keep just before the drawbridge lifts. We sleep soundly, once we find our room.

  The next morning a guard shows us to the kitchens and allows us to take some food for our journey home. I help myself to a few loaves of bread and some fruit. Then we leave the keep.

  As we walk across the bridge Percival looks back several times. I say nothing until we are on the road walking back towards Thrak, when he gazes at the city until it disappears behind the mountains.

  “It’s that girl,” I say. “Isn’t it?” Percival and I walk behind the other three, who are talking about something or another that I don’t care to listen to.

  He nods. “It’s stupid…” he mutters, shaking his head.

  “No,” I respond. “It’s not.”

  He gives me a puzzled look.

  “It’s not stupid at all,” I murmur, looking forward at the road.

  An Unpleasant Affair

  The journey back is shorter: only a week. We arrive just after midday on the seventh day. We are welcomed back, and immediately Jarl Hralfar and Jarl Kjunn want to meet with me. “After I eat and rest,” I respond.

  I honor my promise and go to the council room when I feel rejuvenated enough. Of course, they want to know what the whole thing was about and how it went.

  “He wanted to make me a commander,” I respond.

  Hralfar raises an eyebrow. “Is that it?”

  “For the most part. He wanted to award me with something more, but I declined.” I deliberately neglect to tell them about his agreement to care for my mother.

  Hralfar nods as Kjunn’s face contorts. “I thought as much,” says Hralfar. “For the same reasons you first declined to become a captain?”

  I nod.

  “Did he have anything more to say?”

  “Only that he plans for us to stay here and protect against any attack Tygnar might send.”

  Once again Kjunn’s expression shows his dissatisfaction, though he says nothing.

  “Understandable,” Hralfar comments. “Was there anything else?”

  “Nothing that comes to mind.”

  He nods. “You may go.”

  I hesitate.

  “Is there something you wish to discuss?” Kjunn asks.

  I shake the thought from my head. “No. Nevermind.” I bow slightly and walk from the room.

  Thrak’s training grounds lie layered on terraces to the side of the keep. They are small and consist only of practice dummies and targets. Most of the training takes place with leather and wool pads over our weapons so that we don’t kill each other as we spar. This has little effect on warhammers and maces, so I refrain from sparring, but still everyone comes away with bumps and bruises. Everybody but me.

  Genevieve now wields the sword of Lucius Swordbreaker. She practices moves on dummies, but the sword will not light on the soft material. Only when it hits or scrapes against metal will it begin to glow and then burn.

  A soldier approaches me as I practice slow moves against a practice dummy. This one is reinforced with iron bars rather than wooden poles, as I tend to break the wooden ones.

  “Captain!” he greets.

  “Yes?” I respond. I have not yet grown accustomed to the name of ‘captain,’ though I have had it for while now.

  “I’m sorry to disrupt your training sir, but I, with all due respect sir, would challenge you to a spar.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Yes, Captain. You are the mightiest of us all, and there are many things I could learn from you.”

  James gives me a nod and Percival shrugs. Nathaniel and Jericho are still going at each other with their blunted weapons.

  “Very well,” I mutter, hefting my hammer, which is already appropriately fitted for the duel. Not that a pad on the hammer head will do anything to dull the pain.

  He lifts his sword, which has some sort of thin sheath on it to keep the sharpness from killing somebody on accident. He holds a shield on his right hand, and fights with his left.

  Let’s get this over with, I think. He stands ready, and then pounces. Easily I bounce his sword to the side and knock him in the chest, just lightly enough to land him on his back. He looks down at the hammer head placed above his sternum.

  “What did you learn?” I ask, genuinely curious.

  As I help him up, he answers, “Not to be so eager to strike.”

  I nod. “What else?”

  He runs through the few seconds in which the battle took place. Then he shakes his head.

  “You left yourself open with the lunge,” I criticize. “All I had to do was knock your weapon to the side and you were wide open, even with the shield.”

  He nods. “I’d like another go.”

  “Very well,” I respond. Then we take our places and ready ourselves.

  This time he stays back, hovering. He’s waiting for me, I realize. Well then let’s give it to him.

  My first strike is one that I allow him to block. After the second he retaliates and I deflect it with a blow of the hammer. Then after another moment, I lash out, get through his block in a single swift movement, and knock him to the ground. A little bit of a crowd has started to form.

  He gets up with a grunt of disappointment. Nathaniel and Jericho, the victor having been the former, are now watching me.

  “No more,” I mutter.

  “I’d like to try!” says a soldier. Then he adds quickly, “If I may, Captain?”

  Reluctantly I nod.

  This battle goes much the same, without much of a fight. I wouldn’t go as far to call it a battle or even a fight.

  Another soldier pops up after I throw down a third. Just about everybody on the training grounds is watching.

  “No more,” I say louder.

  The soldier backs down. “As you wish, Captain.”

  “Why not?” Genevieve stands behind me, next to James. Her sword is out and uncovered, revealing the milky white blade.

