The Battle for Jordborg

by Logan Petty

  “What are these things?” He shouted to no one in particular.

  Terina launched a javelin at one that had Banthan by the throat. The Javelin struck it in the side, piercing its ribs. It shrieked and crumpled. She shouted back to Sawain as she drew an axe from her side holster. “Vampyr! They’re vampyr! Vicious shapeshifters that feed on the blood of others to fuel their magic!”

  Sawain did not know exactly what vampyr were, but he did not like them. He roared and rushed the three that were closing in on Mari as she struggled to cut the netting away. They heard him coming and jumped high into the air, their cloaked arms shifting to leathery wings instantly. They laughed scornfully as he cut thin air. He snarled, and then sliced at the netting confining his allies. Mari quickly crawled out from under the net, dripping and shivering.

  “T-Timbrel . . . . Where’s Timbrel?”

  The vampyr circled above Sawain’s head, taunting him, “Poor little thrallborn, can’t hit anything with that big sword!”

  Sawain roared furiously and heaved his great blade at the nearest vampyr like a gargantuan throwing knife. It split the air, crackling like a wrathful bolt and ripped clean through the target, causing it to explode into electrified ashes before it could scream. His sword crashed into the hillside, splitting the rock it hit. The remaining vampyr snarled viciously at him.

  “Now you’re unarmed, thrallborn. Bad move.”

  They dove at him from the air with talon-like claws extended. They were so fast, he barely had time to draw his knife before they pounced him. His back hit the stony ground hard as they forced him off his feet. He finally got a good look at their faces. They had dark blue-gray skin that was leathery and cracked. Their white hair fluttered wildly around their bat-like faces. Their noses were turned up like a bat’s and their eyes, devoid of pupils, glowed like a pair of giant embers. A row of needle-like fangs gnashed at Sawain’s throat as they screeched and thrashed.

  He was able to twist his arm in order to thrust his knife into the right assailant’s chest. It let go as it reeled backward, screaming. It did not go far. Eldingbál tore from the creek bed and pounced the wounded vampyr, tearing it limb from limb. Sawain punched at the remaining vampyr with his free hand, knocking some of its fangs loose. More of the cloaked figures flooded the skies above Sawain. Lightning and flame crackled through the air as the drakes returned fire, taking down a few of the creatures. Sawain knew they were vastly outnumbered as he continued to thrash the vampyr he now had by the throat. Several of the vampyr fell from the sky, full of arrows. A unified shout from the cliff above their position caused the vampyr to hesitate in their assault. Several spears of ice darted through the air, burying themselves in several unfortunate foes.

  Sawain finished beating his current enemy unconscious as a gnoll wielding two hand axes tackled another vampyr that sought to impale Sawain on a pike. The gnoll buried his axes in the creature’s chest cavity and yelped gleefully as its thin blood sprayed him. Sawain turned his blade on the gnoll and tensed his muscles for a lunge when the gnoll saw him and raised his hands in a sign of good will.

  “Whoa, whoa, I’m on your side, friend! Trust me on this!”

  Sawain drew another dagger and pointed his blade warily at the gnoll. “I make a point to not trust gnolls.”

  “Can’t say I blame you,” a woman’s voice called out from above him as another ice spear pinned a vampyr that attempted to flee the onslaught, “but he’s with us.”

  The remaining vampyr shifted into their bat forms and scattered in every direction. Sawain noticed that there had to be over thirty of their corpses on the ground. He glanced up to the source of the woman’s voice. He saw four figures overlooking the cliff above him. The woman who addressed him wore flowing black robes etched with strange runes of gold along the borders. She wielded a dagger that dripped with her own blood, the wound in her other palm the obvious source. Beside her stood a man with dark skin and piercing gray eyes that shone with intelligence. His very composure was that of a man used to having respect. He wore a shirt of black mythril and red cotton pants covered in chainmail. The sword in his hand shone with a purple ethereal brilliance. Its hilt bore a silver cross guard that featured a miniature relief of a rampant stag just below the blade. A mask of purple silk covered the lower half of his face and a black hood over his head that obscured any other details. A stout dwarf with an icy blue beard stood beside him. He wore the familiar black and gold angular plate mail of Sawain’s old mentor. An elf in mottled leather armor smirked down at Sawain as he drew his moss covered cloak tighter around his shoulders.

