Dragonhammer: Volume II (30 page)

“Good,” I reply.  “I will let the men know.”

“As will I,” Genevieve says from the corner.  Up until now I had not noticed her presence.

“As I would expect,” Hralfar says.  I make to leave, but he addresses me, “Captain?”

I turn and give him my attention.

“I realize you are angry with the way that Sythian’s fate turned out-”

“That’s one way to say it,” I mutter under my breath.

He ignores me.  “-but I must ask you to take control of yourself.  Put aside any personal feelings and leave it in the past.  What is done is done and there is naught that can be done to change them, so there is no use in raging over something that you have no control over. If you keep up like this, your anger will destroy you.  You’re allowing it to corrupt you.  It would be a pity to lose my best soldier.”  He pauses and looks me right in the eye.  “You told me once, back in Fragruss, that Titus Swordbreaker was overcome by revenge.  That he needed to get past it and see sense.  You would do well to follow your own advice.”

I bow my head.  “Thank you, Jarl,” I say quietly.  Then I leave the room.

“He’s right, you know,” says a voice.  I look to see Genevieve walking right next to me.

I take a deep breath.  Two words breathe from my lips, sapping all of the willpower from my bones.  “I know.”

She’s silent for a few steps, and then says, “I don’t want to see this destroy you.  I fear for you.”

“You fear for
me
?”

She nods.  “You’ve become a symbol to this army.  To the people we’re fighting for.  You can’t let yourself regress into something unworthy of everything they have given you.”

Inside, my thoughts are a tempest. 
Don’t listen.  It’s your life.  What have they given me?  I know I shouldn’t.  Where would I be?  My brother is dead.  Sythian deserves death.

Calm down, Kadmus.

I force my mind to go blank and find that Genevieve is no longer beside me.  She must have turned to the side while I was trying to make sense of everything roiling within my head.

A deep breath pours from my open mouth. 
They’re right
, I realize. 
I am becoming what I have fought so hard against.
  The idea disgusts me, but I force myself to accept it. 
Change, Kadmus.  Make yourself better.

How do I do that?

Let go of your anger.

But how?

I search for an answer for several minutes.  Finally my mind pulls one word to the forefront of my thought. 
Forgive.

Immediately I recoil from the thought, but I don’t let myself forget the word.

The image of my dying father penetrates my broken mind.  He is speaking to me.  Then his hand goes limp as I hold it tightly.

How can I forgive them?

I see Nathaniel lying dead on the ground in a pool of his own gore.

It is not possible.

Why?

I take another deep breath.  Then I feel the heat.

It is the heat of a fire within me.  It’s an inferno that burns hotter with every passing day.  I do nothing to quench it.

Even if I do manage to eventually forgive,
I tell myself.

I will never forget.

The Tide

W
ind blows into my face.  I take a deep breath of the salty stuff and listen to the constant lapping of the waves at the airtight sides of our ship.  The sails flap every so often and gulls cry from the air.  By this time I’ve been aboard long enough to have gotten used to the constant rocking of the ship, but James once again is having stomach-related issues.

Diagrall had many of their ships at port in Balgr’s Fall, so we commandeered them when we took the city.  Now we have a sizeable fleet making way for Fort Rocksabre.  I do not captain my ship, as I lack the proper knowledge, but I am the military authority.  Jarl Hralfar sails on another; the ship to our left, to be exact, and Commander Magnus sails on the next ship over.

Unlike Captain Alastair’s cargo galleon, these are warships.

Very little fighting is done on the water, but the ships are outfitted with naval weaponry specifically designed to sink other ships.  We have one or two sleek-modeled boats with steel bows at the front, exclusively for ramming into the underbelly of enemy ships.  Another has an enormous hammer-like construct on the deck.  When activated, the hammer falls with the head over the side to smash any ships that are a little too close.  A series of ropes and levers allow the weapon to be lifted so it can deliver another blow.

