Mighty Hammer Down

by David J Guyton

  Chapter 8

  They ran down the alley as fast as their feet would carry them. Rommus drew his knife so that he would at least have a fighting chance if any of these men caught up to them. He could hear the boots stomping on the cobblestone behind him, and he knew that if he paused for a second to look at his pursuers, he would encounter a blade before he could see the person wielding it.

  The alley curved around a corner slightly, and when he saw what waited ahead of him, dread overtook him. Two more armed Mages. There was no way that he could defeat five, let alone seven men while protecting this woman, and now he had no choice but to try. The Mages in the distance walked slowly toward their prey. Rommus frantically searched the alley for a hidden exit or something to use as a weapon, but he saw nothing but cold stone walls.

  As he ran, he considered the fact that the men behind them were probably pumping their arms as they struggled to keep up and their swords were most likely not leveled at his back. He took a great risk that could have cost him his life. He stopped and crouched to the ground. Two of the four chasing him tumbled over him, their swords clattering to the ground. The other two continued to chase Alana, but turned back when they heard the swords fall.

  "Not the girl!" the fifth man of the group yelled as he brought up the rear. "Get him!"

  He raised an arm and pointed at Rommus, his sleeves hemmed with blue satin.

  Rommus wasted no time and stabbed the nearest Mage in the leg, leaving the knife buried hilt-deep in the unfortunate man. He screamed as he reached to his leg, dropping his sword and falling to the ground. That was the outcome Rommus expected, and he dove for the blade. Alana saw her opportunity as well, grabbing one of the other dropped swords before their owners could make sense of the madness.

  One of the weaponless assassins kicked Rommus under his chin before he got a good grip of the sword, and then stomped on his outstretched arm to foil his plans. The man then screamed and fell to his knees as Alana pulled her sword free from his middle. Without missing a step, she was off clashing swords with another Mage. Rommus stood, sword in hand, and deflected several thrusts from another attacker.

  Seeing the mayhem, the distant Mages were running in to assist. It was all happening too fast to see what was going on, but Rommus managed to open the belly of one of the Mages, sending blood and innards to cover the cobblestone street. Alana had spilled the blood of two others, making little red rivers between the stones. Rommus rushed to the attackers, shouldering one away from Alana and slicing deeply into the arm of another. Alana quickly stabbed the man in his gut when he fell, twisting the blade sharply before removing it. The one who seemed to be in charge was holding back and staying away from the clanging swords. Rommus spun with all his might and attempted to sever the head of the man with the wounded arm, but only managed to cut his neck open and knock him to the ground.

  With all the men bleeding into the street, Rommus and Alana turned to the leader of the group. He was already running down the alley and out into the street, tucking his sword into his robes. It was all over before they realized it.

  Rommus turned to her, panting. "Are you all?"

  Alana screamed. The Mage Rommus had stabbed in the leg had pulled the knife free while lying there on the ground and stabbed Alana in hers. She screamed again before Rommus could bring the sword down on the man's arm, severing it at the elbow. Another quick swing and the man's neck was open and bleeding out his life onto the street. He cursed himself for killing the man in rage and not interrogating him before he did so. He refocused on Alana, who had fallen to the ground, holding her leg in agony.

  Letting his sword fall, he did his best to comfort her, holding her head in the crook of his arm so that she would not have to hold it up on her own. "It's not very deep, but I am going to have to pull it out, and it will need to be sewn shut. Can you handle that?"

  "I think so," she said through gritted teeth.

  "Good because that's the only choice you have."

  He took a firm hold of the bloody handle and yanked it out, causing her to scream again. He tossed the knife aside and took off his shirt.

  "I didn't realize you were the kind of man to take advantage of a woman in a situation like this," she said with her best attempt at a smile.

  He paused a moment to consider what she meant, the joke finally hitting him. "No, this is to wrap your leg in so that we can reduce the bleeding. We'll have to get you to the Emperor's Hall. It's not far."

  "No!" she protested. "No I don't want to be anywhere that people might think I am that other Vindyri woman. Please can we just leave Brinn?"

  "Leave Brinn?" he asked as he tied his shirt around her wounded leg. "We can't leave Brinn now, you can't even walk. They already released you, they know you're innocent."