  “Well, now I’ve seen it all,” the elf perked up. “Axel, I do believe we’ve found that wayward shieldling of yours.”

  Sawain dropped his sword as his jaw dropped. He had to be dreaming.

  “Axel? Is that really you?”

  The dwarf was already halfway down the hillside, swinging his hammer fiercely as he drove more vampyr skyward. Syd and Kyra sniped the fleeing vermin with arcane blasts and enchanted arrows. The remaining attackers broke their assault in a panic as they began dying rather quickly. Axel was mere feet from Sawain when he dropped his hammer, tears streaming into his beard. Sawain took a few steps forward then saw the dwarf’s armored fist launch at his face.

  Blinding pain and a bright flash of light obscured Sawain’s vision as his rear hit the ground and blood flowed from his nose. His hands instinctively went up to his face to staunch the blood flow. As his vision returned, he saw the same armored hand extended toward him. He hesitantly took the assistance and Axel pulled the half elf to his feet. His teacher stamped a steel boot hard into the ground.

  “What were ye thinking, laddie?! We get home from the north only to find ye’ve scampered off t’get yerself killed. The old taverntoads at the strongarm said ye’d been askin’ after gnolls! So here we are, goin’ on two years later, still fightin’ Syd’s stupid crusade against the gnolls what kidnapped ye again, and here we find ye feedin’ the vampyr. What do ye have t’say fer yerself, eh?”

  Tear streamed down Sawain’s face, likely from the searing pain from his broken nose, but also from the overwhelming joy that rose in his chest. He wiped at the blood as the other members of the Dawnstar Company joined the reunion. Kyra leapt at him, hugging him tightly around the neck. Her hood fell back, revealing her shining red hair, now cut much shorter.

  “You’re alive! You’re really alive! I didn’t want to believe it, but I’d just about given up hope. Then we heard the rumors of a thrallborn warrior fighting the invasion forces in the south.”

  A sharp nudge in Sawain’s side caused Kyra to let go and step back. Mari poked her head around his shoulder.

  “Nice jab there, old man. Mind introducing us to your friends, Sawain?”

  Blood trickled into his mouth as he opened it to answer. He spat it out and tried again as the rest of his party gathered around.

  “Everyone, this is the Dawnstar Company, the greatest heroes of Anvilheim. The dwarf with the nasty jab is my teacher, Axel Rimebeard. He started me on my career path. The fiery mage is my friend Kyra Wyteskornr. The unnaturally charming elf in the dirt cloak is my chess instructor, Sydarion. And this . . . .”

  The man in the black armor did not fit in Sawain’s memory. Syd stepped forward.

  “First of all, it’s moss. Also, allow me the privilege of introducing you to Dawnstar’s newest recruit, Vaskar Gildhart, crown prince of Jordborg.”

  Binze looked up from cleaning a wound in his flank. “Kor’s blood! Prince Vaskar? You yet live?”

  The prince nodded slowly, not making eye contact with anyone. “So far. The Dawnstar company picked us out of a processing camp after our party had been set on by the same clan of vampyr bounty hunters that nearly claimed you lot.”

  Sawain turned to the gnoll as he skulked behind Vaskar. “What’s the gnoll’s story? I thought you were on a crusade against the gnolls, Syd?”

  Syd frowned, “Come now, Sawain, you know genocide is distasteful t
o me. Besides, this gnoll’s an outcast, sort of like you. He was raised in Jordborg and is the prince’s personal bodyguard.”

  The gnoll poked his head from behind Vaskar’s shoulder and raised a hand sheepishly. “Uh, hello? I’m Rognur. I’m pretty used to people screaming or throwing sharp things at me when they first meet me, so no hard feelings about earlier. I hope we can work together.”

  Sawain looked from the gnoll to Axel. “Work together? With gnolls? Hmph… Well... As much as I hate them, my fight is with the Grey King.”

  Axel nodded slowly as Kyra stepped up to Sawain’s face, muttering an incantation. He felt Mari’s fingernails suddenly wrap around his arm and dig in as Kyra’s hand touched his face, a warm light emanating from her. His nose pulled itself back together with a pop that made his stomach lurch. Axel answered him as he glanced at the elf maid who glared at Kyra from Sawain’s side.

