Dragonhammer: Volume I

by Conner McCall

  “Do not listen to it,” I respond. “You can’t let it get inside of you.”

  He does not respond.

  Moonlight

  We make good time down the mountain, southward towards Kera. Jarl Kjunn will likely have gone back to his city, and there we can spend a night and resupply.

  We walk with the Fravora to our right for most of the day, and then cross over a bridge to the other side. The road makes its way down the mountain until it runs only just higher than the river.

  On the way down, I notice the way the waxing season has affected everything. All plants have deepened their colors, whether they are red, purple, white, orange, or jade. The pines are deep, dark green. Rocks and boulders still manage to stick out of the brown earth, disrupting the flow of the forest. The river smells slightly of fish; the mild breeze carries the scent to our position, no matter where we walk.

  We take turns keeping watch during the night. I take the longest shifts and allow the others to sleep. I find myself fully capable of functioning on very little sleep.

  Aela offers to take a shift and is quite forceful about it. Finally I agree to have her take one with James, if she would like.

  “You don’t trust me?” she asks.

  “I’ve never seen you fight before,” I respond. “I need to know you can defend yourself. The first person to get attacked is the watch. Can you defend yourself from attack?”

  She turns away and doesn’t answer, settling the dispute.

  The first few days go normally. On the fourth, Aela asks me something.

  “Why do you love your mother so much?”

  I think it an odd question, but wave the thought away because she has never had a mother to care for her. I answer, “Because she is my mother. She gave birth to me. For the first eighteen years of my life she fed me, gave me a place to sleep, and taught me. There’s nothing that quite matches up to a mother-son relationship. Except for the one I have with my father. It’s a little difficult to describe.”

  “I see,” she says. “You showed me such kindness even though you didn’t know me. You still don’t and you’re still showing me kindness. Why?”

  “Because that’s what good people do,” I respond. “I’m trying to be a good person. I learned from my parents how to do it, and they do it well.”

  “Yes,” she agrees. Then she leaves the discussion.

  James is trying to make a good impression on Aela. He does all sorts of things to get her attention, and it’s quite obvious. She ignores every attempt, shutting him down every time. His enthusiasm is unhindered for a long while, but finally he grows weary of his own attempts and ceases his antics.

  “What’s up with James?” Aela asks.

  I smile and answer, “He’s being James.” She gives me a ‘well-duh’ look, and I just shake my head with a grin.

  I become uneasy when we get within three day’s travel of Dragongate Bridge. I start to get a little jumpy and the wind has a sour, cold feel to it. It’s a different kind of cold; it chills me to the bone like it brings a dark omen with it. My head whirls every time I hear a twig snap or see a shadow out of the corner of my eye.

  Percival notices. “What’s the matter?” he asks.

  “We’re being followed,” I mutter.

  “How can you tell?” he asks.

  “I just know,” I say quietly. “There’s something very wrong.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” he responds. “You’ve been right every single other time. This time will be no exception. I will sleep on my sword tonight.”

  “And I will take first watch,” I state. “I don’t like this at all.”

  That night, we don’t build a fire. James and Nathaniel are disappointed, but take it like men when I tell them why. Every one of us sleeps on our weapon of choice. But for me. I don’t sleep.

  I sit up against a tree in the night. There’s a crescent moon shining on us tonight, so visibility is bad, but it could be worse.

  I am aware of everything. Every sound, every smell, every sight, I perceive and analyze. The rustle of the pines, the dart of a squirrel, the hoot of an owl, the smell of the river.

  I keep my hand on the hilt of one of my throwing knives, keeping it sheathed to avoid detection by the glint of the blade. The other hand grips the shaft of my hammer, with the shining head partly hidden under a bed of pine needles. I do not move for minutes at a time, and only when a particularly loud rustle of the trees is able to mask my miniscule movements.

  We have set up camp on the right side of the road. On the other side the river roils past. I am offered an almost-clear view of the road, but any passersby will not be able to see me. Not that any passersby will take the road at this hour.

  Finally, after several hours, I wake Nathaniel for his turn, and lay on top of my bedroll to get what sleep I can. As I sleep my hands rest on my weapons.

  I wake before anyone else. Except for James, who was dutifully on the last watch. I rise and he draws his sword suddenly, but when he realizes that it is only me, he sheathes it. “We’re all jumpy,” he says quietly. “Something’s going to happen and we all know it.”

  I only nod. “It’s good that we’re ready.”

  That day we travel faster, probably out of nervousness. The only one who seems to be at ease is Aela.

  There’s little conversation. We listen to our own footsteps, half expecting to hear others coming from behind. We pass a man driving an oxen-drawn cart. He gives us a friendly wave and I do my best to give him a smile and return the gesture. I’m not sure it comes out as friendly as I would have liked.

  “Beautiful day!” he says.

  “Great for travelling!” I agree sincerely. The sun shines, the sky is blue and clear, and the air is warm and comfortable. There’s something else going on inside each of us.

  I take the first watch again, and we go without a fire.

  I’m in the exact position I had been in the night before. A few hours pass. The trees’ boughs and needles crackle as they rub together in the dark night. During a particularly strong gust, the rustle is louder than normal. During that rustle there is a similar unnatural noise from behind me.