My ship, along with most of the others, is outfitted with a few specialized ballistae.  The enormous bows can hold several bolts at a time, unleashing a horrible rain upon the enemy.  To top it off, every ship has a proper stock of tar with which to light arrows and bolts.

Not to mention a little too much ale.

I’ve managed to keep my soldiers under enough control that they leave the ale alone for the most part.  I don’t know how the other authorities are handling, but honestly I don’t really care.

James retches over the side again and I can’t help but feel sorry for him.  “You gonna be alright?” I call.

He waves his hand at me, but doesn’t turn or say anything.

We’re sailing north.  It will take us only four days to reach the fort if the wind is with us.

Aela leans on the portside railing, looking west.  The wind blows her hair elegantly and I catch myself staring.  I manage to look away before she notices my gaze and returns it.  I pretend to be looking at James on the other side of the ship.

You can’t afford the distraction.

Balgr’s Fall has already disappeared into the blue horizon.  We’re far enough from the shore that it only appears as a little gray line to the east.  Soon it will be out of sight.

It makes me nervous to be aboard a vessel such as this in the middle of the Gulf.  I trust the mechanics of the boat to keep us afloat, but I am afraid of what may happen were we to sink.  The water is a foe I cannot fight.

Ullrog stands at the bow with his arms folded across his chest.  His ponytail flutters lazily.

Percival leans on the starboard railing, looking east.

“You miss her?” I ask.

He nods, but says nothing.

My hand finds a place on his shoulder.  “You’ll see her again, Percival.  As sure as I’m standing here now.”

“But how long?” he says.  His stubble has gotten longer so he sports a very short dark beard.

“It’s always too long,” I reply.

“How do I know she won’t fall in love with someone else while I’m away?”

“I suppose you don’t.”

He nods, though that was obviously not what he wanted to hear.

“But at the rate she’s been writing you, she misses you just as much as you miss her.  If not more.”

A goofy grin pulls at his lip, and I am reminded of the way Gunther beamed stupidly at his wedding.  I recall the way Serena and Percival had looked at each other.  Such a bond should never be severed.  “You are lucky,” he says.  “You have her here with you.”

So far I have not admitted to him the correctness of his statement.  I do, however, look back at Aela, who is still leaning on the opposite railing.  “I can’t afford the distraction,” I say quietly.

“That’s a load of dingflies,” Percival retaliates.

I’m taken aback by his sudden sharpness.  “You saw what happened when he killed…” I begin.  “When Nathaniel died.”

Percival nods slowly.

“That’s what those feelings do to me,” I continue.  “They make me vulnerable.  They weaken me.  I can’t allow myself to make more of those connections.  It only gives them more opportunity to hurt me.”

“Would you be here without them?” he asks.

Without hesitation I reply, “No.”

“That’s my point,” he says.  “Those connections make you human.  You need them to cope.  If I’m right in my thinking, I’d say you need her as well.  You
need
the distraction.”

I do not reply.

Percival changes the subject abruptly by saying, “I wonder if they regret it.”

I’m puzzled and say, “If who regrets what?”

“If Diagrall regrets attacking Virfith.”

“Why would they?”

“Because if they hadn’t, you wouldn’t be here.  You’re a war hero, Kadmus.  Our cause owes a lot to you.  Many of us owe you our lives:  myself, Commander Magnus, and the Jarl included.”

My mind flicks back to a time probably six months ago, when I had been working in the forge with my father. 
I’m afraid
, he had said,
that the war is about to become much more real for us all.  But we’ll get through it.  No matter how it ends.

So far his prophecy has proven half correct.

A long breath is my only response to Percival’s remark.

A smile begins to creep on his lip.  “Or if they regret…”  He stops.

“Regret what?”

Reluctantly he continues, “…taking your father and brother from you.”

My brow furrows.

“I don’t think it has damaged you in the long run,” he says.  “It makes you stronger.  And that’s the last thing they want.”

I nod.  “I hope so, Percival.  I hope so.”

The wind on the sea is cold.  Summer is just beginning to come to a close, but the heat has not yet left the world.  It clings like it feels sorry that winter must come upon us in the coming months.