  "Please Rommus, don't take me there," she said softly as tears filled her eyes.

  She stared at him through that watery gaze until his heart melted with pity for the woman.

  "All right. I shouldn't go walking around these busy streets shirtless anyway. If we take this alley to the end, it connects to another alley that leads to my forge. I live above it, so I can look to your wounds there. But let me tell you right now, I am not skilled in the arts of healing." He slipped his arms under her, getting ready to pick her up.

  "Are you skilled in the arts of carrying women back to your home?" she said with a smirk as she put her arms around his neck to help him bear her weight.

  "This is what you think of at a time like this?"

  "A time like what? How do you know I don't do this every day?"

  "Well, since you seem to have a knack for finding trouble, I guess I can't assume this isn't your everyday routine. You must lead a very exciting life."

  She sighed and laid her head against his bare chest as he carried her. He was a little embarrassed because of how sweaty he was from the fight, but she made no complaint, and he made no attempt to stop her.

  After a long silence, Rommus spoke. "Thank you for saving my life back there. If those men had caught me alone, I'm sure I wouldn't have made it."

  "I should thank you, good sir. I wouldn't have made it without your help either."

  "Yeah that reminds me; where did you learn to fight like that? I don't know of any women who would hold a sword, much less use one. Do they train women to fight in Vindyrion?"

  "No. Vindyrion is much like Medora, except there is not as much wealth or as many pretty buildings. Our women are not warriors, just as the women here are not. We also don't have statues of the gods everywhere like you have here. You Medorans seem to take your religion seriously."

  "Oh don't let the statues fool you. Most people who believe in the gods are just reaching out for something to believe in or belong to. I think it's all rather absurd really, but I do appreciate a well-carved statue." He smiled down to her when she looked up at him. "You never answered my question. Where did you learn to fight like that?"

  "Oh, I had two brothers who were in the Vindyri army. I had to learn to defend myself against them or they might have killed me in their games. I guess you had some training of your own?"

  "Yes. As I mentioned, my father is the General of all the Medoran Legions. I joined the army years ago, but I left. It wasn't for me."

  "Did you ever see any battle?"

  "I encountered a few enemies, but nothing epic like you're thinking. There are always rebel bands of Vindyri who attack us when they feel our guard is down, but we have had no wars since I was a boy."

  "Have you encountered any Bhoors?"

  "No, I have never seen one. We are too far from Bhoor-Rahn to run into any here. Besides, your country stands between our lands, so you would see them more often than we would. Our people are not fond of the Bhoors; most of us anyway."

  "You don't accept them among your people?"

  "No. Of course there are exceptions, but most people here feel they are too dangerous to have so near. The older men tell stories about them, and from how they describe them, I never
want to meet one.

  "Well they are people just like you and I. It's only fair to give them a chance."

  He laughed. "It's only fair that I am allowed to not trust them. I assume you have seen many in your country?"

  "I have seen a few. Most of them are terribly ugly. They almost don't look human. Their faces are long, and their teeth are as well. Some of them grow beards to hide their odd looks among us, but you can always tell. Their eyes are usually brown, but not like yours?more like the color of wine. The ones I saw in Burnhamheade lived just like the rest of us, but if what I hear is correct, they prefer tents rather than buildings."

  "I suppose in a land full of tents there aren't any well-carved statues to look at," he said as he turned up the alley that led to his forge.

  "Well I wouldn't know. I have never been there. Maybe they don't carve statues of their god, but they do spend a lot of time worshipping Rohni."

  "Rohni is their god? They only worship one?"

  "Yes, but Rohni is just the name they use for Oderion. It's the same thing."

  "I see. How does your leg feel?"

  "I can bear it. I don't like it, but I can bear it."

  "Well we're almost there. See that gray building up there apart from the rest? That's my forge."

  He was relieved to finally arrive at the forge. He didn't want her to know it, but carrying her all that way was not easy. As soon as he took her up the stairs, he laid her on his bed and gave his burning muscles a break.

  "Tear the hole in your pants open some so that I can sew the wound. I need to get some things together."

  She did as he asked while he gathered the necessary items. When he returned, he set them on the table next to his bed.

