Dragonhammer: Volume I

by Conner McCall

  I nod slowly in understanding.

  “There is no option,” says Kjunn. “We must retake that city.”

  “Why wasn’t it better guarded?” I inquire.

  Kjunn answers, slightly agitated, “Because we did not expect an attack of such strength, and our soldiers are on the front in Watervale, to the west. You do know where that is, correct?”

  I bob my head sarcastically.

  “So I called you here to see what kind of army you have with you, and to plan the retake of your city. Terrace is well guarded, and it will not be easy to retake.”

  “I never thought I’d have to plan the destruction of my own main gate,” mutters Hralfar as he leans over the map Kjunn brings out of a drawer. Upon closer inspection, I find that it’s a map of Terrace, and a highly detailed one at that.

  “Can your survivors fight?”

  “Yes,” Hralfar responds. “At least most of them can and will.”

  “Are they all soldiers?” Kjunn further interrogates.

  “No,” answers Hralfar with no hesitation. “Some of them are, but many are simple businessmen. Some have not been trained how to swing a sword.”

  Kjunn nods. “We’ll have to work with it. Will they fight for their city?”

  “To the end.”

  “Perfect. Now how do we get through the gate? By the time we get there, they will have had plenty of time to rebuild and reinforce the gate, and then some.”

  “I hate to suggest it on my own city,” says the Jarl, “but I’ve always favored the catapult. Take down the wall, and we have a clear shot inside.”

  “Or they’ll have a clear shot at you,” argues Kjunn. “Who knows how many trolls they’ve got? They’ll smash through men like a hammer on an ant.”

  “What do you suggest, then?” Hralfar says, slightly offended. “We can’t get in without destroying the gate!”

  Kjunn makes to answer, but I interrupt, “Oh can’t we?” Both look my direction. “We can get in the same way we got out. Through the waste tunnels of the Keep.”

  They ponder the idea. “Why didn’t I think of that…?” Hralfar whispers to himself.

  “Explain,” says Kjunn. “What’s the plan after you manage to get an entire army inside Nringnar’s Deep?”

  “We can take the city by night. While all the guards are sleeping, we simply take everything. Then, when they wake in the morning, we have our swords pointed at their throats.”

  “It could work,” says Hralfar. “But an entire army won’t fit into the Keep without being detected. The alarm will be raised and they’ll be forced to siege the Keep. That defeats the purpose of attacking from the other side. Which is surprise, correct?”

  “Well, we’ll attack from the front,” I retaliate.

  They stare at me like I’m an idiot. “What?”

  “While some of us are inside the Keep, we kill the guards and take it over and bar the gate. We keep the numbers small enough to avoid detection, but large enough to overcome any resistance we will meet. The rest of the army is waiting at the front gate. While the Tygnar army is busy there, we can attack from the Keep. While we distract from the back, you have time to break down the gate and get in. Then we have them caught between the hammer and the anvil.”

  Hralfar smiles at me and nods enthusiastically. “See, that’s why I brought you up here.”

  “I’m beginning to see why you like this young man,” Kjunn says quietly. He studies me for a moment and says, “Can you promise me you won’t be detected in the Keep?”

  “No. But even if we are, it splits their army. Half towards the front gate and half seigeing their own Keep.”

  Hralfar keeps nodding with a small smile. “I’m keeping you,” he says quietly.

  Kjunn agrees. “Or, alternatively, you can disguise yourselves as their soldiers and open the gate for us right from under their nose. Just let us in during the night when nobody is awake.”

  Hralfar says, “That may not be so easy. We can’t hide an army on their doorstep. They will know and they will not let simply anyone open the gate, even if you do kill the guards. Killing a Tygnar soldier would blow your cover.”

  “Then let’s compromise,” I suggest. “We go with my plan, but in the case you cannot break through the gate, I will open it for you from the inside.”

  “Sounds good to me,” says Hralfar. “You then will lead the attack from the inside?”

  “I never said that.”

