Dragonhammer: Volume I (17 page)

“Well, I’m done,” I say, standing.

“And I,” agrees Percival.

Nathaniel stands and pushes away his empty plate as Jericho belches.

James stares sadly at the remnants of the food on his plate.  “I guess I’m done too…”

“You can finish later,” says the Jarl.  “It will only take a minute or two.”  He leads us down the table and past the throne-like chair.

“Why here?” asks James.

“Because it’s tradition,” answers the Jarl.  “That’s really the only reason.”  The floor behind the throne is inclined by a flight of about four stairs.  At the top, the floor evens out again.  An enormous banner, brown and emblazoned with the bear and sword, hangs on the wall behind.

The Jarl stands on one side of the banner, and positions us on the other.  “Do you have your weapons?” he asks.  We shake our heads.  “No matter,” he continues.  “It’s only a minor part of the ceremony, and an unimportant one at that.”  He eyes the sling James wears.  “You sure you can fight?”

James replies, “Give me about a month.  I’ll stand with you until then, but as soon as I am able, I will fight.”

The Jarl smiles.  “Good.  Repeat after me.”  We accept his instruction.  “I, Jarl Hralfar.”

We repeat, but substitute our own names in for his.  That is, except for James, who quickly realizes his mistake and says his own name.

“Do swear fealty to the clan of Gilgal and all of its authorized leaders.”

We repeat.

“And offer myself as a protector of its values, to the death.”

I punch the last few words a little too hard, while the others seem almost reluctant to say them.

”And take upon myself all honor and responsibilities that calling holds.”

We echo him like a chorus.

“All hail Gilgal,” he finishes.

We repeat.

He nods.  “There.  You are official soldiers.”

We don’t move.  The Jarl stands across from us awkwardly.

After a second James leans over and looks at his plate sitting alone on the table.  He points to it and begins, “Can I-”

“Yes, go!” says the Jarl.  All four of us scurry from our spot and down to finish our breakfast.

Commander Magnus stares at me from further down the table.  “You weren’t even a soldier yet?!”

“Just ignore her,” says Percival.

“Yeah,” I agree.  “But there’s only so much I can endure.”

That night there is a feast, but I remember little of it. Just about everybody gets drunk.  There’s lots of food and the Jarl gives a speech about how we fought bravely and reclaimed our city.  I leave early with Nathaniel, to visit Gunther and Mother.

By the time we get there, Mother is asleep, but our brothers are not.  It’s hardly evening, so I ask Gunther why Mother has gone to bed so soon.

“She’s taking it hard,” he says without looking up from his book.  “Do you know when your regiment is moving out?”

“Two days,” I say.  “We’re going to launch a counterattack on Tygnar.”

He nods.  “Good.”

“What?  Why?”

He looks up from his book and gives me a sly look.  “Because my wedding is tomorrow,” he responds.

The information takes a moment to process.  As soon as the words make it through my ear and into my brain, I exclaim, “Right!  I forgot!”

He shushes me and reminds me the Mother is sleeping.

“Right,” I say quietly.  “I forgot that too.”

He wears a smile like a mischievous child.

“What’s that about?” I ask.

“What’s what about?” he retaliates.

“That goofy smirk.”

“I’m getting married!  You’ll know when you get married.”

“That’s assuming I survive this war,” I say quietly.

“You will,” he says.  “You just need to find a girl to wait for you ‘til you come back.  Rachel has a sister, you know.”

“Not interested,” I reply at once. 

“You’ll meet her tomorrow at the wedding,” he continues, ignoring my comment.  “You are coming, right?”

“Not if you’re trying to hook me up with your bride’s sister!”

He shakes his head.  “Fine.”

I’m unsatisfied.  “Where is it?” I ask.

“Just meet me here tomorrow morning.  We’ll go as a family.”  He still wears the childish grin as I leave his home to go back to the barracks.

Gunther’s Wedding

T
he next morning I show up at Gunther’s house wearing the most formal thing I own, which happens to be the armor I have acquired from the army.  Though slightly uncomfortable, it suits the occasion and it satisfies Mother, even if she wishes I had worn a frilly collared shirt or something.

Only the edges of my chainmail shirt show from under my shoulder pads and the padded steel breastplate I wear over it.  The shining silver of the armor is wrought with brown designs that curve and twist around Gilgal’s crest emblazoned in the middle.  I decide not to bring my hammer.

Mother seems unusually erratic and elated.  Every so often a tear drops from her eyes, but I can’t tell if it’s one of joy or sadness.  She fusses with Gunther’s formal shirt for about five minutes.  She would have gone longer, but Gunther manages to persuade her that it looks fine and even if it didn’t nobody is going to care.

Nathaniel wears the same outfit I do, and Mother says something about how we’re so brutally dressed and wouldn’t it be better to wear something like Gunther?

I shake my head.  “Nothing Gunther has will fit me.”

When she looks accusingly at Nathaniel, he says, “I can’t let him be the only one there wearing this, can I?”  When he sees Mother about to respond, he adds quickly, “That was rhetorical.”

She responds anyway, but in a very out-of-character manner.  “Very well.”  Then she walks away quietly.