  I stand my ground, sitting silent and unmoving on the floor of the forest. There’s a miniscule crackle from the left of my tree, and the knife leaves my hand.

  He goes down with hardly a gargle. There are more, however. One of them starts and falls backward on a long stick with a loud snap. A dark smile starts to form on my lips as their movements get a little more frenzied. Still I am undiscovered.

  Turning about, they make their way into the middle of our camp. I count; there are about nine of them.

  With a horrific roar I jump from my hiding place and slam one of them into the ground, stab another with the spike, and then fling him into a third. Percival leaps up, drawing his sword and running one of them through the middle. Dark blood glints as it drips from his blade in the moonlight.

  James wakes just in time to roll to the side and dodge one of their stabs. He retaliates into his attacker’s leg, and the man falls with a yell of pain.

  I knock aside two more and watch as Nathaniel shoots a deadly arrow from his bow straight to the heart of his target. There stands only one more.

  I disarm him with a quick twist, grab him by the collar, and slam him to the ground. “Who are you?!” I demand. “Who sent you?”

  He shakes his head and says, “I’m not telling you that.”

  I rest the spike on his sternum, letting the weight of the hammer drive the point into the bone. He groans. “Who sent you?” I seethe.

  Again he shakes his head, but says nothing.

  I begin to push on the spike. He emits a small cry of pain. To this reaction I respond, “You will die whether you tell me or not. Be aware that if you tell me, it will be painless and quick. If not…”

  I lean my weight onto the hammer. Blood starts to ooze from the new wound and he spurts, “We are from Diagrall!”

  I lift the weigh
t, but leave the point there. “Doing what?”

  “We’re here to kill you!”

  “And a fine job you’ve done,” I say sarcastically. “Why here, why now?”

  “What does it look like?” he chokes. “You’re alone on the road!”

  “What does that make us?” James mutters.

  “Our leader would do anything for your head!” continues the assassin. “We’ve spent more lives trying to get it than anyone thought! If only-”

  Suddenly he chokes and writhes on the ground.

  “If only what?” I demand.

  He thrashes without answering me. Then with a gargle he suddenly lies still.

  I remove my hammer from his chest and study him. Foam has begun trickling out of his unmoving mouth and his eyes have gone dormant. His black cloak remains unadulterated, apart from the splotch of blood where the spike of my hammer had been resting.

  Finding nothing, I glance at Nathaniel who raises his hands, saying clearly, “It wasn’t me!” Aela sits on her bedroll with her dagger unsheathed, but her bow lies unstrung across her pack a few feet away. She looks up at me with her misty blue eyes.

  “We cannot stay here,” I decide. “We leave. Now.”

  We pack up camp faster than we ever have before. Then we leave, almost at a dead run down the road. Every so often I glance behind us to check. There is never anyone there.

  I run at the back, with Nathaniel at the front. Aela runs just in front of me. Despite the situation, I can’t help but notice the beautiful way her hair shines in the moonlight.

  Then we reach the path that curves into the Vale of Life. Nathaniel makes to run further down the road, but I hiss to him, “No! This way!”

  Our troop warily makes its way into the Vale of Life and, hopefully, away from prying eyes.

  “The Bridge is dangerous,” I explain. “A prime place for ambush. We can’t risk it. We go around, through the Vale.”

  Nobody argues. In the same formation we run up the ridge and away from all attackers. The sun begins to rise and we ignore it, though our pace has slowed. Still we walk, all the way around.

  We only stop at the cavern from which the waterfall flows.

  “What is this place?” Aela asks as we seek temporary shelter in the cave. We walk over the wooden bridge just inside, to the other side of the underground river.

  “This is the tomb of my father,” I respond quietly.

  “Oh,” she says, a little embarrassed that she had asked. We breathe hard. Then she asks, “May I see?”

  I nod hesitantly and light one of the torches, taking it from its sconce. She and Nathaniel follow me deeper into the cave. We turn the corner and our only light becomes the torch. Then we stop at the tomb.

  Aela reads the inscription on the great rectangular stone.

  “I must pay my respects every time I pass,” I explain. “It wouldn’t be right for me to pass him by without stopping.”

  “Neither for me,” says Nathaniel quietly.

  Aela watches us for a moment, and then we walk back out to the falls. “Onward,” I say, leading our troop down the ridge that will lead us closer to Kera.

  We see no more hostiles on the road, or in the forest for that matter. The path connects with the main road and we turn to continue south, having bypassed Dragongate Bridge successfully. As evening falls, we enter the gates of Kera.

  “I must speak with Jarl Kjunn,” I mutter urgently. “He said he would be here.”

  We walk without stopping all the way to the base of the stairway that leads to Stormguard. Even then we continue upward, to the massive gates.

  “I am Dragonhammer,” I announce to the guards. “I request to see Jarl Kjunn.”

  They nod and bang on the doors, which open shortly after. I lead my group inside, and then inspect what I have just interrupted. It appears as though we have walked in on dinner.

  The enormous hall is filled with guards and men of high standing in the city. Every chair around the long table has an occupant. Jarl Kjunn sits in the largest one at the far end.

