Only a few moments later, a loud bang draws all attention to the closed gates at the castle’s entrance. Following that, we hear the clang of the portcullis slamming into the ground. Tygnar soldiers flood the gate and pound on it, some of them screaming to be let inside.
Then our warhorn sounds: three short blasts. The fighting stops suddenly and we look to the source of the blow: Jarl Hralfar stands on top of one of the nearest houses.
He lowers the horn. He waits a moment. Then he says, “You may put down your weapons, and we will leave you unharmed. We do not desire your blood. We desire only to end the bloodshed.”
Every Tygnar soldier outside of the castle drops their weapons.
Hralfar nods and the soldiers part to give us a clear shot at the castle. Some of our soldiers surround them. From farther down the road, back towards the gate, we hear a low rumble.
I look curiously at the sound and see a single catapult rolling lazily down the road. Then it stops.
The Jarl raises an open hand. He waits only a moment, and then closes his fist.
If I Must
At Hralfar’s signal, the catapult releases its load.
The gate is its target, but the shot does not have to be accurate for us to gain entrance. A hole in the wall will be just as easy to enter as a broken gate.
We do not want to bring it down, however. Though we want the war to end, we do not want to destroy the city in which these people live.
The shot is a good one, but veers to the right of the gate and smashes a gaping hole into the main entrance hall of the castle. The warhorn sounds, and we charge into the rubble.
Many Tygnar soldiers lie in blood just inside, wounded by the stone shrapnel. Several, I am sure, met their deaths underneath the great stone ammunition.
The fighting breaks out again, but this time we are inside the castle.
Yellow dust floats in the air and layers the entrance hall. The light from the windows forms golden beams of visible dust in the air, and the hanging chandeliers seem to glow behind a curtain of the floating debris.
I knock aside two soldiers and whack another over the head with the end of the shaft. His helmet rings and he crumples.
I plow through their forces in the entrance hall like a fire in a field. Ullrog fights next to me every step of the way.
With a roar another wave of our soldiers pushes through the hole in the wall, with Jarl Hralfar at their head. Quickly we overtake the hall.
Once we get through the entrance hall, the dust clears. With normal visibility, the fighting becomes less chaotic and I fight with slightly more focus.
My blood boils as we fight down the hallway. We are nearing Titus. My anger rises and my blows become stronger and faster.
I sweep the legs from underneath a soldier and stab the spike into his chest, driving him to the ground. Without hesitation my hammer rises again to uppercut an oncoming victim.
We reach a large staircase and continue upwards.
“Hold,” says the Jarl. We stop and give him our attention. “Titus could be anywhere in the castle and we do not want him to escape.”
“We split up,” I suggest. “Each takes a few men and goes in a different direction.”
“Agreed,” says the Jarl. “I’ll lead, Magnus will lead, and Armstrong will lead. The other soldiers will flood the castle behind us.”
“Good,” says Genevieve. “Let’s get a move on.”
The group splits and we move three separate directions. Hralfar continues down the hall, Genevieve runs right, and I take a moment to survey my pick of the soldiers.
Every one of my friends stands behind me. A few extra soldiers stand with us. I only say, “Let’s get this done.”
Our troop runs down the hall, smashing anyone to get in our way.
Titus will be as far away from me as possible, I think. As far up as he can go.
“Where are we going?” Nathaniel asks.
“Up,” I respond. “He will want to put as much distance between us as possible.” I ram the breastplate of a soldier and continue, “But unfortunately for him-”--I pause to split the helm of another soldier-- “-he can only go so far.”
“So how do you know where you’re going?” he asks.
“I don’t,” I respond. “But the construction of the castle is simple and organized. It won’t be a problem to accurately guess our way to the top.”
We dart up the staircase to our right and then follow it up another flight. Aela dodges a blow and returns it quickly, then takes down another with a quick strike in the back. Another of them charges from the side and swings a battleaxe at her neck and she stumbles back, barely dodging the thing. He advances and readies another blow, knowing she won’t be able to get her balance to block, and then he falls dead beneath my warhammer.
“Watch yourself,” I say quietly as I help her to her feet. She says nothing.
We run up another staircase and turn left into a long hallway. The wall on the right is lined with open arched windows, and tapestries hang on the left wall across from them. The stonework is lightly shaded yellow, and a blue rug traces the middle of the floor all the way to the end of the hall.
Percival is tiring. I can see it in his eyes and the way he moves. Still he blocks, but he strikes less often and with less strength.
James is faring no better. An enemy counters James’ thrust, leaving my friend’s chest wide open and vulnerable. Ullrog sweeps the head from the man’s shoulders and James is left standing in shock.
An enemy warhammer smashes into Percival’s shield and suddenly he drops. The warhammer rises again, and I see Percival on the ground. Feebly he moves the shield over his vitals and gropes for his sword, which has fallen only inches too far. Then I see the necklace he wears around his neck.
She gave me this, I recall him saying.
I see Serena’s smile and her hands clasped behind his neck. I see her leaping upon him to embrace him all of those months ago. I see hope. It cannot end here.