I run through our battle plan in the days I have before we reach the fort.

We are sailing Diagrall’s ships, so they may recognize us as their own.  If so, great.  If not, too bad.  We may be able to do some damage with the weapons aboard the ships, but they’d be ineffective against soldiers purely for accuracy reasons.

A mist has fallen over the gulf: a thick fog through which I cannot see across the entirety of the ship.  Convenient.  We keep our fleet together through our limited sight, and through our voices.  The ships stay within earshot.

As night falls, the mist partly clears.  The sky flickers with thousands of points of light, some of them colored and making fantastic shapes across the indigo canvas.  The moon is gone.  There are no clouds.

Land comes into sight, directly in front of us.

Some of the men get uneasy.  They grip their weapons with white knuckles and rock back and forth on their feet.  Most of them are asleep below deck.

A tall pointed ridge comes into sight, followed by a rocky shoreline.  Then we see the fort on the left of the ridge.

“Wake the men,” I command.  “It is time.”

The Battle for Fort Rocksabre

T
he fort is small.

It’s a simple box built into the side of the ridge.  As we near, I notice two towers protruding from large rocks in the water with bridges connecting their tops to the crenellated roof of the fort.  Atop the towers, I note small catapults.  Another tower rises next to the ridge with a dark pavilion at the top.  A lighthouse.

A branch of the fort sticks out further to the left along the shore.  Torches light the infrequent windows, and guards walk with little points of light along the top of the fort.

This will be interesting.

The shoreline is treacherous.  Boulders stick out at odd angles and line the sandy bottom.  We will not be able to get in very close with the ships that way, but it appears to be the only landing for at least a mile.  To the left of the beach is another rocky cliff, topped with a forest that curves northward.

Following orders I receive from Jarl Hralfar’s ship, I command our ship be stopped.  This, of course, is not instantaneous.

Thus far, we have not been spotted.  The mist still clings to the water, partially hiding our ships.  The stars offer little light.  So far so good.

We lower a rowboat from the starboard side, filled with soldiers.  Each of the ships does likewise.  Within moments they disappear into the mist.

I glance anxiously at Jarl Hralfar’s ship.  Then I gain the attention of the men standing behind the ballistae on my own vessel.

Shortly I gesture to the catapults on top of the towers.

They take aim, and I stop them. 
Wait.

I hear the water.  The wind.

Then there’s a loud splash.

One of the soldiers curses and we look to the left, where one of our own is floundering in the water, having hopelessly missed the rowboat.

“Did they hear?” one of the soldiers whispers.

I hear something coming from the fort.  “Yes,” I reply.  “But they do not know it was us.”

I catch a glimpse of a man running with a torch along the top of the fort, towards the lighthouse.  Then the mist obscures him from view.

“Continue on,” I command quietly.  “Into the next rowboat.”

The second rowboat fills with soldiers and lowers into the water soundlessly.  Aela, James, Percival, and Ullrog stand beside me, waiting to follow me into our respective rowboat.

A sudden flare of light.

In the darkness it seems as if the sun itself had decided to pay us a visit.  I am temporarily blinded and my eyes take a moment to adjust.  My face falls at what I see.

A fire roars at the top of the lighthouse, illuminating the ridge and tower in a large radius.  Then an enormous beam of light, shone through a lens like one on the end of a telescope, shines right onto my ship.

“FIRE!” I command, abandoning all secrecy.  “FIRE NOW!”  The startled men at the ballistae hurriedly let loose their payload towards the catapults.

The first bolts are aimed too high.  They shoot over the top of the weapon now taking aim at us.  My heart drops into my stomach when I watch something take fire in the bowl of the catapults.  They turn and point straight at us.

I’m close enough to hear the shouts of men atop the fort.

“INTO THE BOATS!” I shout.  “EVERYONE IN!  NOW!”  I don’t need to tell the soldiers again.  Hurriedly they pile into the next rowboat.

“You too,” I command, looking at my friends.