  He sees me before I reach him and gets up, wiping his mouth and beard with a handkerchief. “Kadmus!” he says. “Your return is welcome!”

  “I stopped it,” I state. “They tried and failed.”

  “As I expected,” he replies. “You are staying here then?”

  I nod. “If that would be alright?”

  “Of course. You and each of your companions will have room enough.”

  “Thank you,” I reply. “You should know that we were attacked on the road here.”

  “By who?” he asks. His brow furrows and the corners of his lips turn downwards.

  “They had no marking that gave away their affiliation,” I respond. “But I did catch one and he gave away that they were with Diagrall, sent to kill me specifically.”

  “In our own lands?” he questions. “This is grave. If this is the case, none of the roads are safe here.”

  “No,” I agree. “They are not.”

  “Well, spend the night in good spirit,” he says. “Allow me to have the worry. You have had enough of that the past few weeks. Would you like some food?”

  “Please.”

  The Jarl gives us each a generous helping of food, and then a guard shows us to our quarters. The rooms are much more luxurious than I am used to, as they are guest rooms in an essential fortress-palace. Nathaniel and I share a room, Percival, James, and Jericho share another, and Aela gets one to herself.

  Nathaniel and I each get our own four-poster bed, with thick blankets and smooth fluffy mattresses and pillows. From a tall window, we get a view of the plains that stretch behind the city. A brown tapestry emblazoned with the bear and the sword crossing its neck hangs on the wall between our beds. In the dressers, various shirts and pants are stocked. I still have to ask for some to get a size large enough.

  That night is the best I sleep for a very long time.

  The next morning I and all the others eat breakfast with the Jarl at the unnecessarily long table in the front hall. Then the gate bangs open and a messenger runs in.

  “My Jarl!” he says, taking a knee in front of Jarl Kjunn.

  “Rise,” says the Jarl. “What tidings do you bear?”

  “I bring a message from Jarl Hralfar,” he says. “From Fragruss.”

  Fragruss? I think.

  He holds out a letter, the wax seal stamped with the insignia of Gilgal from the ring on Hralfar’s finger. Kjunn takes it and breaks the seal unhurriedly. As he reads, his eyes narrow and his reading almost becomes frantic.

  “What?” I ask.

  He finishes the letter and says, “It’s for you.”

  Flight

  I take the letter warily and glance into the Jarl’s emerald eyes before beginning to read.

  Captain Armstrong,

  Your presence is needed immediately in Fragruss. You must waste no time in your journey. There is no option; you must come now. Titus Swordbreaker, the son of Lucius Swordbreaker, has sent a letter that you must read and answer to within a week from the time I have sent this message. If he does not get a reply or an audience from you within that time, he will attack with all the force that Tygnar can muster. Speed your flight here or there will be much blood shed needlessly.

  He has requested that you come against him to battle the same way that you came against Lucius’s champion. Make haste and get here in time to reply. He sits on our doorstep, waiting. Come, and come quickly.

  Jarl Hralfar

  The others read over my shoulder.

  I look at the messenger and ask urgently, “How long were you travelling?! From the time you got this letter to the moment you walked in that door, how long was it?”

  “This is the third day,” he replies quickly, raising his hands like I was pointing a sword at him. “I would have been here yesterday, but I was slowed by a troop of bandits that tried to raid me. My horse outran them.”

  “Three,” I repeat under my breath. “That only leave
s us with four days to get to Fragruss.”

  “Four days?” James questions. “Four days?! How the dingflies are we going to get to Fragruss in four days?!”

  “Why?” asks Aela, concerned. She takes the letter and reads it quickly. “Not good,” she mutters.

  “That’ll take us thirteen days just to get there!” James panics. “Eleven or twelve if we’re moving fast!”

  “Horses,” I reply.

  “Oh,” he mutters, looking down. “Right, that’s faster.”

  “I can spare a few horses for you,” Kjunn says when I look for his approval. “You know where the stables are?”

  “Yes,” I nod.

  “Simply tell the stable master I sent you and that it’s urgent. He will allow you to take the six you will need. I am assuming you are all going?”

  Nobody says anything otherwise.

  “Make haste,” Kjunn says softly. “Be strong, as you need to be. I pray to Khaoth that it will all play out for the better.” Then he looks to me. “I fear that they may try to attack you again. Always keep up a careful guard. Be ready.”

  We pack with food from his stores that he has generously offered us. We leave within the hour that we received the letter, almost running down the steps from Stormguard into the city. The stable sits next to the barracks on the left of the enormous staircase. As Kjunn promised, the stable master is cooperative and allows us six horses.

  The gate opens to let us leave.

  Then we are on the road once more.

  Aela leads us strongly from atop her chestnut, though there’s not much leading to be done on a road such as this. There is constantly a nag in the back of my mind. Four days. Four days. Four days…

  I expect an attack similar to the one that plagued us on the road to Kera. None comes.

  The plains pass quickly, but not nearly as quickly as I would like. Always the mountains rise to our right, and the forest stretches to the left in the distance.

  We make camp a little ways from Thrak. It gets too dark too quickly to get to the city.