Aela’s eyes close as she inhales the salty air deeply, and they open again as she exhales through her nose.
“Have you seen the ocean before?” I ask.
“You mean aside from in Amnigaddah?” she asks. “Yes. Why do you ask?”
“Only wondering,” I answer. “Did your hunting adventures bring you to the gulf?”
She blinks deliberately. “No,” she says quietly.
“Then what brought you out here?” I ask.
“It wasn’t the gulf,” she says. “It was…” She falls silent and her eyes narrow.
“Where?” I urge.
“I was so small,” she replies. “I do not remember.”
She looks up at me and I can tell that she is most definitely lying about something, but she has hidden it within truth. There’s one detail she does not want me to know for one reason or another.
“Did it have something to do with the orphanage?” I ask.
She gazes out at the rolling ocean, leaning on the wooden railing. “No,” she answers. “It was before that. I was with my parents.”
I nod solemnly. “Do you remember anything about them?”
She shakes her head with equal solemnity, and says nothing.
I pause before asking, “What was so bad about the orphanage?”
She shakes her head.
Slightly irritated, I stare at the horizon and, despite the small mount of fervor inside, ask calmly, “Why all the secrecy?”
“I just don’t want to talk about it,” she states.
“Fair enough,” I respond. “It seems like it would help to get something off your chest. It’s not fun to carry something like that with you wherever you go. Especially…” I decide that it may not be best to continue, given that I might hurt her by bringing up her lost friend at the bridge.
She nods and looks down, but says nothing more.
James retches over the opposite side and I can’t help but feel sorry for him.
Ullrog paces impatiently in the bottom of the boat. Sailors give him odd looks, but always leave him alone. The last thing anyone wants to do is offend him.
Percival sits in his spot, fingering the amulet Serena had given him. He stares at it like he can see the face of his lover within: wistful, with an air of passion and serenity.
I sit next to him and he quickly stuffs the amulet back into his shirt. “You miss her?” I ask.
He nods. “I wish I could have a picture of her.” When I don’t respond he continues, “You’re lucky to have her here with you.”
I raise an eyebrow and ask, “What do you mean?”
“You don’t see it,” he grins.
“See what?”
He shakes his head, still grinning. “Apparently nothing,” he answers.
I shake my head.
“Is James still up top?” he asks.
“Yes. He just stays up there now. He’s getting better, but he’ll be the happiest of us all to finally get off of this ship.”
Percival chuckles. “Wonder why he’s taking it so hard?”
“He’s always had a weak stomach. Remember that time when he ate the bug and threw up before he even got it down?”
Percival laughs. “That had to be seven or eight years ago.”
“That’s not really that long,” I comment. “When you think about it.”
Percival shakes his head. “Makes me wonder where we’ll all be in another seven years.”
“Not here,” I reply. I notice Aela sitting close by, her eyes flicking between us as she eavesdrops on our conversation. She looks away as soon as she detects my gaze, and continues to draw with her charcoal and pad of parchment. I wonder how she can keep her hand so steady in spite of the rocking ship.
“Not here,” I repeat quietly.
It’s difficult to sleep aboard the ship. The rocking is soothing, but at the same time seems a little unnatural. James especially has a hard time, but it seems he has gotten over his seasickness.
“How close are we?” I ask Captain Alastair the next morning.
“Very,” he replies. “The city will come into sight very soon. I would suggest keeping below deck. We can’t risk anything that would give you away.
“Do they conduct cargo searches?” I ask.
“Sometimes,” he says. “I’ll see if I can convince them otherwise. Many of you I can disguise as my own sailors; that’s the reason I kept a relatively small crew on this trip. However, there are some of you that I cannot disguise.”
“Such as myself.”
“You are too recognizable. As are the orc and the commander. Most can hide in the bunkrooms. Pretend to be asleep. Let us hope I can keep them from searching for you.”
“How will you let us know when it is safe?”
“I will send someone down for you,” he responds. “Don’t worry. All will be well.”
All of us go below deck. Any that can pass as sailors go to the bunkrooms to feign sleep, as they will look a little suspicious standing on the deck without knowing what the dingflies they are doing.
I hate the suspense. Not knowing how fast time passes. Not knowing when we reach the harbor. Not knowing whether the guards will conduct a search, but knowing it could happen at any second.
There are no words spoken, but I hear everything else. The creaking boards of the ship as it rocks in the waves. The persistent squeak of some stowaway rat. The lanterns swinging slowly on their perches. The clomping footsteps of men on the floor above.
The heartbeat of a hundred men.
I almost jump out of my skin when Captain Alastair opens the door to the cargo hold and says, “We have made port. The way is clear.”
“Did they try to search the ship?” I ask Alastair later in his quarters. He sits at his desk, probably figuring something in a ledger of some sort or another. I sit across from him with Genevieve.
“He said because the scheduled time was made at such short notice that there was to be a short search to simply ensure the accuracy of the shipment.”
“How’d you talk him out of it?”
