CHAPTER FIVE
Tovak’s heart skipped a beat, and he became still. Should he tell the truth? Should he do as Dagon suggested and make up a name? Heck, he’d already decided he would. But something caused him to hesitate. What would Struugar do if he knew the truth?
“Well?” Struugar asked, looking up. “Durpa got your tongue?”
Tovak cleared his throat.
“Tovak . . . .” he said. “Tovak . . . Ironhammer.”
He’d known an elderly beggar by that name and it sort of slipped out. Tovak had suspected the beggar had made the name up. At least there was a “hammer” in it, he thought. For so long, he’d been ashamed of his father’s name, but it was the only thing that remained of his childhood, other than mostly bad memories. He had long since come to hate everything the name Stonehammer represented. But the son inside him still yearned for those earlier days of precious happiness . . . before everything had been torn asunder.
Tovak sucked in a breath as he gazed upon the captain, with his pencil poised above the book. It was done, and he felt a strange sense of relief to put the family name behind him and start afresh. Why had he not done it sooner?
Struugar stiffened a fraction and then he expelled a long breath, setting the pencil back down on the book. One moment, he’d been kindly, even pleased to have Tovak join the company. He looked as if a heavy weight had settled upon his shoulders, and Tovak feared he had made a mistake. Did Struugar know? Had Dagon or Beghan told him? Was it all about to be taken away? Again?
“Tovak . . . Ironhammer, you say?” Struugar said slowly. He cast his eyes down to the book. “That’s a strong name,” he added, but his tone didn’t match the words. “I don’t think I’m familiar with the Ironhammers.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “You know, now that I think on it, the name reminds me of someone I once knew . . . .” He rubbed his jaw and turned his gaze towards the top of the tent for a moment. Then his eyes settled back upon Tovak. “This would have been long before you were born. I’d just signed up with a warband and was eager to build my Legend, very much like you,” he added, glancing at Tovak. “We were at war with the Syrulians.” The captain paused, his gaze becoming distant before refocusing on Tovak. “Anyway, I was a grunt and my company had been ambushed by infantry, supported by archers.”
Tovak listened. As a child, he’d always enjoyed hearing about his father’s war stories.
“We were in a narrow canyon,” Struugar continued. “They had a few dozen archers waiting amongst the rocks, backed up by infantry. We lost half the company before we knew what was happening, including our officers and all four of the sergeants. A good number were wounded. I’d taken an arrow, myself. The damned thing punched right through my armor.” He patted his chest where he’d been wounded. “We were done. There was simply no hope. I fully expected all of us to die right then and there.” Struugar fell silent for a moment, as if lost in his thoughts. “And then, a voice rose above the noise of the fight. A warrior stepped forward and took charge, a grunt like me, only better than the rest of us, fearless even. To this day, I remember hearing him shout those two words as if it were yesterday. Do you know what he said?”
“No, sir,” Tovak said in a near whisper.
“On me.” Struugar shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe it was the way he said it, but there was confidence there. He rallied us, pulled a shattered and desperate company together. He wasn’t an officer, not yet anyway. But he took charge, like he’d been born for that moment.”
Tovak could imagine the warrior doing it. He wished he’d seen it, for it must have been glorious. He only wished he could be so brave in such a desperate situation.
“He ordered us to form a wedge. And as the humans closed to finish us, he raised his volzjain and pushed us forward. He started singing.”
“He was singing?” Tovak was astonished by this. It was like the captain had lived through a bard’s magical tale of a hero saving the day.
“A marching song . . . the ‘Battle Hymn of Jun Rugall.’ Well, I was right there with him, and as our wedge pushed forward into the enemy, we shouted that song at the tops of our lungs.” Struugar raised proud, fierce eyes, looking straight at Tovak. “We drove that wedge straight into their line, tearing those bastards apart like berserkers.” Struugar paused. “He was fearless, and it infected the rest of us . . . . We fought, and we bled them. Because of that warrior, we refused to give, refused to yield, and we cut them down like wheat during the harvest. The humans broke, scrambling to get up the steep canyon walls and away from us. We killed many . . . many that day.”