  “This is a training ground,” I mutter. “Not a stage. I refuse to participate if the purpose is to see if they can best me.”

  “Is it because you are afraid you will lose?” she replies coldly.

  “I won’t,” I say quietly. “And you know I won’t. You learned that the hard way in Amgid.”

  She looks down, trying to burn holes in the bright green grass. There’s a light wind that rustles the longer blades.

  Then I walk to my practice dummy and resume my training. The crowd breaks up.

  Genevieve does not move until the crowd is gone and they have picked up their training where they left off. Then James approaches her.

  “I’ll take that duel,” he says.

  “Why?” she asks, eyes narrowed.

  “The same reason you challenged,” he retaliates, removing the cover from his sword. Her face softens and then a dark smile begins to tug at her lips.

  “I approve,” she says.

  They take their places across from each other and ready themselves. James is taller and broader than Genevieve, but the sword she wields requires both of her hands. James h
olds his shorter sword in his right, and a circular shield in his left.

  He’s so dead, I think to myself. His lack of experience and training places him far behind Genevieve in terms of skill. James, however, seems to be a natural.

  They trade a few blows, neither with any success. Apparently Genevieve’s thoughts were along the same track as mine, as she seems surprised at his ability to stave off her every attack. Her eyes narrow and she tries again.

  This time he is tested. Their blades clang only once or twice, and then he uses his shield to block a couple of strokes. He lashes out from behind his shield once, and she barely has time to parry his blow. As their blades connect again, they scrape off of each other and Genevieve’s blade lights noiselessly, though the loud shing echoes about the mountainside.

  Undeterred, James begins an onslaught of blows. Their blades spin around each other, and then Genevieve raises her flaming sword. It comes down into his shield and he rolls with the blow, slamming his sword into hers so that it is knocked away from her body. She recovers too quickly for him to strike, so he bashes with his shield.

  This, she was not expecting. One of her hands lets go of the sword in her surprise, leaving it supported only by her right. James bashes once again and the blade flies from her grasp. Genevieve twists and falls to the ground. She has just enough time to turn over and sit upright before his sword points at her neck.

  He stands with his sword pointed downward at her, and his shield dangling to his left side. She sits on her rear with one hand on the ground and the other above her head, as if she could stop the blow with her hand.

  James sticks his sword in the ground and offers his hand. She hesitates, but then takes it and he pulls her up. Nathaniel picks up the flaming sword to keep it from catching the grass on fire, but the area around it is already black and charred.

  “James, right?” asks Magnus.

  James only nods.

  “Well fought, soldier,” she says. “Well fought.”

  She takes her sword from Nathaniel and walks away briskly.

  I give James a small smile and congratulate him.

  “That was hard,” he says. “But a little fun.”

  “Looked like it,” I joke. He shakes his head and walks to Percival to resume whatever they had been doing before.

  I begin practicing another move on the dummy. Only a few seconds later, a soldier comes running at me across the grounds from the keep. I ignore him until he stands within fighting distance. Then he stops and says, slightly out of breath, “Captain Armstrong! Jarl Hralfar summons your presence immediately!”

  “What for?” I ask. Silently I add the words, What could it be this time?

  “He didn’t say! Only that it was urgent! He requires you without delay!”

  “Very well,” I answer, slightly worried. “Lead me to him.”

  Percival, James, Nathaniel, and Jericho notice the scene and follow me towards the keep. The messenger runs anxiously, and I run to keep up. The others seem slightly annoyed, but curious and just as uneasy as me.

  We enter the main gate and walk through a few halls and up some stairs. Both Jarls wait in the too-familiar council room.

  “Captain!” they announce simultaneously as I enter with my friends on my heels.

  “What’s this about?” I ask. “Why the urgency?”

  “We just received a message from one of our spies,” explains Jarl Hralfar.

  Before waiting for more information I ask, “Where is he stationed?”

  “Rakma,” he answers. “A small town outside of Kera.”

  I give him a puzzled look. “Why there?”

  “Exactly for this reason,” he responds impatiently. “Now let me finish!” I nod and gesture for him to continue. He proceeds, “We received a message from our spy in Rakma, saying that he intercepted Tygnar’s plans.”

  “How did he get them there?” I ask.

  “I don’t know!” fumes the Jarl. “Is it important?” When I don’t answer, he plows onward, “Their plans are not a direct attack of any kind, nor are they of large magnitude. They are trying to get rid of you!”

  “Obviously,” I mutter. Louder, I say, “I haven’t heard anything that benefits us. What is the problem?”

  “They are not planning to kill you in battle,” says they Jarl. “They plan on destroying you another way. They saw what damage the death of your father did to you. Now they plan to kill your mother.”

  My eyes widen. “I have to leave. Now.”

  Kjunn jumps up. “Are you out of your mind? You can’t leave us now! You’re a captain here! Now you want to leave us and travel by yourself to get to your mother before Tygnar does?! Surely you are not that stupid!”