“Told him I didn’t want him searching through my perfectly good merchandise and if he wanted I could go to someone who trusted me a little more.”
I smile. “What did he say to that?”
“Nice doing business with you.”
I nod approvingly. “Well done, Captain. You have kept your word.”
“Time for you to keep yours,” he interrupts, looking up. “I’ve kept my side of the bargain. Where’s my money?”
“With Jarl Hralfar,” Genevieve replies smoothly.
Alastair’s eyes narrow. “You sneaky soldiers. I knew this was a bad idea.” He stands and slams his ledger shut. Genevieve twitches the tiniest bit but I don’t budge. “Tell me how I’ll get my money if you don’t win your battle!” he commands. Then he shakes his head and sits back down roughly.
“We will win this battle,” I reply. “And your best bet for getting your money is to stay here and help us win by any means necessary.”
He shakes his head and looks out the large grubby window at the back of the room. He stares at the port for a moment and then says, “You’re a clever man, Dragonhammer. But I’ll get my money.”
“Yes,” I respond. “You will. As soon as this city is ours.”
He nods and opens his ledger again. “You made me smudge my ink,” he accuses, licking the tip of his dirty finger and rubbing a black smear on the page.
I ignore him and study the dock from the window. Before we launch our invasion, we will have to send at least a few scouts to survey the area so that we will know which spots to attack, which to avoid, and which to fortify.
My view is severely limited by the ship around me, so I can only see one side of the dock. I chance a visit to the upper deck, careful to keep my left hand in my pocket. I wear a bandanna around my head and my clothes are worn and baggy. I deal with it for the sake of disguise. If I am recognized, we are all compromised.
I lean on the ra
iling casually, observing the port and all of its various activities and persons.
It’s much larger than Amnigaddah. The black stone wall of Balgr’s Fall is pressed as far up against the beach as possible, and I can see only one entrance from the dock into the city. It’s a large arched part of the wall, where stands a pair of steel-reinforced wooden double doors. As in Amnigaddah, there are small makeshift buildings against the wall of the city, but there are none that actually enter the walls.
Wooden docks stick out into the water, perpendicular to the wall. Tens of ships just as big as, if not bigger than, the Blackbrine sit at anchor with their sails furled. Little rowboats, dwarfed by the larger ships, sit rocking in the wake of the unyielding ocean.
Waves crash on the rocky shoreline to the left and right of the city. Balgr’s Fall sits nestled in the corner between Khaoth’s Gulf and the Juniper River, which empties into the violent ocean just south of the city. It doesn’t empty like a normal river, however. It divides into a network of small streams that encircle many islands of every size: a delta.
A couple of buildings with pointed roofs stick out above the top of the two-story wall, though I note the wall gains height as it approaches the gate. Some buildings further into the city stand one or two stories above the others. The largest, however, is easily the castle in the middle.
It stands as one solitary, but very large, rectangular tower. I use the word “rectangular” for the sake of simplicity, as its shape is much more complicated. I wonder at how some parts of it still stand as the architecture, (however grandiose it may appear), is quite intricate and difficult. The shape is not possible to describe with words.
I cannot see the front of the castle, as I stand on the Blackbrine docked at the wharf, but I can make out the back. Two enormous windows, side by side, make up almost the entire back wall of a single rectangular room that juts towards the wharf from the rest of the structure. Two titanic scarlet banners hang on either side with long golden ropes draped down their sides. They bear the insignia of a black dragon confined within a ring, with only the tips of its wings and tail making contact with the circle. I recall from a conversation with Jarl Hralfar that the keep is named Balgr’s Bastion.
Immediately I begin to formulate my battle strategies.
I don’t dare set foot off of the ship for fear that I will be recognized. In fact, no one does. In tense anxiety we wait to hear the battle begin at the front gate. We cannot make our move until every guard is looking the other way.
Within the belly of the ship we suit up in our armor and ready our weapons at our waists or on our backs. We must be ready when the battle comes, and I voice this to several soldiers who think it appropriate to complain.
“So we just wait here until we hear something start?” Nathaniel asks, shifting his hammer nervously in his sweaty hands.
“Yes and no,” I reply. “I refuse to run blind. Captain Alastair has agreed to let us know when the Jarl’s army reaches the city. The battle will begin soon after. We must be ready.”
“How do you know it will happen today?” he asks.
“Not today,” I clarify. “Tonight.”
Sure enough, a sailor enters the cargo hold with news that the Jarl’s army has reached the city. All of the soldiers and guards are being relocated to the front gate, where they will most definitely stop Hralfar dead in his tracks. That’s their plan anyway.
The sun is setting. I have urged many of the men to sleep, as the battle will take all night and probably some of the morning. This will not be fun.
When the sun has fully set and darkness settles over the dock, I allow myself onto the deck. “Careful,” Alastair warns. “Do not get caught.”
“Of course,” I reply. Without another word he walks into his cabin and I hear him bolt the door shut behind him.
