Dragonhammer: Volume II (13 page)

“Of course!  Come up with something quick because if you don’t, then I may have to choose, and you might not like that.”

“Just you and me?” he asks.

“Just me and you,” I repeat.

He smiles broadly and says, “I have a few ideas.”

Sadly, we lack the time to go hunting or the hills to roll barrels.  We do, however, have an entire city to explore.

“Glass is so cheap here!” Nathaniel exclaims as we pass through the market.  “At least… cheaper than back at home.”

“And so are the spices and herbs,” I observe, pointing to a stall.  “Medicines too!”

We spend some time near the food market for lunch; the bread is flat and dense, rather than puffy, and the butcher has no beef but plenty of mutton.

After that, we find an excellent use for a shovel, a saddle, and a stray goat.

That evening we stumble into the city square, just in time for the ceremony of the treaty.  It takes Nathaniel a few minutes to finally get control of his laughter.

Lord Jarl Mavon Vaelus holds the treaty high in the square, atop a pavilion erected for celebrations or times such as these.  “At this time,” he says, “I, as the Lord Jarl of Tygnar, present this treaty to the people of Nur’tokh and usher in a new time of peace and prosperity between the clans of Gilgal and Tygnar!”

Lord Jarl Hralfar walks across the pavilion and takes Mavon’s hand.  They shake and give each other small nods and smiles.  Then Hralfar says, “I too, as the Lord Jarl of Gilgal, and on behalf of the people of the clan of Gilgal, am more than happy to accept this treaty and bring peace between our clans!”

There is applause and whooping as the townspeople watch.  Then the crowd gathers around the tables that line the square, as tens of servants appear from the castle holding trays laden with food.

The feast is long and loud.  Women in multicolored dresses dance with streamers, and bards serenade the town for hours.  Drunk men fall asleep standing while others call for more.  I only take part for the first bit, and then head back to the castle.  Even inside, I can hear the festivities.

“Did you finish the business you had?” asks James as Nathaniel and I walk in the barracks door.

“Of course,” I reply.  “I always do.”

He nods and goes back to sharpening his blade.

Aela lies on her bed in the corner with her back propped up against the pillow and her sleeves rolled up.  Her knees are up and she holds an open book with her left hand, using her legs like a table.   With her right she holds a piece of charcoal.  I can hear the scratching of her strokes on the parchment.

“What are you drawing?” I ask.

“Nothing,” she replies coldly.  Her curly hair is done in a ponytail, but her bangs are up and parted to the sides.

“Doesn’t sound like it,” I jeer smartly.

She doesn’t react, but continues to draw.

“Very well,” I mutter, walking to my own bunk.  James eyes me, but when I give him a questioning look he only grins and shakes his head.

Again Percival and I, this time accompanied by Nathaniel and James, visit Jericho.  This time he is conscious.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

“In pain,” he groans, but he doesn’t dare move a muscle.

“You know we’re moving out for Fragruss tomorrow,” I say.

“You know my leg is broken,” he growls through clenched teeth.

I nod.  “So you won’t be able to come with us?”

“I definitely can’t walk,” he says.  “I don’t know how I’d fare in a wagon.  Maybe I could ride, but I can’t be sure.”  He takes a deep breath and winces.

“Do you want to give it a try?” I ask.

He weighs the thought for a while, and then nods.

Jarl Hralfar makes his stop at the barracks that night to say, “Make sure you are packed and ready for travel.  We leave tomorrow morning for Fragruss.”

The Sand

W
e leave Nur’tokh without a backwards glance.  Titus will be marched to Deadfish Lake and buried in the barrows between the city and the lake.  None of us have any desire to attend, and though it would be necessary to show respect, Jarl Vaelus himself said that he would rather not attend.  He didn’t say it publicly, of course.

“So with the treaty, Tygnar is out of the war?” I clarify with Jarl Hralfar.  “Completely?”

“Yes,” answers Hralfar.  “They will no longer be a threat to us or our allies, assuming they honor our treaty.  Considering how we dealt with them before, however, they will think at least thrice before doing that again.”

“That’s why it’s called a treaty,” mutters Magnus.