“Not without you,” says Percival, holding up his sword and shield.

“TAKE COVER!” a soldier shouts.

Percival’s eyes widen and he raises his shield.  I barely have time to turn and see why.

A volley of arrows, tipped with tar, flames dancing in the air, arcs directly towards us.  I grab Aela and jump behind the mast as Ullrog crouches behind a barrel and James darts under the stairs that lead onto the bridge of the ship.

Aela is shocked to find herself pressed against me behind the mast, but there is not time to say anything.  The arrows thud into the wood all around, ripping through the sails and setting them aflame with a great
whoom
.

Each arrow is a point of flame, charring the wood.  The tar leaks onto the wood and it catches fire, and I know the ship is lost.

“Come on then,” I urge, trying to find time before the next volley of arrows comes.  Without bothering to see if she is okay with it, I throw Aela into the boat and gesture for Percival to enter next, and he reluctantly does as I say.

James jumps on next without persuasion, and a glance at Ullrog tells him I will follow.  He nods and enters the boat.  I hear a monstrous clang.

“COME ON, KADMUS!” Percival bellows, leaning out of the hanging boat to yank me in.

“I’ll be on the next one,” I comfort.  “I have to see to the other soldiers.  Go.”  Aela tries to object, but I interrupt, “That’s an order.”

Then I release the boat and it drops into the water.

Orange light captures my attention.  A fireball the size of a boulder rockets through the air and straight towards the ship.  The other catapult releases its identical load.

Every soldier still aboard the ship, myself included, sprints for the last boat.

The fireball hits.

There’s a monstrous crash as fire explodes outward and the boulder smashes through all layers of the ship.  It pounds on my eardrums relentlessly, even after the boulder has hit the water below with a tremendous hiss.

The second fireball makes contact and a wave of flame throws itself across the deck.  Men fall into the flame and catch fire, screaming.  I smell burning flesh.

The wave of fire burns towards me.

Then I turn and jump.  I am not able to brace myself for the cold of the water.

I gasp for breath as I break the surface, fighting hard; my armor and weapons weigh me down.  I taste salt on my lips.

The ship roars like an inferno and with the noise of a tumbling tree, the center mast tips and falls into the water.  Beams and boards crack.  Frantically I swim away from the sinking ship.

The mist still clings to the water, so I am unable to see where the rowboats have gone.  Tracing my mental picture, I begin to swim for shore.

Slowly I begin to feel a current on my legs.

No.

The sinking ship, as it dives into the deep, creates a vortex that sucks in everything within reach.  Unfortunately, I happen to be just within its grasp.

Is this how I am to die?
I think. 
Drowned by a sinking ship?

I continue to fight forward.  The vortex is still weak, but it won’t be for much longer.  I continue to make headway but my pace is slowing, though I fight ever harder.

I’m not going to make it.

Despair begins to overtake me.  The feeling seeps into my bones and begins to penetrate my heart.

No.  I will not die here.  My job is not yet finished.

Another push lurches me only a few more inches forward in the water, and as it happens, I see my salvation.

A rock.

I grope forward, reaching as far as my hands can stretch.  My fingers almost brush it, when a wave suddenly pushes me forward.

I make contact with the rock roughly, but just manage to grip the edges of the rock with my aching fingers.  I hang on tightly, trying to pull myself up, though I am dazed by the impact.

The ship dives beneath the surface and there is a blast of water that surges skyward as the sea swallows its prey.  The glowing orange lights of the fire hiss loudly as the waters of the ocean beat back and finally subdue them.

An impending wave enters my vision, but I lack the strength to protect myself.

In a feeble attempt to stay alive, I throw myself towards the rear of the rock.  I am saved from hitting the spire again, but the wave throws me forward.

I cannot control my path.  More rocks appear from the mist.  I hit one and go under, but only for a few seconds and come up gasping.  Just in time to run headlong into yet another.

I hardly have the brainpower to cling to the rock.  Another wave crashes against my back, but I have stabilized myself to lie with my stomach against a relatively flat part of the rock and the wave breaks over me less-than-harmlessly.