A few moments later, we’re walking to the temple on the other side of the city, commonly called, “Hall of the Gods.”  Percival and James have joined us.  Jericho does not know my brother well, and so has decided not to come.

“Where’s Gunther?” I ask, being apparently very unlearned in the art of marrying.

“He’s already at the temple,” says Mother quickly, who is wearing a skirt for the first time in probably two years.  “And Rachel is with her family.”

“Oh.”

We make a sort of little procession to the “priests’ village.”  Having never been there, I wonder if there will be a little priest shop that sells funky hoods and little amulets.

The square is amazing.  In the very center stands an enormous statue of Khaoth, who is stretching his arms to the sky.  He wears armor only on his legs, but his chest and abdomen seem strong enough to block any sword.  My head measures up only to his mid-calf.

A temple sits on each corner of the square, each one supporting a different statue of a different god.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“That one,” says Mother, pointing at the far right corner. 

Frederick greets us at the door to the temple and shakes each of our hands, speaking to us individually for at least a few seconds.  To me, I think he said something along the lines of, “Hello Kadmus, love getting married, hm?”  I thought it was weird, but you may interpret it how you like.

Inside, we sit on two rows of six benches.  At the front of the room stands an altar on a table.  Frederick, somehow back to his old self, takes his place behind it with a large smile.  Behind him, a statue of Frejjl, the goddess of womanhood and marriage, looks down with a smile at the altar.

Gunther enters the room from a door on the left.  He wears an enormous grin.  It’s made goofier by the frilled white shirt he’s wearing, and I make a mental note to make fun of him for it later.

“Isn’t he handsome,” whispers Mother.  I notice that her eyes are welling up again, and she is holding up a handkerchief.

Gunther stands on the left of the altar, to Frederick’s right.  Then the front door opens again.

She’s beautiful.  She wears a golden dress that sparkles in the light and a matching circlet on her head.  The circlet has a single emerald studded into it.  Her rich hair flows down her back, almost to her midriff.  Gunther’s smile gets bigger, which I didn’t actually think was possible.

Rachel stands across from Gunther at the altar.  I see her gesture to his odd shirt and he shrugs, but doesn’t say anything.  Rachel’s family comes in and sits.  Excitedly my mother tries to start a conversation with Rachel’s father, but Frederick cuts her short.

“Today,” he starts.  “We gather here to witness the union of two souls, under the authority of Frejjl, goddess of marriage.”  He pauses and looks at Gunther.  “It is a high responsibility to become a husband and father.”  He looks at Rachel.  “A wife and mother.  May you help each other in these callings as you…”

I catch myself starting to doze and reprimand myself.  I can’t fall asleep during Gunther’s wedding!

Before I know it, Ethan shakes me awake.  “Don’t snore,” he whispers.  I look up at the altar and find Frederick is still giving his speech.

“How long was I out?” I mutter.

“Only a few minutes,” he replies.  “I wish they would hurry this up.  I’m getting hungry.”

I nod in agreement and glance to the right, where one of Rachel’s relations, presumably her younger sister, is staring at me.  She sees my glance and looks away quickly.  I roll my eyes and look back to the front.

“Gunther Kadmusson, do you swear that you will keep Rachel close to you, and honor the covenants you have made with her this day, to provide and protect, and to carry out all other responsibilities you may have?”

“I swear it.”

Frederick turns to Rachel.  “Rachel Orus-daughter, do you swear that you will stay close to Gunther, and honor the covenants you have made with him this day, to care and to nurture, and to carry out all other responsibilities you may have?”

“I swear it.”  Her smile is almost as big as Gunther’s.

“Then, by the authority given me by Frejjl, I pronounce you husband and wife.”

Without waiting for Frederick’s cue, they reach for each other and kiss.  I snort at the sight, and Mother gives me a look.

The families mingle.  I meet a few of Rachel’s brothers, but I don’t find them particularly interesting and I want to go home to eat anyway.  The girl approaches me.

“Hi,” she says.  “I’m Sara.”

“Kadmus,” I respond.  I offer my hand and she takes it, though she does hang on a little long for my liking.  “You’re Rachel’s sister?”

“Yes,” she replies.  Her fair skin flushes with red as she eyes my breastplate.  She’s a younger replica of Rachel, but with slightly more slender cheek and jaw bones, and she’s slightly shorter.  I tower over her by well over a foot.  “You are Gunther’s older brother?”  She clarifies.  When I shake my head she continues, “Oh.  Why are you so much bigger than he?”

“I don’t know,” I respond.  “I just inherited all the size and more.”

She giggles.  “From who?”

Then I realize that my father is not there.  His last words to Gunther play in my head. 
My only regret… is that I was not able to meet your sweetheart… what is her name?

Gunther’s voice follows his.
Rachel.  Her name is Rachel.

Rachel
, Father’s voice responds. 
You will make it back to her…  I know you will…
  Then the memory dies and I am facing Sara.

She sees a tear roll down my left cheek, though my eyes have not filled.  Stone-faced I wipe the tear slowly, avoiding eye contact.  Her face falls.

“I’m sorry,” she says.  “Is it your father?”