  Hralfar raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push the subject. “I will lead the attack on the gate. It should take us roughly the same amount of time to get there, but we will need some sort of signal that you are in position for attack, and another that you have taken the Keep.”

  “Let’s light the signal fire,” Kjunn advocates. “It’s never lit anymore, but always is stocked with wood and oil. As soon as the Keep is yours, light the fire.”

  “We will need a signal,” I point out, “to know when to attack. It would be a pity if we got ahead of ourselves and took the keep before it was time. They’d rout us out before you had time to get the gate down.”

  “I see what you mean,” Jarl Hralfar responds, “but that is easily solved. You said you will be in the waste tunnels under the keep?” He waits for my acknowledgement before continuing, “The tunnels are a network underneath the city. There’s a similar entrance by the gate on the cliff, barred with an iron grate. We cannot reach it, but the warhorn can.”

  “So we will be able to hear the warhorn when you attack?” I clarify.

  “Yes,” he responds. “And quite clearly, I should think.”

  “Good. As soon as we hear their horn, we will infiltrate the Keep.”

  “Likewise,” says Hralfar, “We will need to know that you have reached your position under the keep before we begin our attack.”

  “A dove,” Kjunn answers. “I have a few that are trained to carry messages or fly patterns. Take one and release it from the top of Fort Greymane.”

  I nod. “Sounds easy enough.”

  “Just be sure you are facing the direction you want him to go. I assure you he will find the regiment at the front of the city.”

  “Noted,” I reply. “So I will release the dove to let you know we have obtained our position, you will blow the horn when it is time to attack, and we will light the signal fire when we have taken the keep.”

  “You’re more intelligent than you let on,” says Kjunn, looking at me while Hralfar nods slightly. “And I agree fully with the tactics that have been suggested here. How, then, will we function once we are inside Terrace?”

  Hralfar looks to me. “Any ideas?”

  “I know nothing of battle formations, procedures, or tactics,” I say. “I’m only a blacksmith.”

  “Well, you’re a smart one,” he counters. “You’re sure you know nothing?”

  “I know how to make a sword, but I have no idea how to move soldiers in a battlefield.”

  “Very well, then,” says Hralfar. “I will let you know what we manage to come up with. If you wish to, you are dismissed. I will speak with you later this evening, after I talk to our troops.”

  I bow my head respectfully to both Jarls and walk out.

  People give me odd looks as I find my way through Stormguard to the main gate and show myself out

  The sun is still shining, though it is drooping lower and lower in the sky. I take my time walking down the many steps to the barracks where I am staying.

  As soon as I walk in the door, I resume the position I had been in before the Jarl came in. I sit on my bed and eat a small dinner. Then I pick up my warhammer.

  Percival approaches me and sits on the bed next to me. He eyes my hammer for a moment, and then he speaks. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Really.”

  I stare at my hammer.

  He throws his arm around me and hugs me around the shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

  I lose my composure. Tears begin to fall from my eyes and I hug him back. “Why, Percival?” I ask. “W
hy’d he have to go…?”

  “I don’t know, Kadmus,” he replies. “I don’t know.” He gives me a minute and pats me on the back. “How are Gunther and Nathaniel doing?”

  “Nathaniel’s taking it hard,” I say. “He’s like me. Gunther’s doing okay. He knew it was going to happen, I think… I think he prepared himself for it so that he wouldn’t break down when his best friend said he was sorry…”

  Percival smiles and laughs quietly. “Sometimes it’s a good thing to break down,” he replies. “Everyone needs to once in a while.”

  I nod. “Well, thanks.”

  “You seemed like you needed something.”

  “I do,” I say quietly.

  “Let’s go get some food,” he suggests. “Maybe a cinnamon roll or something.”

  “Okay,” I nod, wiping my nose. “Let’s.”

  “Wanna go get James and Jericho?”

  I nod again.

  Jericho is close by, as he has recovered from his injuries. He has a nasty scar on the back of his left arm and across the right side of his face, crossing his cheekbone and his brow. His eye miraculously escaped the blow. He joins us with an enthusiastic nod.