My blood simmers; inhuman rage fills me. Abruptly I know what Ullrog meant when he said, Fire in you.
The enemy’s warhammer does not have time to strike. Instead it clangs to the ground beside its lifeless bearer and I stand above them.
I ram my hammer into one’s helm, turn and knock the knees out of another, and then twist and uppercut across the chest of yet another. Ullrog finishes the second, but the other two don’t get up.
My hammer swings into the side of the last helm, and the body is flung to the side with a nasty crack.
Then I turn to Percival.
“Are you alright?” I ask. “Can you walk?”
“Don’t worry about me,” he responds frantically. “Go! Get him!” He points and waves his arms as he lies pathetically on the ground. “It’s Jericho!”
By the time I see him his eyes are already closed and he has gone limp. “No,” I mutter.
“Jericho,” I say lowly. He is not breathing and the pulse is light. I look down at his leg and see that if this does not kill him, he will not be able to fight, likely for the rest of the war.
“Somebody get his armor off,” I say. “He is dying.”
James unstraps the metal and takes it from Jericho’s chest. I rip Jericho’s shirt and bind it tightly around his right thigh, which is bleeding profusely and bent in half, and then stuff a wad of it between the binding and the wound to keep pressure on it.
“We can’t stop for too long,” I say. “Percival, can you walk?”
“I’m fine,” he says, standing. “Just a little light-headed.”
“Stay with Jericho, get him to safety.” I point at two of the soldiers and command, “You two go with him. We can handle ourselves.” They only nod their consent.
“Be careful,” Percival says.
“You too,” I respond. Then they disappear around the corner.
We run down the hall and turn left into a corridor much wider and grander than the last. Partway down, a great pair of double doors stands in t
he wall. “This looks important,” I say. “Probably Titus’s chambers.” I try the door handle but it won’t give. So I smash it.
The room is empty. Apart from the kingly bed, the two dressers, the wardrobe, the desk under the window, and the table and chairs, that is.
“Search the room,” Nathaniel says.
“No need,” I reply, moving towards the door on the right, next to the wardrobe.
It refuses to budge, but I wasn’t expecting it to. My hammer proves more effective than the latch.
Bits of wood lie on the floor of the revealed landing where a spiral staircase rises to the right and out of sight. Still I see no one.
“How do you know if he’s up there?” James asks.
“Just a feeling,” I reply. Then I begin to climb.
The staircase leads us to a similar landing two floors up. The room is blank with only a single door leading out. Without hesitation I bang the door open and step out into the open air.
We stand on the top of the tallest tower of the castle. Behind us is a small wall with the door in the center, leading back down to the king’s quarters. On either side of the walls is a small tower only a few feet higher than the wall. The circumference of the monstrous rectangular tower is lined with crenellations. On the far side, atop a crenellation with his back to us, stands Titus.
He hears the door but doesn’t do anything except say, “Dragonhammer. You found me.”
“You knew I would,” I reply. I can’t help but wonder what he’s doing on the crenellations. “But why run here?”
He chuckles. “Come closer and I won’t have to talk so loudly.”
I shake my head and ready my hammer, and then warily step forward. The others hang back by the door.
After I get within about ten feet, I stop.
He turns his head to acknowledge my presence, but does not look at me. “I ran here because…” He turns slowly to face me. “Well… let’s just say that I wasn’t running.”
“What are you talking about?” I mutter.
“In a way,” he continues. “I am finding peace. You know, whenever I was struggling with a decision, I would come here. Here I can think.”
“And what have you decided on?” I press.
“Patience,” he says softly.
“I find no point to words, especially these,” I reply. “Now talk or I kill you now.”
He clicks his tongue and looks at me. “Why so eager? You wanted none of that at the monument.”
“Believe me I wanted it,” I seethe. “I gave you a chance and you threw it back.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Because I believe in second chances.”
“You see, that’s why I’m here pondering. I’ve been given a second chance, so to speak. You won’t kill me for your honor. I cannot back down. So I find myself here.”
I shake my head. “I’ll prove both of those wrong right here.”
“That’s your problem, see. You can’t-”
“You’re stalling,” I interrupt. “Get to the point so we can finish this.”
He shrugs. “I’ve figured out a way to beat you, Dragonhammer. And it’s not anything we’ve ever tried before.”
My eyes narrow. “So you’re staring at the sky from the top of your castle?”
He turns and then peers over the edge. “You know…” he says. “I’ve always liked heights. Always found them… exhilarating.”
“Fascinating,” I reply. “So beat me now.”
“It’s vengeance you want,” he says, turning back to me. “It’s vengeance I want. I cannot best you, Dragonhammer. You’ve proven that. I cannot have the vengeance I desire so badly for the death of my father. So if I cannot have my vengeance…” He trails off and stares into my eyes.
My knuckles turn white on the shaft of my hammer and I start forward. He spreads his arms and says quietly, “Moh theg mai, nur.” Just as I reach the crenellations, I swing my hammer. It hits only open air.
Titus falls backwards over the edge and I watch him tumble to the earth far below. It takes him several seconds to reach the street. I cannot look as he hits the stone.
