Dragonhammer: Volume I

by Conner McCall

  “The pleasure is mine.”

  “I have heard of you,” she says. “The Jarl has told me all of your incredible feats. But I will have you know that I am your commander, and I will not take orders from a lucky blacksmith.”

  “Of course,” I say with a sarcastic smile. “May I ask how you became a commander at such a young age and-”

  “And as a woman?” she snaps.

  “Yes.” I say it matter-of-factly, like I’m not sorry to bring it up.

  “That’s none of your concern,” she says. “Probably the same way you’re getting up now.”

  “So, surviving on luck?” I retaliate.

  “No,” she answers. “Just surviving.” She turns and walks away.

  “She’s a joy,” I mutter sarcastically to the Jarl.

  He suppresses a laugh. “Oh, that’s a word for it!” he manages.

  Every night, we train. Veterans teach and coach newer recruits around campfires. They’re sparring with sticks or with swords if they’re more careless. I am challenged a few times, though never by my friends. I refuse to participate. I know if I do, I will do much more damage than I mean with my hammer.

  So I disappear into the forest.

  Why? the voice inside me burns. Why? I’m asking myself this for a couple of reasons. First of all: Why did Father have to die!? What did he do to deserve death? All he did was love his family and protect them. Does that mean he had to die? It’s my fault…

  No it’s not, another part of me says. You know it’s not.

  But that arrow was aimed at me!

  It was his decision to save you.

  …Why did I need saving?

  Because Tygnar was attacking. Lucius Swordbreaker ordered that attack that resulted in the death of your father.

  I must avenge him.

  Secondly, I wonder: Why did they attack? Why is this war happening? What did we do to offend them, to bring them to war against us?

  I cannot answer these questions. I stop walking, and turn to make sure I can still hear the swords and see the firelight. Then I begin to train myself.

  I take my hammer from my back and look at the head. Then I swing at the nearest tree.

  The impact jars my hand. Come on. You must be stronger than that. I swing again, though I’m not sure exactly what my goal is. As I twirl and smash the bough of a nearby tree, I look again at the head of my hammer. Then my eyes narrow and I fight.

  Every tree becomes a Tygnar soldier, a pawn of Lucius Swordbreaker. I twist among them, snapping branches, shaving bark.

  They are evil, I reason. That’s why.

  I fling my hammer around my back, slamming it into a tree on the way around, and use the momentum to crack another bough of the one opposite. Images of fire and steel are racing around me. Men dying.

  They desire only power. They want to destroy all who oppress them. They want to rule all, own all, destroy all. How many fathers have died? How many more will die before the evil conquers or is conquered?

  Blind rage boils in my blood. Despite the anger and adrenaline flowing through me, I find my muscles all to be relaxed. They must be to wreak destruction upon my enemies.

  An involuntary yell escapes my mouth and I smash a tree in two.

  It’s a small one; only a few inches in diameter. Half of it lies, still connected by stringy still-living wood remnants to its other half, reaching to the ground.

  As I stare, a voice says behind me, “Kadmus?” I turn to see the visitor. It’s Percival, standing only ten feet away. “You okay?” he says.

  I wait a moment, studying the broken tree. “Yes,” I whisper. “I’m fine.”

  The next day the Vale and its beautiful waterfall go out of sight. I make a silent promise to my father that I will visit him every time I pass the Vale. Then I turn forward. We march for Terrace.

  We follow the river north, downriver. On the fourth day we come to the hidden path in the trees that leads to Fort Greymane.

  “Here,” says Jarl Hralfar. The legion stops. “This is where we part,” he says to me. Then he shouts to the soldiers, “Those of you who have been appointed to go with Armstrong and Commander Magnus will travel to the left. They will lead you. All others will travel to the right, where we will confront the main gate.”

  Some of the soldiers seem confused, but we split the legion successfully. I and Commander Magnus, along with Percival, Jericho, and Nathaniel, stand at the head of one hundred and fifty men.