Jericho rides in a supply cart at the back of the army with a steel rod tied to his thigh to keep it in place.  For almost the whole journey he stays in the cart, requiring assistance and a crutch on the rare occasions he leaves it.

The men are beginning to get more hostile to Ullrog the longer he stays in the army.  It’s like they’re getting frustrated at his ability to put up with whatever they throw at him, so they keep throwing more.  For instance, he found that someone had filled his pack with sand before we left, but simply dumped it out before using it.

Aela marches on my left.  So far I’m the only person she seems even remotely comfortable with in all of the army, but I don’t know why.  As we walk our hands brush past each other lightly.  I don’t react, but to look down at the stubs that serve as my ring and pinky fingers.  Aela withdraws hurriedly and tucks her hand by the strap of her pack, careful to look away.  I shake my head and look forward, over the peak of the next sandy ridge.

There is no road but the river, which we follow religiously.  We are wary of crocodiles, as they tend to roam the desert waters of the Tygnar River, but we never encounter any.

We set up camp hurriedly, anxious to get out of the hot sun.  I glance up at Aela as she pulls a rope on the tent and stakes it down into the sand.  The sand will do very little to hold the tent down if we got hit by a sudden sandstorm, but she does it anyway.  A bead of sweat drops from her nose and hits the ground, but is absorbed instantly by the hot sand.  When she finishes with the rope, she ducks just inside and takes a swig from her waterskin.  Then she lays out her bedroll on top of a blanket, sits on top of it, and proceeds to take off her boots to dump the sand from them.  She looks up just as I look away, to James, who has watched me observe the whole scene.

He raises an eyebrow and I shake my head, lifting the pole that I had been leaning on.  Then I walk to place it where it belongs in another soldier’s tent.

Another glance at Aela reveals she has gotten out her book and charcoal, and is drawing again.

~

Nathaniel speaks to me as we march the next day.  He begins with a mild comment that I’m assuming he expects me to respond to. “I envy Jericho.”

I’m taken aback.  Though I think I know the answer, I still ask “Why?”

“Because it’s over for him,” he answers.  “He doesn’t have to deal with all of this anymore.”

“But he won’t be able to walk again.”

“He will with a crutch.”

“Is that worth it?”

He pauses.  “It may be.  If it means that he won’t have to deal with this anymore.”

I remain silent.

Ullrog grunts as he empties the sand from his pack again the next morning.  He replicates the action with his boots and waterskin, and anything in his pack.  Everything had been filled to the brim; whoever had done it was an expert sneak and extremely persistent.  The orc shakes his head at me as he ducks back into the tent.

“How are you faring?” I ask Jericho before we begin our march.

“I’m here,” he answers from his perch in the cart.  “That’s what matters.”

I nod.  “Your leg alright?”

He winces as he shifts.  Then he says, “It hurts.  The sand rides smooth so I’m doing okay.  I’m just a little worried about how rough it’s gonna get when we get into Greendale.”

“We’ll be there soon.”

“Not soon enough.”

The air is dry and the sun is hot.  There’s always another dune behind the last, and it feels as though the return trip is taking us much longer.  By the time we get back to Fragruss, it will have been at least a month and a half, and all of us are desperate to see home.

“I need my lute,” says James as we sit in the shade of our tent.  The sun is setting, but its rays still beat down mercilessly.

“Some music would be nice,” Percival agrees.  Then he looks down, the longing expression resurfacing on his face.

Ullrog and Aela stare thoughtfully into the sand.  “What about you?” I ask.

Both of them look up.  Ullrog speaks first, “For music?”

“Yes.”

He thinks.  “Music good,” he finally says.  “To listen.”

“Do you play an instrument?”

He thinks again, and then says, “Yes.”

He leaves it at that, and I don’t want to prod him further.  Aela looks back down at the ground and says, “I’ve never really… had the time to appreciate it.”

“Hopefully you will soon,” I answer.

As soon as the sun disappears and the light fades, I get out of the tent and rest my bare feet on the sand, which has now cooled considerably.  Nathaniel follows me out and we look at the sky for only a moment.

Suddenly he asks, “Why don’t you do it?”

“Do what?” I respond.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he says.

“Sorry.  I don’t.”

“Yes you do.”

