Nobody says a word. There’s pounding on the gate.
“Who gave the order…” Sythian repeats calmly, “to shut the gate?”
He looks at the captain who stands at attention. “Captain,” says the Jarl. “Was it you?”
The captain hesitates. Finally he says, “Aye, sir.”
Sythian nods as he slowly circles the petrified captain. One word permeates the air. “Why?”
The poor captain struggles to find words, but is unable to come up with anything fast enough to satisfy Sythian. The Jarl’s hand dives to his belt and emerges with a dagger that glints in the torchlight, but I see it for less than a second. I cannot watch.
A nasty gurgling noise bursts through the hall. When I next look, Sythian is cleaning his dagger on the cape of the captain, who now lies in a pool of his own blood.
“We’re going to open that gate,” I state.
“And how do you say we’re going to do that?” asks Percival.
I smirk. “Do exactly as I say.”
Silently I watch Nathaniel, James, Percival, Aela, and the six soldiers steal silently back down the stairwell and out of sight. I can only hope that the rest of the plan goes accordingly.
There is a tense minute of uncertainty. I trade several looks with Ullrog who stands next to me, concealed within the room. The soldiers talk casually. There are bangs on the gate. No sign of the others.
Until we hear a cry from the far side of the room.
“Here! They’re here! Inside!” the soldier screams.
Simultaneously every soldier begins exclaiming things like:
“How?!”
“Not possible!”
“In here?”
“Where?”
“Did you see them?!”
There’s a clang and the ring of steel on steel, which answers most of the above questions. Every soldier draws their sword, but is disoriented and unsure of the fight.
“How many are there?”
“Is it Dragonhammer?”
“Did they find a way through?”
“Fight!” thunders Sythian. “Drive them out! Kill them all!”
The soldiers scurry down the stairs and into the main entrance hall, where I watch them turn and run into the hall opposite of the front gate.
I pray silently to Khaoth that my friends will come out of this battle alive.
The sounds of battle begin from the rear of the hall. Yells of men as they fall. I hear a familiar grunt and recognize Nathaniel’s voice. Terrified, I chance a glimpse over the railing and to the fight, to catch sight of him slamming a foe’s head against the wall and then turning tail to flee down the hall.
“Raah!” Sythian snarls. “Bring them down you incompetent fools!” When his soldiers prove ineffective, he charges forward to join the fray.
My fear for my friends is redoubled, and that’s when I nod to Ullrog.
We charge out of the room and I dart down the stairs. When I reach the bottom, I look about for Ullrog as he neglected to follow me down. His immense form lands on the stone floor just in front of me, having jumped the guardrail from the floor above.
Each of us grasps one end of the vast wooden beam used to bar the gate. “Hey!” I hear. “There’s more!”
I am forced to ignore them, as the job at hand will require all the time I can give it.
Together we heave, pulling the beam upward. The weight takes me by surprise and even Ullrog takes a moment to lift his side. A soldier is nearing. My legs quiver and begin to burn. Light flashes on the sharp edge of a sword. My knuckles are white. The weapon rises only feet from me.
With a final heave we lift the beam from its hold and Ullrog throws his end to the side, allowing me to swing the enormous thing into the five soldiers that had been charging me. It isn’t slowed even the tiniest bit by their bodies. None of them get up.
A tremendous crash echoes through the hall as I release the beam, unable to hold on. It smashes against a pillar and spins, but slams the ground before it can reach the wall.
Without hesitation Ullrog and I each grab a door and pull. They swing on the hinges easily and I look onto the street to see our army standing, shocked that the door had opened seemingly of its own accord.
Breathing heavily I turn, draw my hammer and ready myself for battle.
Sythian looks in disbelief at the open gate and at me. Rage fills his face and he glances down the hall. Then he charges, but not towards us.
The second he whips around the corner, I sprint after him.
He cannot reach them, I command myself. You cannot let him.
It was part of the plan that they would run. I knew they would be followed. That was really the point, to allow Ullrog and I time to open the gate. Now I must make sure I can reach them in time to stop the enemy from killing them.