  “You’re right,” I say darkly. “They can come with me.” I gesture to my friends on either side of me. Though I volunteered them, they agree with nods and gestures of their own.

  “But you can’t leave us!” argues Kjunn. “We can send another-”

  “Stop me,” I command. “If I can’t leave, then stop me.” Both Jarls look at me, astonished. “This is my mother we’re talking about,” I say. “This is her life. The dearest family member I have left and you are trying to deny me the right of being there for her.” They are at a loss for words, flabbergasted at the words coming from my mouth. “Stop me.”

  Finally Jarl Hralfar speaks softly, “I cannot.”

  “That’s what I thought,” I respond. “I will leave immediately. Those who wish to accompany me may come.”

  The Jarls agree silently. “When you return,” says Kjunn, “I may not be here. There are some things I need to finish up and oversee in Kera. Stop there on your return journey.”

  I acknowledge his request with a simple nod.

  “Safe journey,” says Hralfar. “May your mother be safe and sound when you reach her. Return quickly.”

  “Of course,” I reply. Then I leave the room with the others on my heels.

  Sojourn in Tears

  There are still a few hours of daylight left, and I use them to their highest potential. Nathaniel, Percival, James, and Jericho join me. Nathaniel seems almost as panicked as I am, and we lead the group at a pace quicker than we’ve ever traveled.

  I’m reluctant to stop for the night, but I know we must. We packed light, to travel faster, so my bedroll is not as thick or as warm as I would like.

  We knew that we would need armor, so of course we wear that and our weapons. No matter how this plays out, there will be blood shed, and I want to be prepared for it.

  We come to Kera within the fourth day, but we only stop to buy some food and supplies. It only takes us over an hour; then we leave the city and continue northward towards Terrace.

  We pass the Living Vale on our left, and I stare into it the entire time it is visible. Specifically, I gaze to the top of the great waterfall where my father lies. “We must stop,” I say.

  Percival almost runs into me and Nathaniel says, “What?!”

  “We must stop,” I say, quieter. Percival sees the direction I’m looking and something in his brain clicks.

  “Yes,” he agrees. “If you feel we must.”

  Then we take the turn into the Living Vale.

  I know this will take time. It will lengthen the journey by just less than a day, and though we must make this journey as quickly as possible, this stop is just as important to me as the reason for the journey is.

  The vale is even more verdant than when we saw it last. Everything has had at least a month or more to grow and change, everything for the better. Birds sing to us as we pass and our feet grind against the dirt of the path with scuffing noises. The pine boughs rustle and the wind blows lightly. A fox darts across the path and scrutinizes us from the cover of a thick hedge.

  The air is fresh. The cool wind brings a strong scent of pine and makes the air seem even crisper. The path leads up the left ridge of the vale, and eventually we rise above the tops of the trees and walk along the rocky ridge towards the top of the wat
erfall. We reach it much faster than we had the previous time.

  We eat lunch a little ways from the opening of the cave. There is little speaking, as the purpose of the sidetrack is obvious and unspoken.

  “Would you like us to come in with you?” asks Percival.

  “You may come if you want,” I reply softly. “I expect nothing from any of you.”

  Nathaniel is coming, but he does not need to voice it.

  We walk to the mouth of the cave together and stop. Unlit torches sit on the rocky walls just inside. The water feeding the falls flows from the cave solemnly, like it’s respecting the occasion. It seems too fast and deep to allow crossing at any point.

  The cave is dark, so I take one of the torches from its sconce and light it with my flint and steel.

  “We will wait here,” Percival says on behalf of the group. “You can go on.”

  I nod. “Thank you,” I mutter. Nathaniel nods. Then we turn and start into the cave on the left side of the underground river.

  I hold the torch steadily. The fire casts orange light on the rocky walls, spiky shadows flickering over the floor and sides. The tunnel turns right and the light from the mouth goes out of sight.

  Then we turn left and behold the tomb.

  It sits just as we left it. The rectangular box is placed exactly in the middle of the room, and unlit torches sit on the walls in their sconces. I light the ones to the sides with the torch I brought in. Then I stand by my brother and study the stone tomb.

  We say nothing. I rest my unoccupied hand on top of the tomb as Father would rest his hand on my shoulder: with tenderness and strength.

  Are you proud? I ask silently. Are you proud of me? Of what I have done and what I am becoming? I stop and wait, as if for a response. It doesn’t come. There are some who have taken to calling me Dragonhammer. I fight for you. I am well on my way to avenging you. You will not have died in vain. I pause again. Mother is in danger. The last thing you said to me was to take care of my mother. I intend to honor that request. She will be safe. I have already lost you. It would destroy me to lose her. The enemy knows this and they mean to destroy me by bringing harm to her. I would not be able to live with myself if such a thing were to happen. I promise you now that she will be safe. Nothing will happen to her. I bring her love. All will be well.