My gaze travels upward, searching frantically for the shore.  I must be close.

The left tower, protruding from an enormous boulder sticking out of the seawater, stands directly above me.  I look just in time to see a well-aimed ballista bolt hit the right-hand catapult.

A beam gives and I hear a crack, and the fireball that had been loaded and ready to fire flings from the damaged catapult, but in the wrong direction.

You’ve got to be kidding.

I dive into the water to my left, and as I surface yet again I watch the flaming ammunition bounce from the rock where I had lain, and into the water with a crash and a puff of steam.

The water throws me forward again, and I find myself under the waves.  My strength has all but left me and I have no power to bring myself to the top.

I hit the bottom.  The salt stings my eyes and refuses to allow me the privilege of sight. 
I cannot die like this.

Holding my breath, with the last of my strength, I tense my legs and jump as hard as I can towards the surface.

I come up with my hands and knees on the sand.

My hair streams with saltwater and I cough up a good bit of the stuff, steadily crawling my way out of the water and onto the dry sand.  For the first time I find myself drained of all strength, and I cannot raise myself to my feet.

Where am I?

The fort sits to my right, above a rocky cliff from which the sandy beach curves.  The rock-strewn water lies just in front of it.

The cries of men come from the fort, but also from the beach.

Then the arrows.

Must find cover.

With a groan I force myself to my feet, and then stumble along the beach.  I catch sight of several soldiers; many rowboats lie on the sand, most of them turned onto their side to provide cover.

An arrow whizzes past me and hits the sand harmlessly.  Then my legs give out and I fall to the sand.

“There! It’s the captain!”

“Get him!  Bring him in!”

Suddenly I feel hands on my arms and shoulders, and I am dragged through the sand and behind an overturned boat.  Arrows thud on the wood.

They lay me on my back.  “Thank you,” I manage, viewing my rescuers.

“Quite the swim,” one of them replies.

“We can’t lose you yet,” replies the other.  Her voice seems familiar.  My wearied and beaten brain processes the voice, but cannot remember whose it is until she comes into view.  “In fact, we may need you to fight,” Genevieve continues.  “The fort is not yet ours.”

“What’s the status?” I reply.

She gives me a look asking me to rephrase.

“Where’s the entrance into the fort?  How many soldiers do we have, how many archers, and how far from the fort?”  I make no effort to move.

“Just up the hill,” she replies.  “It’s not too far, maybe over a hundred yards.  So far we don’t have many soldiers.  They’re still coming in the rowboats, only some archers.  Not enough.”

“Very well then.  The catapults are down?”

“One of them is.  The other is still firing.”

“You have the archers focusing on the catapult?”

“It’s a little high, but with a good shot and some luck we may be able to get the operators off of the tower.”

“Good,” I grunt as I get up onto my elbows.  “You hear from Jarl Hralfar yet?”

“Haven’t seen him,” she says as she offers me her hand.

I stare at it for only a moment, and then take it replying, “Hope he’s alive.”  She pulls and with some effort, I stand.

“What made you want to take a swim?” she asks as my form straightens, towering over her.

“It seemed the better option than to die aboard a flaming ship.”

“Just curious,” she responds.  “You ready for a fight?”

“No,” I reply cynically.  “I’m beaten, sore, and tired.”

“Pity,” she says.  “The fight hasn’t even started yet.”

“You have a plan to get us up to the gate?” I ask.  “Without getting skewered with arrows?”  Another of the projectiles hits the underside of the rowboat loudly, the tip trying its hardest to break all the way through.

“So far, no,” she says.  “You’ve got any ideas?”

A soldier falls dead, an arrow piercing his chest as he runs from the arriving rowboat.

“Only that we use these as shields.  If we can get enough men, we can carry them up while hiding underneath.”

“Then how do we break in the door?”

“Don’t know.”  I scan the beach for any sign of my friends.  I do not see them, but there are other rowboats further down that I cannot see behind.  “How thick is the door?”