“Dragonhammer!” comes the cry. I slam the soldier in the chest, almost at the neck, and he hits the ground with a grunt. Ullrog slices an arm from a soldier and the poor man falls to the side, screaming before the orc ends his misery.
The spike on the end of the hammer impales someone in the stomach and I throw him into another soldier before bringing my hammer down on the helm of another. The arc was wide and he didn’t expect such a vertical strike. He dies instantly, and blood seeps from his dented helm onto the cold floor where he lies.
By this time our army is beginning to flood the Bastion relentlessly. Jarl Hralfar fights at their head. The night is beginning to brighten as dawn approaches, but the sky is overcast and little light makes it through to the streets.
“Should’ve known it was you,” the Jarl says, almost sarcastically. “I’m just glad to see you are alive.”
“As am I,” I reply. “But our enemies most certainly are not.” Without another word I run for the hall where I had seen Jarl Sythian chase after my friends. Ullrog follows close behind.
Like a wild beast I throw anyone in my path to the side. Ullrog takes care of the leftovers. Sythian takes a left up ahead and I follow with my blood pounding through my veins.
I leap up the staircase and follow the square spiral up several flights until I see Sythian dart around the corner.
A sword swings at me as I round the corner, and I am barely able to duck beneath the perilous blow before reaching out with a strike of my own.
Sythian parries the swipe and we trade blows for only seconds. I hear Ullrog’s pounding steps on the stairs, which is when Sythian decides that a fight may not be the best idea.
He pulls a dagger as I step forward and swing. After dodging the blow, he swipes quickly at my face with the blade. Unable to bring my hammer up fast enough, I throw my weight backward with all of my might.
I stumble back as Ullrog bounds through the arch and into the hall. After regaining my balance, I touch the bridge of my nose gingerly and my fingers come away with blood on their tips.
“You okay?” Ullrog rumbles.
“Fine,” I reply. “He nicked me. I’ll kill him for it.”
With even more determination, we resume our chase.
Sythian leads us to the left and up a large flight of stairs; fighting breaks out as we come upon my friends.
They appear to have run into a large group of soldiers who had been hiding out on the upper levels. Percival looks behind just as Sythian emerges on the stairs, and reacts fast enough to knock aside a stab that would have killed Nathaniel. He and Sythian trade a few blows, but before the enemy Jarl can land a fatal strike, Aela uses both her swords to direct his attention to her. Soldiers are following Ullrog and me up the stairs, of which army I do not know.
Sythian gives Aela a look as their blades lock. His eyes narrow and he mouths something to himself, but before he can say anything, he is forced away from her by my monstrous hammer.
Somehow he dodges the blow. Enemy soldiers rise from the stairs, and I find myself being backed into a room with all of my friends.
“Good to see you’re alive,” I mutter to Percival as he bashes a soldier with his
shield.
“You as well,” he replies.
“You’ve certainly got timing,” James grunts, stabbing his blade through the gut of a soldier. Aela only gives me a nod.
I do not have time to study the room in which we have been cornered, but I note the things that I may find useful in the near future. Almost the entire back wall is a massive stained-glass window. Pillars, a few paces from the walls to our left and right, support the moderately high ceiling. The room is mostly empty, but for some bookshelves that line the walls behind the pillars.
Sythian enters the room with several more of his soldiers, and my attention snaps to him instantly. He leers and starts towards me with a look that says, “You will die, Dragonhammer.”
I reply with a powerful swing that he is forced to dodge rather than block. I deflect his return easily and aim to swipe his feet out from under him, but he steps back to avoid my hammer. When he stabs I knock his blade to the side. As he re-centers his weapon, I knock it harder to the other side. With my hammer low next to his sword, I step forward and kick him squarely in the chest with the flat of my foot. The force of the blow throws him off balance and he takes a few steps back, but he cannot ready himself for the final blow.
