Dragonhammer: Volume II (22 page)

The men on the wall are giving chase.  Those with bows are taking aim.  We find ourselves grossly outnumbered in the middle of an enemy legion.

“Run,” I command.

We weave through streets and allies, trying desperately to find somewhere to hide or make a stand until Jarl Hralfar can make it through the gate.  Every attempt is for naught as there are soldiers around every corner.

A tremendous crash reverberates through the city and shakes the ground.  “There are the catapults,” one of my men gasps. 

Our breathing is loud and ragged.  Our weapons become heavy in our hands.  Our legs burn beneath our panicked bodies.  My lungs feel as if they are ablaze.

“In here!” I shout, pulling a door open suddenly.  The others follow me inside and it is only after we bar the door that we are allowed a few blissful seconds of solace.

Our numbers have been cut dramatically.  I am saddened by the sight but am forced to other thoughts, because there are more pressing matters at the moment.

“Dragonhammer’s in here!”

“We’ve got him!”

“Nowhere to run!” one of them shouts.

I scan the room.

We’re in what appears to be a barracks or armory.  That was no mistake of mine.

The entire building is one room with a tall peaked ceiling and a couple of large wooden beams spanning the distance from wall to wall.  There are many rows of weapons and shields, but I do not care for those.

“Where do we go?” Nathaniel whimpers, jumping as something slams against the door.

I shake my head in frustration.  “I don’t know,” I finally mutter.

A couple of the windows shatter, and we take cover behind the rows of weapons as enemy arrows begin shooting through the shards of glass.

I pace angrily, tearing through the aisles of weaponry, looking for anything that could get us out of this impossible mess.

When I near the back of the armory, the clomp of my boots on the wooden floor becomes deeper.  Only a stride later, the sound has returned to normal.

I look in disbelief at the rug on the floor, but without wasting any time I pull it aside.  Beneath it lays a trapdoor.

I open it quickly and peer inside.  “A tunnel,” I whisper in disbelief.

“What are the chances?” James says with a smile as he jumps down.

“Don’t know, but I’m not arguing,” Percival replies as he follows.

“Khaoth is with us,” I say quietly.

“No,” Nathaniel disagrees.  I give him an odd look.  “He’s with you,” my brother finishes.  Then he follows Aela down into the tunnel.

“The gate’s been breached!” I hear from outside.  The banging on the door only intensifies.

Ullrog follows after, and I jump in after him.  Just as the trapdoor slams shut, the doors burst inward and the building floods with men wondering how on earth Dragonhammer has yet again escaped from their clutches.

James holds a torch that he must have lit while the others were climbing down.  “Where’s it go?” he asks.

“Onward,” I reply.

The Battle of Balgr’s Bastion

“
W
hat’s this tunnel here for?” Nathaniel asks as we hurry through the dirt passageway.  Roots hang from the walls and ceiling, and the occasional rock sticks from the sides.

“Could it be a tunnel to access the sewage?” James asks.

“No,” I reply.  “It’s all made of dirt.  Those tunnels are usually made of stone to prevent erosion, and to keep the sewage from soaking into the ground.  If I were to guess, I would say it’s an escape or access tunnel that will lead us directly into the Bastion.  Access more likely, judging that one would probably want to escape outside of the city rather than into the middle.”

“So this will bring us into the Bastion?” James asks.

“Don’t know,” I respond.  “That was a guess that we will prove right or wrong in a minute or two.”

After an intense minute of running, the passage ends abruptly.  James’s torch flickers over the uneven walls and reveals an old wooden ladder that leads up to a closed trapdoor.

“Everyone ready?” I ask quietly.  My small group nods slowly or looks at the floor.  “Good.  Time to see where this leads.”

Tentatively I lift the trapdoor and peer between the floor and the wood.  The hinges stick and creak loudly so I stop lifting as soon as I have even the slightest crack to see through.  It is dark and I can see nothing.  Lifting the trapdoor, I find that we have surfaced in a closet of some kind and the door is closed.

“Clear,” I whisper to the soldiers below, setting the trapdoor down softly on the ground.  I grasp Percival’s hand and hoist him up, and as he helps up the others, I begin to open the door.  A group of soldiers marches past us and turns to go the opposite way down the hall, and I barely duck back into the closet in time.  As soon as they are out of earshot, I open the door and we trickle into the hallway.  I survey our condition.

Ullrog breathes slowly, his eyes flicking about warily.  Percival stands at ease with his sword and shield hanging at his sides.  James looks similar, but his hands are tense and he grips his shield and sword firmly.  Aela glances around nervously.  Nathaniel looks up at me and shakes his head; I remember the conversation we had only an hour before.  Aside from them, only six of my soldiers stand with me.  I have no way of knowing what has befallen Genevieve or any of the others.