  James is upstairs in a similar room with his father. He responds quickly to Percival’s suggestion and soon we are walking out the door and into the street. There’s still some daylight left.

  We find a small bakery. I reach into my pocket to pull out some coins, but Percival says, “No. I got it.” I don’t argue, mostly because I’m not in the mood. He does, however, accept a little change from James and Jericho. Then we eat our cinnamon rolls as we walk back to the barracks.

  “So what did the doctors say?” I ask James. In Terrace they had merely given him a quick glance and then tied the iron brace to his arm to prevent any further injury he might cause to himself. Here, he was given a diagnosis and real treatment.

  “It’s a small fracture. Just a crack in the bones in my forearm. Not too bad, except that I have to wear this stupid thing on my arm.”

  “Well, you had to stand up to a troll,” Percival mutters. Only I hear him.

  “Did they say when you would be fully healed?” I ask.

  “They said it would take about at least four to six weeks for the fracture to heal. Then I can take off this thing.”

  I can see Jericho doing the math in his head. “So you can fight in a month?” he says.

  “Well,” he continues, “I could. But it would hurt and the possibility of it fracturing again, or breaking, is high. So it will probably be another week or two after that.”

  “And you are planning on fighting with us?” says Percival.

  “You’re joining too?” I question him, slightly surprised.

  “Well, I can’t let you go see the world by yourself, now can I?” he says with a smile.

  “Of course,” James answers. “As soon as I can, I’ll join you. In fact, if they will let me, I’ll join and follow you guys around for support if that’s okay. Then fight when I can.”

  “I will too,” says Jericho. “You can’t leave me all alone at home.”

  I nod. “We’ve got each others’ backs, okay? All four of us. We’ll all go in, and we’ll all come out.”

  They agree.

  Two girls passing by notice James’s sling and Jericho’s scars. One of them raises her eyebrows and the other smiles slightly. They’re both pretty.

  “Where’d you get that?” one of them asks, referring to James’s sling.

  He stops. “Got in a fight with a troll,” he brags. “Got the best of me, but I was too tough to bring down completely.”

  “Only because he was there to drag you out,” mutters Percival, pointing to me.

  “You helped,” I defend.

  “Yeah. After you stalled the big brute by knifing him.”

  I have nothing to say. One of the girls giggles and says, “Wow.” James gives Percival a dirty look.

  “What about you?” the other girl asks Jericho.

  “Just some battle scars. I’m not the best swordsman, so he nicked me a few times.”

  “Did you get him?” they push.

  “Well, I’m standing here now.” One of the girls giggles and the other looks at me shyly. I look away, completely uninterested.

  “Come on,” Percival says, grabbing Jericho by the collar and pulling him down the street.

  We get back to the barracks before it gets dark.

  “Come on,” says James as we walk in the door. “You’ve got to have a little fun.”

  Gunther overhears. “What happened?”

  James answers before anyone else can. “These two girls were flirting with us, but Kadmus and Percival basically told us that we had to focus and leave them.”

  Gunther raises an eyebrow at me. “You know, I did tell you to get a girl.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “I’m not ready for one yet.”

  “Fair enough,” he says. James and Jericho go back to their beds. Percival stays for another moment before retiring to bed.

  “Thanks,” I tell him.

  “It’s nothing,” he replies. “Just tell me if you need something, alright?”

  I nod. “Will do.”

  Gunther is still sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed. Curious, I question, “Will you join with me?”

  “No,” he says. Before I can ask why, he reasons, “I am engaged, Kadmus. There’s a girl at home waiting for me. What a pity it would be if I never returned to her. Our own father is already a casualty, and we can’t lose all the good blacksmiths in the war.”

  I acknowledge his reasons. “I understand,” I say simply.

  Nathaniel, his eyes a little puffy and his cheeks flushed red, sits up on the bed next to mine. “I’ll join,” he says. Gunther makes to object, but Nathaniel continues, “If Kadmus can, then I can. Father gave his life for this cause and he told me to keep fighting and do as my heart directed. Well, right now it’s directing me to fight. So fight I will.”