My hammer connects with his right side and throws his hip to the wall with the rest of his body trailing after.
He hits the wall with a crack and doesn’t get up.
“Well done,” Percival says softly. I only nod. This is not over.
I smash in the shoulder of an oncoming enemy and throw him to the side. Percival absorbs a blow on his shield as Aela saves him from a blow to the back. Ullrog’s blade sticks into the armor of one of them, and instead of shaking the body loose, he begins using it like an enormous grisly mace. James hides behind his shield for a series of blows before striking out suddenly and ending the life of his attacker. One of my throwing knives juts from the throat of an assailant James wouldn’t have seen in time.
As my hammer splits another helm I suddenly think, Where is Nathaniel?
“STOP!” roars a voice from the back of the room.
I look to the back as the fighting comes to a standstill. There I see Jarl Sythian holding a knife to the neck of my brother.
Sythian is in bad shape. It’s a wonder he was able to move that far, let alone stand and hold a dagger. Blood trickles from his nose and a split on his lip, and he leans heavily to the left. His hair is ragged and his forehead is beaded with sweat. His brown bloodshot eyes pierce me with words before he says them.
“Drop your weapons. Or he dies.”
I’m left standing in shock. My grip loosens on my hammer, but immediately tightens. What are you doing? I ask myself.
Everyone in the room stares at me. I can hear the continued fighting downstairs, but I will not be able to stall sufficient time for them to reach us. Sythian is desperate to win this and he is cunning. He will not allow me to stall for that long.
He is too far away to engage. By the time I get there he will have had plenty of time to end the life of one of the people I hold most dear.
Tentatively I reach for a throwing knife.
“NO!” bellows the fraught Jarl. “Drop them! Now!”
There’s a sharp intake of breath from Nathaniel and I realize that Sythian has two daggers. One is pressed to my brother’s throat, and the other is pointed at the small of his back.
“You will release him if I do?” I ask. “You take me and let him live?”
Sythian nods slowly. “Don’t do it,” Nathaniel whispers.
My nose twitches as I run over countless plans in my head. In each of them Nathaniel dies. I am left with one option.
With a clang my hammer hits the ground and lies close to my brother’s similar weapon. Reluctantly my friends follow suit, including Ullrog. The orc carefully sets his enormous blade down on the stone floor.
“The knives too,” Sythian growls.
With a face of iron I remove the remaining three knives from my belt and drop them. Nathaniel’s hand creeps to his side where I see the hilt of the dagger I had made for him several months earlier. It is splattered with droplets of blood.
“Don’t move!” Sythian barks, pressing the knife against my brother’s neck. Nathaniel gasps and his arms go limp.
“It’s okay,” I say to him softly.
“Is it?” Sythian hisses.
“Let him go,” I dictate. “You said you would.”
The Jarl points at me with his head. “Take him,” he says.
A soldier emerges on either side of me and each of them grasps an arm. Angrily I allow them to hold my arms behind my back and put me on my knees.
“Do you know my name, Dragonhammer?” asks the Jarl.
I nod once.
“Good. I want you to know who finally defeated you.”
“Let him go,” I repeat.
“Or what?”
I look up at him in disgusted disbelief. He leers and says, “Do not think that everyone is as honest as you, Dragonhammer.”
Rage begins to boil within me. “Let him go,” I repeat.
“I have power over you now. There is nothing you can do. Tell me, how does that feel?”
I begin to shake with wrath. “You have nowhere to go,” I snarl. “Jarl Hralfar will be upon you within minutes.”
Sythian looks away from me and to one of his soldiers. “We move now,” he says. “If we’re fast we can get out through the dungeons and into the harbor.”
My mind races. I can come up with nothing. So I say weakly, “Let him go.”
Sythian’s mouth turns upwards into an enormous grin. There’s blood on his teeth and I can’t imagine what his breath must possibly smell like. “Let him go,” the Jarl repeats. “That’s all the mighty Dragonhammer can muster?”
With every word my blood roils harder and faster.