“Let’s go,” I mutter.

We tread down the stone hall carefully, peeking around every corner.  Soon we come upon a white spiral staircase, but it is not until we emerge on the next floor that we run into trouble.  “Get back,” I whisper, waving for the others to back down the stairs.  I follow them and hear the captain only a few yards in front of me say, “…get everyone here.  Position archers on all floors.  If we lose the Bastion, we have lost the city.”

“Yes sir.”  A soldier runs towards us and I duck behind the center pillar of the spiral staircase.  His footsteps clack upward, and I realize he has gone another floor up.

There comes a cry from across the room.  “They are coming!”

The soldiers start to panic.  “Shut the gate!  Shut the gate!”

“No!” the captain objects.  “Jarl Sythian has yet to return!”  I hear his footsteps getting farther away and peek from around my cover.  He has exited the stairwell and I seize the chance.

All of us dart around the corner and up the stairs, onto the next floor.

We find ourselves on a balcony that overlooks the entrance hall.  The gate sits to our right, wide open.  Their soldiers flood in.

“We have to find cover,” Percival says urgently.

“Yes,” I agree.  “Now.”

Quickly we make our way around the back of the stairwell and into the small room to the left, where we hide behind various barrels and crates.  Tens of footsteps sound on the stone floor, but they do not enter.  Instead they continue onto the balcony and begin to line the Bastion.

“If we don’t shut it now-” I hear above the noise.

“Then we will lock Jarl Sythian out of Balgr’s Bastion,” finishes the captain’s voice.  “We cannot take that risk!  That gate stays open until he returns!”

“What if he doesn’t?” comes the cry.  “They are coming!”

There is no answer as the captain ponders the panicked words of his soldiers.  The outside fighting dominates any other noise until the captain says, “Shut the gate.”

“No way,” James mutters.

“Close the gate!” the captain commands.

I take a chance and peer around the corner.  The captain stands on the far side of the gate, which is being drawn closed by a couple of soldiers on each door.  The fighting gets louder.  Just before the gates close, there’s a bang and the nearest gate stops as if a boulder had suddenly dropped in its way.  One figure shoves through the gap, catches the gate as he swings around, and slams the thing shut.  “Lock the gate!” the figure dictates forcefully.  The soldiers stare at him in disbelief.  “Lock the gate!” he roars.  Six of the soldiers mobilize quickly and place an enormous wooden beam into metal holsters across the doors, effectively baring them shut.

“Who gave the order to shut the gate?” Sythian hisses.

Nobody says a word.  There’s pounding on the gate.

“Who gave the order…” Sythian repeats calmly, “to shut the gate?”

He looks at the captain who stands at attention.  “Captain,” says the Jarl.  “Was it you?”

The captain hesitates.  Finally he says, “Aye, sir.”

Sythian nods as he slowly circles the petrified captain.  One word permeates the air.  “Why?”

The poor captain struggles to find words, but is unable to come up with anything fast enough to satisfy Sythian.  The Jarl’s hand dives to his belt and emerges with a dagger that glints in the torchlight, but I see it for less than a second.  I cannot watch.

A nasty gurgling noise bursts through the hall.  When I next look, Sythian is cleaning his dagger on the cape of the captain, who now lies in a pool of his own blood.

“We’re going to open that gate,” I state.

“And how do you say we’re going to do that?” asks Percival.

I smirk.  “Do exactly as I say.”

Silently I watch Nathaniel, James, Percival, Aela, and the six soldiers steal silently back down the stairwell and out of sight.  I can only hope that the rest of the plan goes accordingly.

There is a tense minute of uncertainty.  I trade several looks with Ullrog who stands next to me, concealed within the room.  The soldiers talk casually.  There are bangs on the gate.  No sign of the others.

Until we hear a cry from the far side of the room.

“Here!  They’re here!  Inside!” the soldier screams.

Simultaneously every soldier begins exclaiming things like:

“How?!”

“Not possible!”

“In here?”

“Where?”

“Did you see them?!”

There’s a clang and the ring of steel on steel, which answers most of the above questions. Every soldier draws their sword, but is disoriented and unsure of the fight.

“How many are there?”

“Is it Dragonhammer?”

“Did they find a way through?”

“Fight!” thunders Sythian.  “Drive them out!  Kill them all!”

The soldiers scurry down the stairs and into the main entrance hall, where I watch them turn and run into the hall opposite of the front gate.

I pray silently to Khaoth that my friends will come out of this battle alive.

The sounds of battle begin from the rear of the hall.  Yells of men as they fall.  I hear a familiar grunt and recognize Nathaniel’s voice.  Terrified, I chance a glimpse over the railing and to the fight, to catch sight of him slamming a foe’s head against the wall and then turning tail to flee down the hall.