“Yes,” I reply strongly.  “He is dead.”

“Oh,” she whispers.  “I am sorry.”  Then she hugs me around the middle.

I’m shocked and stand awkwardly, saying nothing.  Gunther looks at me from across the room and winks, then laughs at my discomfort in the situation.  I give him a glare that says I’ll kill him later.

Sara lets go eventually, but keeps her hands on my sides.  I suck in my gut a little out of extreme uneasiness.  She takes it the wrong way and thinks I’m flexing.  “You okay?” she asks.  Her hands move to my shoulders and slip down to my hands, but I recoil immediately and scratch my head with one, and hide the other behind my back.

“You know,” I say.  “I haven’t talked to Gunther yet.  I’m going to go… uh… do that.”  Then I walk briskly away.

Gunther snorts when he sees me striding towards him.  “You are so dead,” I whisper in his ear.  The relations he had been conversing with give me an odd look, but don’t question anything.  Gunther suppresses his laughter but lets himself grin.

“I’m gonna go,” says James after talking with Gunther.  “My family is getting settled here and I want to go spend some time with them before we leave again.”

“Sure,” I reply.  “Trust me, I totally understand.”

“I’d probably better go too then,” says Percival.  “I’d like to spend what little time I have here with my family.”

“I’ll see you later then,” I say.

We eat at Rachel’s parents’ home.  The dining room is certainly big enough, but a few of us have to eat in the den or on the floor for lack of space at the table.  Then there’s more mingling.  Before Sara can make another move I, fortunately enough, doze off and take a nap on one of the fur chairs.

Mother wakes me.  “We’re going.”

I mumble something that probably sounded like, “Uhngoob.”

I fully wake up on the way home, and notice that Nathaniel is not there.  “Where’s Nathaniel?” I ask.

“He didn’t want to go to Rachel’s house for lunch, so he went home,” answers Mother.

“That was an option?”

She glares at me.

“Just kidding, kidding…”  Her glare forces me to look down.  Quickly I change the subject.  “Have you found a place here yet?”  I know she, Ethan, and Nicholas cannot possibly stay with Gunther forever, especially because he’s married now.

“I’ve been looking the entire time you’ve been gone,” she replies.  “And we’ve found a house that was vacated because the owners… well…”

“I got it,” I say.  “When are you moving in?”

“Now.  We have nothing but for the possessions we brought from our home in Virfith.  Because of the previous owners’ sudden death and lack of heirs, we can have the furniture.”

“How did you pay for the house?”

“The extra that your father stored away.  Gunther refused to let us pay all of it, so he pitched in a little.”

“Is it close to Gunther’s?” I ask.

“It’s only a few blocks away,” she replies.  “Just the right size for us.”

“I’ll accompany you.”

She nods.  “Okay.”

Before Gunther gets home with his bride, we make a stop at his house and pick up what little we have.  Then Mother leads me and her three younger sons to the house she has claimed.

It’s small, though slightly larger than Gunther’s.  Inside, I take a look around.

“Could use some cleaning up,” she says, referring to the dust and some cobwebs.

A chandelier hangs in the middle of the dining room, which doubles as the front room.  A small table sits right in the middle with four humble chairs sitting around it.  The fireplace is right behind, with a stone hearth and some cupboards that hold pots and pans.  There’s a door on each side of the room that lead to a bedroom and a washroom respectively.

I don’t know how to bring the subject up lightly, so I bluntly say what’s on my mind.  “Mother?  Our regiment leaves tomorrow.”

She’s stunned.  Her optimism is destroyed and she reverts to the person she was the night before, after we told her of father’s death.  “Oh,” she says quietly.

“We’re here to say goodbye,” I say.  “We leave first thing tomorrow morning and we won’t get the chance.”

Mother holds out her arms as she starts crying again.  Both I and Nathaniel find ourselves in her sturdy hug, and she refuses to let go.  “My boys…” she sobs.  “My boys…”  Ethan hugs us from the back and even Nicholas clings to our legs.

I resist the tears and they lock in my throat.  I cannot speak without letting them out.

“I love you…” she weeps.

I and Nathaniel echo her words.

Finally she and our brothers pull away.  “We will be victorious,” says Nathaniel.  “We’re going to be okay.”

“We will return,” I assure her.  “We will return.”

My mother pleads with me silently not to go.  Silently we slip away from her and out the door.  The last thing I see is her face, struggling to stay strong in front of her smallest children.

“We have to say goodbye to Gunther as well,” Nathaniel says, wiping his eyes.

I nod.  “Of course.”  The sun is getting low.  As a part of the legion, we are supposed to be in the barracks before sundown.  We might have to make this quick.

At first our knock on the door goes unanswered.  The second try, however, brings him to the door.

“Kadmus!  Nathaniel!” he says, tucking his shirt in.  He opens the door a little wider and asks, “What is it?”

“We leave tomorrow,” Nathaniel says.

“You came to say goodbye,” Gunther finishes.  We nod.  He steps outside and closes the door behind him.  We stare at each other for an awkward moment.  Then all three of us embrace tightly.

“I’m sorry,” says Gunther.  “I’m sorry…”