I shake my head.  “No idea.”

It’s his turn to shake his head, but as he does he says, “You don’t want to know, do you.”

My head tilts and my eyes narrow.  “What are you talking about?”

“The way you look at her,” he says with a slight smile.  “It’s obvious!”

I look back up at the stars.  “I don’t know what I feel, Nathaniel.”

“Is that it?” he asks.  “Or you don’t want to know?”

I don’t answer, and he silently goes back inside the tent.

What do I feel
? I ask myself.

To the west, the sand rolls through enormous dunes as far as I can see.  The river lies just to the east, always within sight, but beyond it the sand becomes mountainous and dark.

Clouds avoid the desert.  The sky is always clear blue and the sun is always bright yellow.  If any part of us isn’t covered, it will be bright red before we set up camp.  Despite our best efforts, most men end up with a sunburn somewhere on their bodies, usually their lower legs or forearms.   James is included in that group.

He winces as he sits down in the tent, leaning against his pack.  “I hate this desert,” he complains.  “I hate it.”

“Tell us how you really feel,” Nathaniel mutters, carving the stick again.  I can’t tell what he’s making, but it has been stripped of all bark and there are some designs across it I cannot recognize in the dim light.

“Blasted heat,” James fumes.  “Why’s it have to be so hot?  I would think it’s a different sun than the one in Greendale because it’s certainly not this hot up there.  And this blasted sand gets everywhere!  Look!”  He overturns his boot and a pile of sand trickles out.  Then he shifts on his bottom uncomfortably and continues, “Even gets in my personal space…”

Percival, relaxed against his pack, looks down with a chuckle.

Ullrog’s patience begins to crack.  Somebody knocks against his pack as he slings it onto his shoulders, and a couple of items fly from it and onto the ground.  The soldier continues on his way, ignoring the violent glower Ullrog stares into the back of his head.

The orc shakes his head and bends down to retrieve the items, but as he straightens up he is hit across the face with an apple thrown from an unknown assailant.  He exudes a low growl and picks up the apple.  Angrily, he surveys the camp for his attacker and, upon not finding him, crushes the apple in his fist and drops the squashed remains into the sand.  He wipes his hand on his pants as he walks away.

The soldiers are getting bolder against him.  I fear that his ability to ignore them will only make them go further and further until he finally retaliates.

Finally the sand ends on the horizon, and I see the gray and green of my home province.

“About time,” James mutters.  “It’s gonna take me forever to get this sand out of everything.”

Percival speaks as soon as we cross the border from Ha’avjah into Greendale.  “We can check the desert off of our list, Kadmus.”

I nod and agree, “Yes we can.  As much as I loved our visit, I sincerely hope I never have to go back.”

“Agreed,” he says.  “A little too hot for me.”

The army is weary after trekking through the desert for a little over a week, so our course is slower once we reach Greendale.  As we near Fragruss, our pace quickens and the men grow more and more anxious to see home.

I’m excited that we can actually build fires at night, as we lacked the fuel in the desert.  Dinner is hot.

“Tell me about this orphanage,” I ask Aela one night beside the fire.

“There’s nothing to tell,” she says.  “It was like any orphanage.”

“I’ve never been to an orphanage,” I respond.

She gives me a look and says, “And?”

“So tell me about it,” I reply.  “There’s something you need to get off your chest.”

She raises an eyebrow.  “You would know that how?”

I shrug.

She shakes her head and stares into the fire without a word.

“I want to learn about you,” I concede.  When she doesn’t reply I continue, “I’m your friend.  I’ll always be willing to listen.”  Her brow furrows like she’s thinking.  Then I head into the tent.

Clouds are the most exhilerating thing to see, aside from the rain they bring.  It starts to sprinkle and the entire army cheers.  Ullrog is silent but looks up to the heavens with a smile.  Aela does not react.

My heart warms when I see the mountains and the smell of pine replaces that of sage.  The air is fresh, especially after the showers from the clouds, and I take a deep breath to get the stuffy desert air completely out of my lungs.

Two weeks after we have entered Greendale, we meet the road that will lead us to Fragruss.  The army almost begins to run in anticipation.

Finally, over a month and a half after our departure, we enter the gates of Fragruss.