“Raah!” Sythian snarls.  “Bring them down you incompetent fools!”  When his soldiers prove ineffective, he charges forward to join the fray.

My fear for my friends is redoubled, and that’s when I nod to Ullrog.

We charge out of the room and I dart down the stairs.  When I reach the bottom, I look about for Ullrog as he neglected to follow me down.  His immense form lands on the stone floor just in front of me, having jumped the guardrail from the floor above.

Each of us grasps one end of the vast wooden beam used to bar the gate.  “Hey!” I hear.  “There’s more!”

I am forced to ignore them, as the job at hand will require all the time I can give it.

Together we heave, pulling the beam upward.  The weight takes me by surprise and even Ullrog takes a moment to lift his side.  A soldier is nearing.  My legs quiver and begin to burn.  Light flashes on the sharp edge of a sword.  My knuckles are white.  The weapon rises only feet from me.

With a final heave we lift the beam from its hold and Ullrog throws his end to the side, allowing me to swing the enormous thing into the five soldiers that had been charging me.  It isn’t slowed even the tiniest bit by their bodies.  None of them get up.

A tremendous crash echoes through the hall as I release the beam, unable to hold on.  It smashes against a pillar and spins, but slams the ground before it can reach the wall.

Without hesitation Ullrog and I each grab a door and pull.  They swing on the hinges easily and I look onto the street to see our army standing, shocked that the door had opened seemingly of its own accord.

Breathing heavily I turn, draw my hammer and ready myself for battle.

Sythian looks in disbelief at the open gate and at me.  Rage fills his face and he glances down the hall.  Then he charges, but not towards us.

The second he whips around the corner, I sprint after him.

He cannot reach them
, I command myself. 
You cannot let him
.

It was part of the plan that they would run.  I knew they would be followed.  That was really the point, to allow Ullrog and I time to open the gate.  Now I must make sure I can reach them in time to stop the enemy from killing them.

“Dragonhammer!” comes the cry.  I slam the soldier in the chest, almost at the neck, and he hits the ground with a grunt.  Ullrog slices an arm from a soldier and the poor man falls to the side, screaming before the orc ends his misery.

The spike on the end of the hammer impales someone in the stomach and I throw him into another soldier before bringing my hammer down on the helm of another.  The arc was wide and he didn’t expect such a vertical strike.  He dies instantly, and blood seeps from his dented helm onto the cold floor where he lies.

By this time our army is beginning to flood the Bastion relentlessly.  Jarl Hralfar fights at their head.  The night is beginning to brighten as dawn approaches, but the sky is overcast and little light makes it through to the streets.

“Should’ve known it was you,” the Jarl says, almost sarcastically.  “I’m just glad to see you are alive.”

“As am I,” I reply.  “But our enemies most certainly are not.”  Without another word I run for the hall where I had seen Jarl Sythian chase after my friends.  Ullrog follows close behind.

Like a wild beast I throw anyone in my path to the side.  Ullrog takes care of the leftovers.  Sythian takes a left up ahead and I follow with my blood pounding through my veins.

I leap up the staircase and follow the square spiral up several flights until I see Sythian dart around the corner.

A sword swings at me as I round the corner, and I am barely able to duck beneath the perilous blow before reaching out with a strike of my own.

Sythian parries the swipe and we trade blows for only seconds.  I hear Ullrog’s pounding steps on the stairs, which is when Sythian decides that a fight may not be the best idea.

He pulls a dagger as I step forward and swing.  After dodging the blow, he swipes quickly at my face with the blade.  Unable to bring my hammer up fast enough, I throw my weight backward with all of my might.

I stumble back as Ullrog bounds through the arch and into the hall.  After regaining my balance, I touch the bridge of my nose gingerly and my fingers come away with blood on their tips.

“You okay?” Ullrog rumbles.

“Fine,” I reply.  “He nicked me.  I’ll kill him for it.”

With even more determination, we resume our chase.

Sythian leads us to the left and up a large flight of stairs; fighting breaks out as we come upon my friends.

They appear to have run into a large group of soldiers who had been hiding out on the upper levels.  Percival looks behind just as Sythian emerges on the stairs, and reacts fast enough to knock aside a stab that would have killed Nathaniel.  He and Sythian trade a few blows, but before the enemy Jarl can land a fatal strike, Aela uses both her swords to direct his attention to her.  Soldiers are following Ullrog and me up the stairs, of which army I do not know.

Sythian gives Aela a look as their blades lock.  His eyes narrow and he mouths something to himself, but before he can say anything, he is forced away from her by my monstrous hammer.