“That sounds glorious,” Tovak breathed.
“Glorious?” Struugar asked in a near whisper. “No. There was nothing glorious about that day. It was kill or be killed and it was ugly business. We lost a lot of good boys.”
Tovak felt slightly rebuked, but still it was a tale fit for a hero.
“The warrior?” Tovak asked. “Was it Karach?”
“No, Tovak. It wasn’t the warchief, but I think you know the name as well as you know your own.” Struugar moved around the table and placed his hand on Tovak’s shoulder. “The warrior who rallied us, who saved all of our lives and gave us not only the direction, but the will to win, to fight back . . . was Graybor Stonehammer. I owe him my life. So do a number of other lads too.”
“What?” Tovak gasped, going cold. Struugar knew.
“You look just like him, you know,” Struugar said. “He was your age when he joined. You sound like him too.” He searched Tovak’s eyes. “It’s a pity you’re ashamed to take his name, Pariah or not.”
A wave of guilt and shame erupted inside Tovak’s heart, and he struggled to force it back down, before it overwhelmed him.
“Ashamed?” Tovak said. “Of course I’m ashamed.” He stared at Struugar. “He got all of those people killed and his entire company wiped out. He was a coward and a fool and I hate him for what he did to my mother and me . . . . Forgive me, sir, but you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Is that what your uncle told you?”
“It’s what everyone told me,” Tovak said bitterly, “for as long as I can remember.”
Struugar locked eyes with Tovak. There was a hardness in the captain’s gaze. Struugar had not moved, but he suddenly appeared taller, more imposing.
“It would seem,” Struugar said slowly, a deeply troubled look on his face, “that I know a good deal more about him than you do . . . .”
Tovak said nothing.
Struugar’s shoulders sagged slightly, as if some of the life had been let out of him. His face told of defeat or perhaps a failure, as if Tovak’s anguish was, somehow, his fault.
“You don’t know what it was like,” Tovak finally said, quietly. “You couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like to be a Pariah.” Tovak stepped back and turned away from Struugar. He fought the tears of frustration that threatened to pour down his cheeks. “After my mother . . . after she took her life, my uncle took me in. I was less than a slave to him, no more than a dog to be kicked and given only enough scraps to keep me alive and fit enough to do the work he loaned me out for. It felt like there wasn’t a person in Garand’Durbaad who didn’t know the name Stonehammer or Barasoom or that I was the one Stonehammer left alive to blame for it all. There was only one person in the whole of the city who showed me any kindness . . . a priest . . . and with his help, I managed to survive. Do you know how many times I almost gave up? If it hadn’t been for the kindness of Father Danik, I would have killed myself . . . or one of my tormentors, which would have amounted to the same thing. The authorities would have happily ended my existence.”
“You’re right,” Struugar said softly. “I haven’t the slightest idea what you’ve endured all these years. I couldn’t even guess, considering how our people treat with . . . well, with people in your circumstances.”
“The word you want is ‘Pariah’ and it was my father who branded me with it. It’s who I am.”
“Don’t you see?” Tovak said. “It doesn’t matter what you know about him. Barasoom happened.” He felt the old rage building again. He took a calming breath and asked Thulla for strength. He didn’t want to lose this opportunity, but in truth, he suspected he already had. He stared at Struugar, his heart aching. “People died, and my father was blamed for it all.” He shook his head, wishing he could change the past. “I’m ashamed to be his son, sir, and rightly I should be. It was all his fault.”
“That may be,” Struugar said. “But I will tell you, I never believed, not for one moment, that Graybor Stonehammer failed his company. I served with him for nearly ten years, and in that time, doing what we do here in the warband, you get to know someone. The Dvergr I knew was not a coward. He saved my life several times over.”
“I don’t understand,” Tovak said. “There were survivors, warriors from his own company. They told what happened.”