  “I can’t yet fight,” says James. “I’ll go with the others to the gate and stay at the back. I’ll see you in a few days, okay?”

  “Yes,” I agree. “I’ll see you later.” I shake his good hand, and then he disappears into the thousand men that will travel to the main gate.

  Jarl Hralfar walks towards us. “This is where we part.”

  “I will listen for the horn,” I say. Commander Magnus gives me a dirty look.

  “I will watch for the fire,” replies Jarl Hralfar with a slight smile. “Remember the dove.” I look back, where a white dove sits unhappily in a medium black cage.

  “We will be there,” Magnus butts in. “We will take the Keep.”

  “I trust that you will,” responds the Jarl. “Remember. We will attack under cover of night. I suggest you do the same. Until then.” Then he walks away, leading his army further down the main road to the main gate of Terrace.

  Magnus looks at me disgustedly. “I am the commander, not you,” she says.

  “The Jarl gave me authority here as well. My word means just as much as yours.”

  “Well the Jarl’s not here, is he?!” she exclaims, gesturing to the mountain pass with her arms. “You are going to do as I say, when I say to do it.”

  “Oh, we’ll see about that,” I mutter. I was unaware that she could hear.

  “What did you say?” she seethes.

  I merely look at her mockingly. She moves to slap me across the face with the back of her hand, but I catch it in an iron grip before it reaches me. Then I say, “Oh. We’ll see about that.”

  It takes her a couple of tries to wrench her hand from my grip. I let her get away. She only gives me a death stare and then shouts to the army, “Move out!”

  “You’re a real charmer,” says Jericho quietly.

  “Tell that to her,” I reply just as softly. Percival only chuckles.

  She refuses to even look at me for the next two days.

  On the third, we approach the location of Fort Greymane.

  I approach her. “It may be swarming with enemy soldiers,” I warn. “They will have followed us into the tunnels.”

  “Do you not think I may have already thought of that?” She looks at me with contempt.

  “And your plan is?” I push.

  “Why do you care? I didn’t think you were going to follow my orders anyway.”

  “As true as that is, I still want to know what your plan is so I can explain to the Jarl what exactly was going through your head when you died.”

  She rolls her eyes and stares at me like I’m a moron, most likely because she has no comeback.

  “We need to be discreet,” I say. “If they raise the alarm, our cover is blown and the army inside will be expecting us when we try to get inside.”

  “So what do you suggest?”

  “Exactly what the Jarl said. Wait for cover of night. We can try to sneak in and take out the guards before moving in our main force.”

  “Or we can wait until night, sneak past the guards, and kill them once we are inside.”

  “That’s what I just said.”

  “It was my idea.”

  I take a deep breath. “Let’s go with it.”

  She smiles in the victory I gave her. “Good. We wait until nightfall.”

  Then she turns to the army and starts to spread the word. We wait until nightfall, and then send scouts and wait for the signal to proceed.

  I turn to Percival and pretend to wring her neck, breathing deeply.

  “You’re
doing better than I would,” Jericho says. “Or James.”

  Luckily we don’t have to wait long until nightfall; it’s only about an hour or so. At that time, Magnus comes to me and says, “I’m moving out with several men. We’re moving in the trees to the left. I’ll give you a signal when the Fort is clear.”

  I nod. “Good.”

  Then she moves out with her ‘several men.’

  We wait, without building fires. We huddle in blankets and bedrolls, as the high altitude night quickly becomes cold. Some of us eat a little something. This may be our last chance before we enter the Keep and begin to battle.

  After only a few minutes, Magnus appears out of the darkness bearing a torch. “The fort is taken,” she says.

  The small army rises and we get into view of Fort Greymane. Torches line its wall, making its entire shape visible in the moonless night.

  There is a yell. Somebody on the wall turns our way. Then a man only a few rows behind me falls dead.

  We panic. “I thought you said the fort was taken!” I growl angrily.