  “Aye, well, the gnolls who we are hunting have taken up residence in Jordborg. Word on the fells is yer old enemy sold their blades to yer new one. Makes ‘em both a threat now. Besides, I just found ye. Can’t let ye go wandering off on yer own again, can I, lad?”

  Sawain grinned as the first drops of rain splashed against his blood covered face. “Can’t argue with you there. We’re about to get drenched. Maybe we can take this discussion elsewhere?”

  Axel laughed, “Aye, we have ourselves a nice cave we’ve been using nearby as a sort of base of operations in the lower fells. Follow me laddie, and we’ll reconvene there.”

  Chapter 4:

  Sawain’s leg muscles ached as he marched along the side of a stony hill in the failing light and falling rain. Axel led the party on an hour-long expedition through the fells north of Jordborg. A cold gust swirled among the entourage as the dark storm clouds choked out the last rays of daylight. The world slowly shifted into the colorless realm of night in Sawain’s vision as they descended into a small valley among the rocks they traversed. A fissure in the hillside came into view as they skirted a large boulder. This fissure settled into a dry creek bed several feet below the top of a canyon hidden by the rocks that crowded its edge. A cave roughly the size of an average human cut a deep hole into the side of the canyon. Axel waved for the others to follow as he marched in.

  They limped in a single file line into the depths of the land. The passageway was narrow. Sawain glanced back to check on Binze, who was the largest in the party. He slouched forward with his shoulders hunched inward in order to squeeze through the natural corridor. Despite the challenge of mobility, Binze wore a calm demeanor across his face. He nodded at Sawain when their eyes met, to signal his acknowledgement of the Swerdbrekker’s concern. Satisfied that all of his team could progress, Sawain turned his attention forward. It did not take long for the darkness to be broken by a warm orange glow that bounced off the stone walls. Syd sighed as he stretched his arms as far as he could in the tunnel.

  “Welcome to Fort Syd, new home of the Dawnstar Company. Quite an upgrade from the old manor, isn’t it, Sawain?”

  The light intensified around the convoy and Sawain turned a bend that opened into a large cavern. This room stretched so high that the light did not reach the roof and was large enough to hold a small army with ease. Sawain wondered if it might be larger than the grounds of Mistveil Farm. Dozens of lanterns rested on stalagmites that had been carved into tables. Stone columns rose from the ground and into the darkness above at varying intervals throughout the cavern. A makeshift forge stood twenty feet away from the entrance. Racks of iron swords and spears lined the walls around it. Sawain could see the outlines of buildings beyond the lamplight. The sheer magnitude of this cavern reminded him of Underfell Town.

  “This is quite the cave you found here. Did you build all of this?”

  Kyra laughed softly, shaking her head as she gave Sawain a playful shove. “No, you oaf, not all of it. We just built camp among the lamplight. This cave was abandoned when we came across it.”

  Axel cut in, “My guess from the handiwork we’ve found so far is it was once a lowland Dwarf settlement. No more than one or two families, I’d say. They must not have been here long, or this cavern would be much deeper and more intricate. Also, might I add, Fort Rimebeard has a much nicer ring to it. More fitting for an underground lair.”

  Sawain nodded slowly as he listened to the Dawnstar Company’s banter and let his eyes wander around the abandoned homestead. Timbrell shuddered as he tucked himself under Mari’s cloak, “I don’t like this place, Swerdbrekker. Lots of darkness that runs deeper than is natural.”

  Mari sidled up to Sawain’s arm, hugging it firmly. “I’m with Timbrell. Maybe we should hold the meeting outside. I don’t like being in a darkness that I can’t see through.”

  Sawain noticed that there were shadows in this cave that his eyes could not penetrate, but he always assumed his night vision was weaker than that of his full-blooded allies. He tried to conceal his rising nervousness as he chuckled.

  “Come on you two, what kinds of Ghosts are afraid of the dark? Right, Banth?”

  Sawain looked over his shoulder to see Banthan had retreated to the far back, clinging to the flank of an annoyed Terina. He quickly sidled away from her when he heard his name and caught Sawain’s glance.

  “Er, um, right. Nothing to be scared of in here, girls. Me and Sawain, we’ll protect you.”