“Aye,” Struugar said. “There were and I wasn’t there. I suppose I owe you an apology . . . maybe a lot of us do for how you’ve been treated.” Struugar rubbed his jaw. “There were many of us who didn’t believe a word of the story that came back with the survivors.”
“Then why didn’t you do something?” Tovak’s words were full of hurt and even a hint of accusation.
“We had no proof,” Struugar said, holding up his hands.
Tovak stared down at his feet, thinking furiously. “And the eyewitnesses swore upon their Legend, didn’t they?”
Struugar gave a nod, which shook his beard.
“Then it could all be true,” Tovak said, “that he was a coward.”
“Aye,” Struugar said. “It could be. But if that were true, it wasn’t the leader I knew.” Struugar paused. “I should have checked in on you. I owed it to your father. I didn’t even learn that your mother had taken her own life until almost a year later. I understood your uncle took you in. I thought you were in good hands.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” Tovak asked. “It’s not as if it’s going to make any difference to me now . . . or tomorrow . . . or next year.”
“Who knows what the future holds for you, Tovak? You made it this far, even graduated the Academy. I think you are the first Pariah to manage that, which is damn impressive. If you want, you can be part of my company. There will be ample time and opportunity for you to earn Legend of your own.” Struugar gave Tovak’s shoulder a squeeze. “I guess what I’m saying is that you should be proud of who you are and find it in yourself to be proud of who your father was. He was the bravest warrior I’ve ever known, and if I were you, I wouldn’t let anyone say otherwise.”
“Proud of being a Pariah? I wish it was that simple,” Tovak said. “But you have given me a great deal to think about.” His feelings were all mixed-up. Confusion? Hope? Anger? They were all there in abundance.
“Indeed, I have,” Struugar said. “I know it’s hard, but one way or another you’ll have to come to terms with all of this . . . in time. For now, I’ll list you with the company as just Tovak, with no clan name or with if you prefer. It is your choice. That’s assuming you still want to join, after all this.”
Tovak paused for a moment. It was all out in the open, at least with Struugar. Here, at last, was a fresh start, what he’d been looking for. Maybe with the Baelix Guard, he could finally put the stigma of Pariah behind him. Then something occurred to him.
“You knew I was coming,” Tovak said. “You weren’t just looking for a recruit and you did not run into Beghan in the mess, did you?”
Struugar’s eyes narrowed. He shook his head.
“How?” Tovak asked. “How did you know?”
“Duroth sent word,” Struugar said, “shortly after you arrived in camp.”
“Duroth? I don’t understand.”
“In that pass,” Struugar said, “it wasn’t just me that your father saved.”
Tovak suddenly felt badly for how he’d thought of Duroth and why the teamster had granted him passage. One day, if there was an opportunity, he would make a point of thanking the cantankerous teamster.
“Thank you, sir,” Tovak said. “I do wish to join your company. That is, if you will still have me?”
“Good,” Struugar said. “And what name should I enter into the books?”
“Ironhammer,” Tovak said.
Struugar gave a nod. He made the entry in the book on the table and then moved over to return it back to the chest. He closed it with a snap. Turning back to Tovak, he said, “Don’t be surprised if your real name comes out. There were others on that yuggernok.”
“I understand,” Tovak said. “Thank you for the opportunity, sir.”
“Tomorrow is a new day, son, and knowing who your father was, I’m expecting great things from you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let me call for one of my boys, and we’ll get you squared away with your kit. Once you have it, turn in for the night.”
“Yes, sir,” Tovak said. “And thank you again for letting me join your company, sir . . . and everything you’ve told me. I won’t let you down.”
“I expect not,” Struugar replied with a stern eye.
“Captain?” a gruff voice called from just outside the tent.
“Enter,” Struugar called out.