  “It was!”

  “With how many men?!”

  She doesn’t answer.

  “That’s what I thought,” I mutter. “Ready!” I shout, rallying the forces. “Form ranks!” The men form into lines behind me. “CHARGE!”

  Our line has nobody to cut down. Still we charge, up to the wall of the Fort and into the open archway. Then there are guards to fight.

  I’m the first one in. I slam one guard across the room and charge further into the Fort, running for the second door on the right. Nobody stands against the might of my hammer. Percival, Jericho, Gunther, and Nathaniel stay close behind me.

  In the door, I sprint down the stairs and incapacitate the three guards I see within. Quickly I open the heavy door that leads into the tunnels. I see no one.

  I take a deep breath and close it, shutting myself in the fort. “Do not let anyone in or out of this door,” I command some of the men that have followed me down. “No one leaves. You understand?”

  “Yes, sir!” they obey. Then they make a formation in the center of the room. One of them hides to the side of the archway that leads back up. I and my friends dart back up to the battle.

  There’s really not much of a battle left. The last few guards have been killed or disarmed and bound. I find Magnus in the center entrance room.

  “What the dingflies was that about?” I rage.

  She raises an eyebrow. “I told you it would work.”

  I’m dumbfounded. “What?”

  “The only thing I checked when I came up here was that there were actually people in it. I knew a frontal assault would work.”

  Now I’m more than dumbfounded. I’m simply fuming. “So you jeopardized the stability of the entire operation, just to prove that your tactic would work?!”

  “More or less.”

  “Calm down,” says Percival, resting his hand on my shoulder. “She’s not worth it.”

  I take a few deep breaths. “I know,” I reply. “But from now on, I’m leading.”

  THe Retake of Terrace

  I don’t allow Genevieve to even touch the dove’s cage. Quietly I open the door and grasp the bird with both hands and it coos at me in submission. I turn in the general direction of Terrace and point the bird the same direction. Then I release it skyward.

  It flaps off and quickly goes out of sight in the black night.

  “I hope it works,” I mutter.

  Then we’re in the tunnels. Genevieve, of course, has refused to let me lead by myself, and so sneaks next to me. Running would be louder than any of us want, and so we sneak quietly through the tunnels to the grate that leads into the dungeons of the Keep.

  “Hold,” I whisper. Even at such a low volume, the breath echoes throughout the tunnels. Our force halts. Then we wait, but not for long.

  A low bellow sounds clearly throughout the tunnels.

  “There’s the horn,” breathes Jericho. “We’re right on time.”

  The metal grates have been padlocked shut again, but we merely use the keys we had taken from one of the soldiers in Fort Greymane. The metal grates are loud as they open. A guard comes around the corner, but one of our archers gets him right as he comes into sight. It was for this reason we kept archers at the front.

  “Just as I planned,” says Genevieve. “We split into groups of ten and kill anyone on sight. Everyone follow your route, and do not stray from it. Move out.”

  I do have to give her the credit for this part of the plan. Every group of ten has an assigned route through the Keep to effectively remove all resistance in the shortest span of time possible, and also to help avoid detection. Several small armies are much harder to detect than one large army.

  The warhorn bellows again as we separate into our groups.

  Jericho, Percival, Nathaniel, Gunther, and five others join me. We run up the stairs and into the main hall with several other groups, our archers taking out the guards before they can raise the alarm. Then we split from them and make our way through a hallway and up the tower stairs. Other groups will be scouring the lower levels for any Tygnar forces. Our particular group is supposed to take over the right wing wall.

  We open the door to the wall quietly. The nearest guard looks suspiciously and comes near to investigate. As soon as he enters the room, we pull him to the side and one of the soldiers kills him.

  Another guard hears the struggle and says, “Who goes?!”

  I make eye contact with the archer and motion towards his bow. He nods.