  Mari let out a nervous snicker, “I bet it’s hard to protect anyone when you’re hiding behind a girl, Banth.”

  Banthan turned a slight shade of scarlet and scowled at the ground silently as Axel drew everyone’s attention to him with a whistle. He gestured to a stone table that was encircled by a dozen chairs. Everyone found a seat around it or stood off to the side of it as he cleared his throat.

  “Gather ‘round, lads and lassies. We have much to discuss and little time in which to discuss it. The Grey King’s shadow grows ever larger with each passing day. Now, I have much to scold ye over, my shieldling, but I fear yer time as my student has passed. The fellsfolk, they’re callin’ ye a hero. Say yer the one who charged from the darkness of Alfhaven and shattered the Grey King’s front lines. Wot’s this all about, eh?”

  Sawain sighed, “It’s a long story, master. I suppose the short version of it goes that I did go after those gnolls, and your greatest fears are fairly accurate. They killed me that day in that ruined temple. Left me to rot. But Turin, god of the Sturmforge had other plans for me. He brought me back, sent me to Alfhaven. There, I trained under my uncle, Nerelis, and met my friends who would become the Outriders called the Ghosts of Alfhaven. Well, we went through a lot to get here, but here we are. We’ve been out of the woods not even a week and we’ve killed two grey priests and hundreds of the Grey King’s minions. Our army has grown quickly. We number close to fifty strong. Mostly freed thralls, but they are willing to fight.”

  Kyra whistled low, “Look at you go. But Sawain, thralls? I mean, I know you came from that background, but you’ve had two years of training under two different masters from two different nations.”

  Sawain gripped the table nervously as he glanced at Kyra. Her stare was too intense for him to return it for long. He shifted his eyes away.

  “I understand your concern, but think on this: these ex-thralls were ex-warriors before their capture. My ranks consist of orcs who had the courage to stand against their own people, centaur who hunted the undead professionally for decades, and soldiers from the fell towns all around who were the last ones standing as that monster’s armies swept through their homes. These people are not thralls. They are warriors, tried and true. They survived enslavement to a master who has no pity for the living. I dare say many of them are far stronger than I could ever be.”

  Syd pounded the table with a fist. “Well said, little brother! Spoken like a true champion of the people. I, for one, am behind you and your army, and I think my compatriots should think before criticizing your judgment. Sawain is the sharpest student I have ever had the honor to tutor. I have faith
in his abilities.”

  Sawain smiled. It felt good to have Sydarion’s doting back in his life. He looked around at all his long lost friends as it dawned on him that one was missing.

  “Wait, it just occurred to me. Where’s Rylie? Did he stay behind in the city?”

  The members of the Dawnstar Company grew silent as their countenances fell. Sawain’s stomach twisted. After a moment, Axel forced out a hoarse response.

  “He uh . . . Sawain, Rylie fought valiantly on the field of battle the night we marched on the gnolls in the Frostwylde. He died a proud warrior’s death. If not for his courage that night, we’d all be dead . . . .”

  Sawain choked back a lump in his throat as images of the small knight in gleaming armor filled his mind. He fought to maintain his composure.

  “Axel, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault, if I had only stayed where I was meant to be—”

  Axel cut him off with a wave of his hand and shook his bearded head. “Don’t do that to yerself, laddie. Rylie’s fateful hour was upon him. You had no control over it. We honor him in his tales, and he lives on through our words. It’s Anvilheim’s way. Rylie’s way. Come now, let us not dwell on the past, but plan for the future.”

  Kyra nodded cheerfully. “That’s right! Now that we’re here there’s nothing to fear. We have your back through thick and thin.”

  Syd chuckled, “Oh yeah, Kyra sure has missed watching your back, little brother.”

  A bout of laughter broke out as Kyra scowled, turning red in the face.

  Mari leaned up to Sawain’s ear. “Say, all this chumming around is great and all, but, um, what about the dragon?”

  Vaskar immediately leaned forward, his penetrating glare fixed on Sawain. “What dragon?”

  Sawain shot Mari a sideways glare for which she returned a smug grin. “Yes, thank you Mari. The dragon. Right. Well, you see, you caught us at an awkward time. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re a few score short of an army of fifty. Binze, care to fill the newcomers in?”