The flap was pulled aside, and an older Dvergr stepped in, stood to attention, and saluted. He had a bald head and iron and white streaks through his gray beard. He wore a service tunic, with a blue cloak draped around his shoulders to fend off the chilly night air. He glanced over at Tovak and then returned his attention back to Struugar.
“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You didn’t, Sergeant,” Struugar assured him. “What is it?”
“A crate was delivered to the supply tent in your name, sir,” he said. “It came by way of that scoundrel you know. Duroth sent one of his boys over with it. Said it was only to be opened by you.”
“Good,” Struugar said. “I will fetch it later. We were just finishing up, and you, Sergeant, have great timing.”
“Yes, sir,” the sergeant said, with another glance thrown to Tovak.
“Sergeant Bahr, this is Recruit Tovak, and I’ve just entered him into the books. Get him set up with a skirmisher’s kit and show him where to bed down tonight. I’ll see that Benthok collects him in the morning.”
“Yes, Captain,” Bahr said, with another glance over at Tovak. “Are we still pulling out in the morning, sir?”
“I stopped by headquarters. Nothing has changed,” Struugar replied. “Now, I have some work to do. Both of you are dismissed.”
Bahr gave a salute, then turned to Tovak. “It’s customary to salute an officer.”
Tovak got the hint, snapped to attention, and saluted as he’d been taught at the Academy.
Struugar waved them both away.
“Follow me,” Bahr said, pulling the tent flap aside. He stepped out into the night and moved to the left with Tovak close behind.
They made their way back behind Struugar’s tent, where the supply tent stood. It was twice the size of the captain’s, and as they passed it, the rest of the Baelix Guard camp came into view. There were four rows of communal tents about the size of Struugar’s. A wide alley ran between the tents, with several campfires. Many of the tent flaps were open, and warriors in simple tunics and leggings moved about or sat around the fires. There was the hum of conversation on the air, mixed occasionally with the harsh bark of laughter.
To the left and right of the Baelix Guard encampment were other company encampments, laid
out in the same manner. The reality of it struck Tovak hard, and a thrill coursed through him. He was in the camp of the Baelix Guard . . . his company. For a moment, he allowed himself to revel in a genuine sense of accomplishment. Despite the pain of Dagon’s rebuke, Tovak realized he had taken the first real step towards his dream. He had joined a company attached to the warband. They weren’t the pioneers, but it was here he had a chance to earn Legend and leave behind his past.
Sergeant Bahr had disappeared around the corner of the supply tent. As Tovak moved forward to follow, he spotted something familiar just outside the tent that stopped him. Sitting there, in the grass beside the tent, was the crate he’d used as a table back on the yuggernok. It was unopened and marked, “Deliver to Captain Struugar Ironfist of the Baelix Guard.” He couldn’t believe his eyes.
The very idea that he and the crate had, somehow, been destined for the same company was a strange coincidence that left him marveling at the mysterious ways of Thulla. Was it destiny? Had the great god been trying to tell him something? He couldn’t see any other answer.
“Quit gawking and get your ass over here, boffer,” Bahr said from inside the supply tent. “I don’t have all night.”
Embarrassed, Tovak stepped around to the front of the tent, where a pair of torches illuminated the area. Inside the tent, sacks, barrels, chests, and stacks of gear were neatly arranged on all three sides. There was a small table just outside the tent, and a thick tome sat upon it, with columns and rows of information scrawled in a hasty but precise hand.
Bahr’s eyes narrowed a bit. “You best get that gawking out of your system in a hurry, boy. Ain’t none in the company gets time to just stand about enjoying the sights,” he said in a surly tone. “Now, let’s get you kitted out. It’s already bloody late as it is. Just my dumb luck a recruit would come in after hours.” He looked Tovak up and down once again, sizing him up slowly. His eyes came to rest on Tovak’s feet, waist, shoulders, and head. “Those boots new?” Bahr finally asked.
“Yes, sir,” Tovak said. “I bought them just before leaving Garand’Durbaad. They almost cleaned me out, but they were worth it.”
Reclaiming Honor Page 8