I force myself to look down at his crumpled remains. For several moments I am silent. Then I walk solemnly back to the door and say quietly, “We are done here.”
Brother
“Moh theg mai nur,” I repeat. “That’s what he said before he fell.”
“It’s definitely the ancient tongue,” Aela says. “But I don’t know how to speak it.”
We sit at the table in the dining hall of the castle, but I am not feasting.
Jericho lies unconscious in the infirmary. Last I heard, his pulse was light and he had lost a lot of blood. Right now the healers are working on getting water into his body, and they assure me he will live, but his right thigh is broken horribly. Percival sits across from me now, filling his stomach like the rest of the soldiers are doing.
Ullrog eats the same way he fights: viciously. He tends to go for the meats rather than the fruits or breads, and his fangs tear the food violently. Every minute or two, he wipes his mouth with his enormous forearm.
“Don’t let it bother you,” Percival says, his mouth half-full. “It probably doesn’t mean anything.”
“That’s not what is bothering me,” I reply.
“Then what is?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I say quietly.
Nathaniel’s fork clicks softly on his plate, drawing my gaze. His lamb and potatoes remain untouched.
“What’s the matter?” I whisper.
He shakes his head.
I nudge his shoulder with my own. “Come on, brother. You can tell me.”
He glances at me quickly with welling eyes. Then they lock securely on his dinner.
I take a deep breath. “I’m done,” I say, standing slowly. “It’s… it’s been a long day. I need an early night.”
Nathaniel says nothing, but rises with me. Aela gives me an odd look as I leave, but Percival seems to understand and silently consents.
We exit the dining hall and turn down a blank sandstone hallway. We say nothing until we turn right and enter a hall similar to the one Jericho had fallen in. The windows lie on our right, and as we look out I can see the sleeping city underneath a vast indigo sky. The stars are bright.
“I can’t do this anymore,” he whispers, leaning partway out of a window. “I can’t.”
I only nod. “None of us want to be here.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to be here,” he says looking at me. “I said that I can’t.”
“Why not?” I coax softly.
“Do you know how many people I killed today?” he retorts quietly, staring blankly out at the city.
I shake my head, though it was a rhetorical question.
“Twenty-two,” he says, making eye contact once again. His face crumples and he looks out at the sky as tears begin to fall. “Twenty-two homes that will find themselves fatherless. Twenty-two homes that will receive condolences that their father will never return.” He gasps for air between sobs. “I wonder how many of them had sons or daughters. Are their wives and children in this city, waiting for them to return?”
I stare down at the quiet city. Guards patrol the streets with torches. A few house windows are still lit, firelight flickering behind closed wooden shutters. Several men are at work, removing the bodies from the streets. Blood has dried between the cobblestones and in the gutters.
When I do not answer, he chokes and continues, “Twenty-two mothers that will find themselves just like ours.” His voice cracks and he looks down. Then the sobs overtake him.
I put my arm around him and pat his shoulder tenderly. No words come to mind. All I can do is hold him.
He forces himself to stop, and then says. “I looked into the eyes of the last man I killed.” He looks up at me with his bloodshot eyes. “Before my weapon hit, I saw only terror. I saw someone that was helpless. That could do nothing to protect himself or his
family. Then I killed him.” He begins to break down, but pushes his emotions away and continues, “How could I do that? How?” His voice trails off and another tear falls. “I looked at him after… after what I had done.” I nod slowly. “He had panic and fear frozen on his face. His eyes were open. The light had gone from them but they still seemed to ask me why.”
“I have learned not to look,” I confess quietly.
“How do you live with it?” he asks.
“I would not be standing here tonight if I had not killed the men that I have,” I reply. He looks back out at the sky. “You would not be standing here if you had not killed him.”
He nods. “I want to go back, Kadmus. I want it all to go away so everything can go back to the way it was.”
“As do I,” I whisper.
Suddenly he asks me a question I definitely did not expect. “Do you know why I wanted you to come hunting with me?”
“No,” I reply.
“Because you’re my brother,” he answers. “I wanted to spend some time with you.”
I nod, recalling the words my father had spoken to me concerning the same subject. He looks up to you, Kadmus. They all do.
“It is the greatest decision I’ve ever made,” he says. “That was the last time I truly spent time with you. Ever since, this war has been driving a wedge between us. All of our time is spent fighting, planning a fight, waiting to fight, or marching to a fight. I don’t get to spend time with you anymore, or anyone else for that matter.”
“I’m sorry,” I reply. “I didn’t realize.”
“I miss it so much. I want to wrestle my brothers, go on hunting trips, take a trip to Terrace, and race barrels down the hill…”
I smile. “Mom hates it when we do that.”
He grins, tears still piling in his eyes. “That’s part of what made it so fun.”
I chuckle and after a moment my smile fades. “I’m sorry,” I comfort. “I want it too.” I lean out the window next to him. “Do you realize that if we had been a day or two later coming back from that trip, there wouldn’t have been a home to come back to?”
Dragonhammer: Volume II Page 10