  Not another second passes before he jumps out and shoots the guard. We pile out of the tower and onto the wall, destroying anyone to stand before us. Our archers are a tremendous help in that they can kill someone from a distance before they raise the alarm.

  There are surprisingly few men on the wall. However, within the armory on the wall, there’s quite a different story.

  We barge in and look for anyone who would oppose us. They stand everywhere. The armory is full of men, but I don’t stop to think about why.

  While they’re frozen in shock I smash one into another. Then they charge us.

  I hit one to the side, denting his armor and probably crushing his ribs. I hit the next one’s shoulder. He yells as he falls to the ground and there’s a sick crack. Jericho puts him out of his misery.

  One of them charges me from the side. I crouch down and block his stroke, and then catch him with my hammer and throw him over a nearby rack of shields. I turn and watch one of my men die, slashed across the back from an opponent behind him.

  I remember the pines. The broken tree. The waterfall. The grave of my father.

  With a roar I pound in the helm of another enemy and knock the legs out from underneath another, most likely breaking one or more of his bones. Percival finishes him.

  I block two strokes from two different enemies, and then whirl my hammer in the air, catching both heads and flooring them instantly. Nathaniel blocks a blow and knocks the wind out of one soldier, and then ends it by slamming him in the back.

  A couple of soldiers barge out of the door. “They’re going to raise the alarm!” I shout. “Bring them down!”

  I charge out the door with one of the archers. I kill one and the archer kills the other, but the soldier throws himself towards the crenellations of the wall in a final attempt to warn somebody. His body falls.

  The others come out of the armory. Our numbers have been cut by three, but all of my friends are still here. Jericho has a sword embedded in his shield, and he takes a moment to wrench it out.

  “That wasn’t so bad,” I murmur. Then we run back towards the tower.

  All goes well. That is, until we reach the top.

  The beacon is located on top of the tower on the farthest point on the left wing. It’s positioned such that when lit, it shines through the gap between two of the peaks that surround Terrace. It will take at least a minute to climb.

  However, we are not to light
the beacon until we know the Keep is ours. To establish that, five of the groups have been appointed to visit the most important places in the Keep. Once they come to the top, we will know the Keep is ours.

  The training grounds that were built up here have been destroyed, and instead we find a troll. Khaoth knows how Tygnar got him up here, but here he stands, woken by the warhorn.

  “Work your magic, Trollslayer,” Percival says. He says it like a joke, but I know it’s not.

  The troll roars and charges us, swinging his club. “Into the tower!” one of the men cries.

  “No!” I yell, but too late.

  As he flees inside, the troll swings his club and cracks the stone bricks of the tower. Only two swings later, he has smashed a hole into the tower and has crushed the soldier within.

  Unable to find his kill, the troll roars and turns back towards us, who are scattering across the roof of the Keep. Randomly he begins swinging his club at whoever happens to be closest, bellowing the whole time. Only one archer lives, but the troll only finds his arrows a nuisance.

  Another group comes up through the tower opposite and, seeing the troll, begins to question the wisdom of fighting. Shortly after them another arrives, in the opposite corner.

  He advances on me slowly, like he’s enjoying the moment of the kill. “Come here, little man,” he rumbles. His voice is croaky and low. “You die now.”

  I dodge one of his blows and hit the inside of his knee with the spike of my hammer. He screeches curses and thrashes about. I only barely evade the first strike, but the second nicks my shoulder and I fly towards the edge.

  I sit up, dazed, leaning on the crenellations that overlook the city. I struggle to stand and make it just as the troll zones in on me and opens his mouth to bellow.

  Despite my dizziness, I make this the best knife I have ever thrown.

  The knife leaves my hand as he begins to charge, holding his club high, his mouth wide open in a horrible roar. There’s a choking noise as the roar stops abruptly and the knife embeds itself in the back of his mouth.

  The club flies forward and off the edge as he goes limp with a crash. His momentum carries him forward and I am forced to dive out of the way as his head smashes into the crenellations and he somersaults over the edge to his death.