  I agree silently. “I will be there with you, Nathaniel.” He thanks me with a nod and lies back down.

  Then I sit down on my bed and pick up my hammer to wait for Jarl Hralfar.

  He doesn’t disappoint. Minutes after sundown he enters the barracks and summons everyone’s attention. “Soldiers,” he begins. “Tomorrow morning we leave Kera for Terrace to retake the city. Make sure you have everything ready to leave tonight, because we will not wait. Every second we spend here is another second Tygnar spends calling reinforcements or fortifying the walls of our city! Be sure to let those on the second floor aware. Get some sleep. Tomorrow we march.”

  He walks a little ways into the room, but the eyes don’t come off of him. “Go on, then!” he says. Immediately the men begin to pack and ready themselves for bed. The room is filled with the usual quiet hubbub.

  He makes his way towards me, shaking his head. I stand to talk with him.

  “I’ve talked to the other soldiers,” he says. “And I’ve set apart a small number of the most elite soldiers to go with you into the tunnels.”

  “Good,” I say. “And a leader as well?”

  “Yes.” I sag in relief until I realize he’s talking about me.

  “What?” I object. “I can’t lead! I don’t know how to lead a team of oxen let alone men!”

  “You’ll learn quickly,” says the Jarl.

  “I said I didn’t want to be a captain.”

  “You’re not.” I make to say something else, but he cuts me off. “Don’t worry. I’ve appointed someone to help you. An assistant, if you will.”

  “Good. You know my friends will want to come with me.”

  “Do they know the risks?”

  “They will. And they will still want to come.”

  “Very well,” he says. “If it is their wish.”

  “Good,” I repeat.

  “Get some sleep,” he says, turning away. “We march for Terrace in the morning.”

  March for Terrace

  Once again, w
e are walking. We would use horses, but lack the sufficient numbers as most of them are in the west. So we are walking.

  Each of us wears issued armor: a shirt of chainmail underneath a steel breastplate, with a plain helmet, greaves, and gauntlets. Most hold a sword at their waist and a shield on their back. Jericho carries his hand axe instead of a sword. I carry only my hammer, and Nathaniel carries his. Gunther carries a broadsword similar to Father’s. He agreed that he would fight in the retake of Terrace, but afterward would stay home for his girl.

  As I suspected, all six of them wanted to accompany me through the tunnels into the Keep. I am glad to have their support.

  As we leave the city, the girls we had seen the night before wave to us, wishing us luck. I ignore them, but James and Jericho acknowledge and thank them.

  Our first camp is a few hours after we cross Dragongate Bridge. The waterfall at the back of the Living Vale captures my attention for the entire time it is visible, because I know at the top my fathers lies safe in his grave. I find myself thankful the Jarl picked such a spot.

  It’s at this first spot that the Jarl introduces me to Commander Magnus.

  “Commander!” he calls. Magnus responds and strides to us. He’s of a slight build and not very tall, wearing decorated steel armor plates all over his body, including a helmet with a purple plume. The helm covers his face but for the eyes and mouth, showing somewhat larger lips and a slender chin. A brown cape bearing Gilgal’s insignia billows behind him. At his waist hangs an enormous broadsword.

  “This is Kadmus Armstrong,” says the Jarl, gesturing. “He’s the young man I’ve been telling you all about.”

  He nods, but says nothing. The Jarl, unperturbed, continues, “Kadmus, this is Commander Genevieve Magnus.”

  That’s an odd name, I think. Then the commander removes his helmet, and I see that it is most definitely not a ‘him.’

  Her smooth skin and youthful eyes reveal her as very young. Her hair is reddish brown and tied back into a ponytail, her face is slender, and her nose is small.

  “A pleasure,” she says as she looks me up and down, tucking her helmet under her arm. Her voice is melodious and matches her pretty face. She holds out her metal-encased hand for me to shake, and I take it.