I linger in the shadows of the ship to keep the moonlight from reflecting off of my armor. I watch the city flicker to life as torches light across the walls and over the bastion. A couple of torches glimmer along the dock, but they are few and far between. Our attack will be more surprising than I thought.
Nathaniel clomps onto the deck and stands next to me. He says nothing, but stares up at the stars, blinking deliberately every so often, like he’s calmly forcing tears away.
Before I can ask him what the matter is, he says, “I wonder if he’s watching.” I do not need to ask who, as I’ve wondered the same question to myself on multiple accounts. “Would he be proud?” Nathaniel continues.
“I do not know,” I reply softly. “Why would he be proud? I am not proud of myself for the things I’ve done. The people I’ve killed.”
“The people you’ve saved,” Nathaniel counters.
My words stop in my throat. I try to speak and almost choke. Finally I get out, “The Jarl said that to me. Once.”
Nathaniel nods. “I remember,” he says.
I work the lump out of my throat and continue, “He said… that he would be proud. I hope he is right.”
“Me too,” Nathaniel mutters. After a moment I hear him sniff. I look down again to see him shaking his head and wiping a tear from his crinkling face. “I want to see him again,” he says.
“We may yet,” I reply.
“How?” he asks, his shoulders sagging.
“The afterlife,” I say softly.
“You mean like what Frederick was always going on about?”
I nod.
He looks back up at the stars. “I hope it’s true,” he says. “Then we will see him when we die.”
I agree silently. There’s a long pause and Nathaniel speaks again, “Kadmus I’m afraid.”
“Of what?”
“I don’t know how I’ve survived this long,” he says. “There have been many times where I would have died had it not been for you. Once even Ullrog saved me.” He smiles at the thought but it fades quickly. “I wonder how long it will go. How long before one of us meets our match. Haven’t you wondered about that?”
I give him the slightest nod, unwilling to admit that I have entertained the thought that not all of us may return home.
“Jericho was lucky,” he continues. “It’s only a matter of time before one of us…” His voice weakens and he looks away.
“Don’t think like that,” I command. “We all came in and we’re all coming out.”
He glances at me, uncomforted by my words.
I pull him into a tight embrace. “I love you brother,” I say, “and I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I feel his head move up and down against my armored chest and he chokes softly, “Okay.”
Slowly I pull away and look him in the eye. “We’ll all come out.”
He nods and sniffs. Then, suddenly, he reaches into his pocket, saying, “Oh I almost forgot!”
“What?” I ask.
From his pocket he pulls a small object, which he hands to me. “For you,” he says.
I study the little wooden carving. It’s a statue of a man holding a hammer with the head of the weapon at his feet, the shaft coming midway up his chest. All I can utter is, “Thank you.”
Suddenly a familiar warhorn blares from across the city, on the far side. “There’s our cue,” I speak, pocketing the carving. “Come on. We’ve got a city to win.”
Subterfuge
I open the door to the lower decks of the ship and my small army begins to appear from the depths.
“Careful,” I command. “Surprise is our advantage. If we lose that, we’re done for.”
Only a couple of torches light the gateway into the city, but I’d rather not use that way. It’s too conspicuous. We may have to neutralize the guards, but I’d prefer not to do that either because I have no idea when the guards switch shifts. Even with the battle going on at the main gate, which we can all hear, they still leave a light guard posted around the city. The good news is that the only guards appear to be at the gate.
“How do you propose we go about this?” Genevieve whispers.
No, I decide. Too risky.
“That’s a lot of help,” the commander complains quietly. “You mean you have no plan?”
“You’re as much in charge as I am,” I reply. “If you have something to say, please say it.”
She shakes her head and says, “Let’s break through the back door. There aren’t very many of them. We can destroy them and move through silently!”
“Will we?” I argue. “And if one of them sounds the alarm? What then?”
A loud crash echoes from the far side of the city.
“Whatever we do, it has to be done quickly,” she urges. “And right now it looks like we have one option.”
I remember an object I had seen in the cargo hold, and I suddenly have an idea. “Someone run and get me the hooks from the cargo hold,” I command. “Bring the ropes as well. Leave the nets.”
A couple of soldiers dart down the stairs and Aela gives me a look like, “I know what you’re thinking.”
I return one that says, “Of course you do.”
“How will those help?” Genevieve asks. “I assume we’re not fishing.”
“No,” I reply. “It’s better than that.”
The soldiers reappear with the equipment and I proceed to study them in detail. There are three hooks at the end of every shaft, pointing different directions. They’ll do very nicely.
“Secure the ropes to their ends,” I command. “Get them as tight as you can. We can’t have them give way.”
Genevieve raises an eyebrow as she begins to put together what I am doing. A soldier hands me a finished harpoon and I ask, “Now who has the best arm?”
Thick clouds obscure the moon and stars, much to my delight. That will make this much easier.
A soldier by the name of David, who has been trained in javelin throwing, has volunteered his skill for the next step of my plan. He and I sneak down the ramp of the ship and onto the dock. The boards creak or clunk with every step, despite the effort I exert trying to be covert.
Dragonhammer: Volume II Page 18