  "You live alone here," she said as she looked around the room.

  "Yes that's right. How do you know that?"

  "Well I can see there is only one bed here, so you don't share the room with a brother, and I see no flowers or feminine decorations. Don't you have a wife or a girlfriend?"

  "A wife!" he chuckled. "Hardly. But I am seeing someone, yes. As for a brother, I have none. My father is my only family," he said as he threaded a needle with black thread.

  "Your girlfriend doesn't like flowers?"

  "She doesn't live here. She says she can't stand the banging at night when I work downstairs. I built the walls twice as thick as they needed to be to keep the noise down for the neighbors, but it doesn't help much in here."

  She made herself useful by mixing the herbs and water in the bowl he had brought to the bed. "So not only are you strange, but you are a builder as well as a metalsmith.

  "Strange? Yes I built this place with the help of some friends I had in the army. But what makes me strange?"

  "You are strange because you forge your weapons in the darkness. Why on earth would you do that? Isn't it hard to see what you're doing?"

  He laughed. "No, it's not hard. I have oil lamps I use so that I can see. I do it at night because I have always done it at night. I am afraid that if I change my ways, I won't end up with such good work."

  "So you're superstitious, but you don't believe in the gods." Her smile turned to wincing as he began sewing the gash in her leg.

  "I don't know if I'd call it superstitious. I just pride myself on my work."

  She breathed in ragged, irregular breaths against the pain. When he paused she managed to speak again.

  "Well can I see something you made?"

  "Most of the interesting stuff is either downstairs or sold already, but there's a dagger there in the drawer." He reached over and pulled the drawer open a few inches.

  She reached inside and pulled it out. She was stunned. "It's beautiful! I have never seen anything like it. It reminds me of all the beauty I have seen here in Medora. How did you do this?"

  "I am a metalsmith. It's my job."

  "Yes but I have never seen anything so graceful and exquisitely detailed. How did you get it polished like that? It's like a mirror. I can see all my cuts on my poor face."

  "Well polishing is no secret. There's a process to it, and to get it really shiny you use very fine abrasives on a cloth."

  "And the gold? How do you get the gold parts on there? Will it come off?"

  He smiled. "No it won't come off. But I can't go telling you all my secrets or no one will come buy my weapons anymore."

  She looked at him with a pleading look that made him smile even more. He was happy that she was so impressed with this dagger of his.

  "I'll tell you what. I get to keep my secret about how to get the gold to stay on, and you get to keep the dagger."

  She breathed in a quick breath as her face lit up. "Really? No, I can't take this. It must be worth a fortune. I can't keep it."

  "Sure you can. Accept it as thanks for saving my life. Really, it's no big deal. I want you to have it. Besides I can see you're missing yours."

  She felt the empty sheath attached to her belt. "Thank you Rommus, I love it. But I'm afraid it's a little longer than the dagger I lost. I don't think it will fit in this sheath."

  "That's okay. There is one around her somewhere that fits it. I'll find it later. But for now let's finish up on this wound." He continued to weave the coarse black thread through her cut, and then added the mashed herbs when he was finished. She made grunts of complaint while he worked, but she was mostly focused on the gift he had given her.

  "How do you cover a whole sword in gold?" she asked as he started to clean up.

  "A whole sword? That can't be done. It would have to be made of solid gold, and that would be way too expensive and far too heavy to be used as a weapon. And most importantly, it would bend and break under any kind of stress. Gold is too soft to make weapons with."

  "Well, you obviously know more than I do, and maybe it was just a trick of the light, but I could have sworn that Mage with the blue sleeves had a gold sword."

  "I didn't get a good look at him, but you have to be wrong. I'm the only one I know of in Medora who could make anything like it, and I'm telling you, a sharp stick would make a better weapon."

  Alana's eyebrows drew together as she struggled to remember the details of the man and his sword. "I guess you're right, maybe it was just my imagination. It all happened so fast."

  "Well, if he shows up again, I'll ask him to see it," he said with a crooked smile. "Get comfortable and I will make us some food. Then you can rest."

  She returned his smile and covered up with his blankets, all the while admiring her treasured gift he had given her.