Sythian looks me sternly in the face. With contempt in his eye he shoves his shoulder forward and I hear the dagger enter Nathaniel’s back.
My brother gasps. His eyes widen and he blinks deliberately. Then he looks at me and I see only sorrow on his dying face. The dagger scrapes as it exits his body and Nathaniel gasps again. As I look into my brother’s eyes for the last time, the light in them dies and he begins to sag. Sythian shoves him forward and Nathaniel’s empty body falls through the air in slow-motion. He bounces when he hits the ground. Then he lies still.
The anger in me is gone. In its stead is despair.
I see Nathaniel. He is younger. He holds a bow and nocks an arrow carefully. As I creep up on him to see what he is stalking, he suddenly raises the bow and takes the shot. “I got it,” he says in disbelief. “I got it!” he repeats, almost convincing himself that he actually made the shot. Then he begins dancing, scaring off every other creature in the vicinity.
My mind becomes chaos of thought. Memories of every kind flood my mind and play themselves without any regard to the others.
I don’t think you’ve done any work before that’s this good!
I was aiming at the buck!
Love ya, bro.
In every battle there is someone that does not return. What if that someone is me next time?
My eyes snap to the dagger that lies on his belt. His name is carved into the side and I read it carefully. Nathaniel.
My father enters my mind. I see him on his deathbed and in his grave. My father and my brother. How many more?
I love you brother. And I won’t let anything happen to you.
“We have to move,” Sythian commands. “Take him.”
The despair that filled me suddenly transforms. The wrath I had felt redoubles and I feel a surge of pure fury like fire. With explosive power I stand and roar at Sythian.
Sythian is startled by the noise emanating from me. Without realizing what I am doing, I throw the soldiers from me and they each land on their backs further from me than I thought possible.
“Kill him!” Sythian screams. “Kill him now!”
I duck to avoid
a swipe and punch the soldier in the face, breaking his nose instantly. With a kick in the chest he’s on the ground and out.
I spin and grab the ankle of another before he can swing, and he finds himself on his back with his sword in my hand. I impale the next soldier with the blade and leave the sword in his body with the tip sticking from his back.
Then I pick up my hammer. The next soldier I see is cracked in the side of the head and thrown. In my left hand I raise my brother’s hammer.
I become a whirlwind of death. Nobody stands against me for more than a second. I needn’t worry about blocking, as every one of them dies beneath one of my hammers before he has a chance to bring his sword down.
Enemy soldiers fly to the sides, upward, downward, forward, and backward. My rage burns within me and my hammers, I realize, are my tools of refinement, through which I use the fire that forges my power.
Breathing hard, I suddenly stop. Tens of soldiers lie in every nook and cranny of the room. Calming, I turn towards the window and see Jarl Sythian still standing in a mixture of amazement and terror. Slowly I straighten and face him with a hammer in each hand. Lamely he picks up his sword. Then I charge.
He lacks the strength to block. Normally I would take mercy on such a soldier and let him live. Not this time.
Knowing that he won’t be able to withstand another hit, he throws himself towards the window as I whirl my hammers towards his damaged body. The window shatters.
Angrily I pound my hammers into the spot where he had been standing, placing hairline cracks in the stone. I look out the window and, despite the anger blurring my vision, see him clinging to the enormous red banner next to the window. He is climbing down and begins to swing. I reach for a knife but only grab open air. In frenzy I run to grab one from the ground, but by the time I return to the window, he is gone.
Unable to contain it, I bellow at the gaping hole in the window and hurl my knife into the sky. I feel a hand on my shoulder and bat it away, scowling at my comforter furiously. Aela stands holding her hand, offended.
My face softens. My anger ebbs. I glance at the unmoving body of my brother, lying on the stone. Get up, I beg silently. Please. He doesn’t respond. My legs give and I collapse to my knees, dropping both of my weapons. I look up at Aela as she steps forward and gently cradles my head against her midriff. My shoulders shake. Then I begin to sob.
Dragonhammer: Volume II Page 20
