Dragonhammer: Volume II (6 page)

Her eyes glance to the sleeping form of Ullrog.  “What are you thinking about?” she asks.

I hesitate.  “Why?”

“You seem lost,” she says.  “What are you thinking about?”

I pause before answering her.  “There has been enough blood shed,” I say.  “Especially by these hands and this hammer.”  She and I both glance to the hammer lying next to my bedroll.  “Why shed more?”

“Why did you start?” she asks.

“Because they killed my father,” I respond.  “They brought me hatred.  Anger.  Grief.  They must die.  Feel what I feel.”

“Revenge, then?”

“I will kill them with a vengeance they have never seen.  No more will such atrocity plague the land as it has.”

“What wrong has Titus done you?” she asks innocently.

I think for a moment.  “He believes in the same things his father did.  He has brought himself to battle against me.”

“Because you killed his father.  He fights for the same reasons you do.”

She’s right.  I find myself mulling over her words, and realize that I myself had been thinking them before I had gone to sleep.  “His father deserved death,” I respond.  “He was the evil pawn of an evil ruler, doing horrible things.”

“Are you saying that Titus deserves to die for his father’s actions?”

“Of course not.  I cannot blame Titus for what he feels.  I feel the same thing.”

“It seems like you’ve already given this some long thought.”

“What’s your point?”

“Haven’t you already found vengeance here, with Tygnar?”

For a long moment I do not answer.  “I do not know,” I whisper.

“Will you kill Titus?”

“I would rather not.”

She responds instantly, as if she had been expecting that response, “But will you kill him?”

I think.  She’s about to ask again when I respond, “If I must.”

She nods slightly and says nothing more.  She only lies back down.

“If I must,” I whisper to myself.

The Battle of Balgr’s Monument

I
wake a little before dawn.  My body knows the time and wakes me accordingly.  Without wasting time, I eat something and don my armor, given to me when I was advanced to captain.  I leave the cape off, as I find it bothersome.

Percival, James, and Jericho each shake my hand with words of encouragement.  Nathaniel does likewise.  “Come back, okay?” he says.

“Of course,” I reply.  “Our family will not lose another member this day.”

He smiles and claps my left shoulder.  Aela only nods to me.  Ullrog is nowhere to be seen.

“Fight well,” says Hralfar.  “I know you will.  Though I fear what the opposition will do when they are again leaderless.”

“There is no need for fear,” I reply.  “Look forward with courage.  Let them come or flee as they will.  In either case, let us be standing, sword in hand.”

The corner of Hralfar’s lip goes up and he gives me a nod.  A warhorn sounds from the monument: my cue.

Feeling oddly reminiscent of the time I walked out to fight Lucius Swordbreaker’s champion, I stride towards the monument.  As I climb the hill I see that the area inside the circle of tall stones is paved with cobblestone.  In the middle, the obelisk stands.

It’s only about three feet wide at the base, but it looms at least thirty feet above my head.  A bronze plaque sits on the obelisk at about the height of my hip.  It reads simply, “Herein lies Balgr the Great.”

I have no recollection of a character named ‘Balgr’ in any of the legends or stories I know.  It matters little, however, so I shrug it off and wait for Titus to show himself.

He already stands next to the monument.  “You came,” he says.  As he walks toward me, I notice he wears the restored armor of his father.  It’s made of steel, but somehow has a dark sheen.  The edges are pointed and black, and in the center an orange scorpion is emblazoned:  the insignia of Tygnar.  The plume on his helm is orange, but his cape is black with an identical scorpion sewn into it.  His hand rests on the pommel of his sheathed weapon.

“Of course I came,” I respond.  “I’m offended you thought I wouldn’t.”  My left hand moves towards a throwing knife on my belt and my right moves towards the head of my hammer, above my right shoulder.  The makeshift sheathe holds it just high enough for me to take hold and unsheathe it.

He turns, revealing a large circular shield strapped to his left arm.  It’s the same color as his armor, with similar patterns and the scorpion in the middle.

“I’ll come back to that,” he says cryptically.  “But you are here, and that’s what matters.”

“I suppose,” I answer.  “Now let’s get this done with.  No need for words.”

“Very well,” he says.  “As you wish.”

My hammer flies out of its sheath as he whips out his mace and slashes at me in one smooth movement.  I jump backwards and grip the shaft of my hammer strongly, gaining my balance and waiting for him to strike again.

I don’t have to wait long.  The shaft of my weapon blocks a strike, and on the second I push him away and counter to the right.  He blocks with his shield and it dents with a loud
ding
.  I block another strike and advance, pushing him further back.  As he reaches around the side to beat in my rib cage, I knock his mace away with the butt of my hammer and thump him in the chest with a
crack
.  He falls to his knees grunting, but I stop as his weapon clatters to the ground.

“Kill me,” he growls, clutching his chest, staring at the ground.  “Kill me!”

“Why?” I respond.

“For honor’s sake,” he says lamely.  “Let me go the way my father did.”

“Your father fell out of a window three stories high,” I reply.

“You killed him.”

“Yes.  I did.”

“Finish it then!” he roars from the ground.  “Kill me!”

“Surrender,” I reply.

He looks up at me with an expression that says clearly, “What?”

“Surrender,” I repeat.

“No,” he says.

“Why?”

“I cannot be a coward.  I must accept death as it is given to me, and here it is plainly.  If I surrender now, I will be labeled as the Jarl who would not die for his people.”

“For his people?  If I kill you, your people will come to a war against us that they cannot win.”

“That they cannot win?  I’ll have-”

“You know that is true,” I interrupt.  “If I kill you they will come against us until there is nobody of your clan left.  Is that heroic?  Is that honor?”

“You killed my father!” he growls.

“And he killed mine!” I roar.  “There is nothing we can do about past actions, but you do not have to die today!  Do not condemn your people to an endless war!  Make peace and retreat!  Surrender!”

He glares holes into the ground.  I offer my right hand, hefting my hammer in my left.  Then he takes it and I help him to his feet.  As he rises, he grasps his mace.  It dangles to his side.

I nod to him.  “You have chosen wisely,” I say.

Then I turn to walk back towards the army.  I stop when I hear his voice.

“I will not rest…” he seethes.  “Until either you or I lie lifeless in the earth!”

He charges and his mace flies out of his hand with a single swing from my hammer. I knock him off-balance and then slam my shoulder into his chest, breaking at least a couple of ribs.  He yells as he falls to the earth in a crumpled heap, “Now!”

As I stare, his form begins to rise.  Hideous laughter erupts from his throat as archers step out from behind the stones, each one bearing a crossbow trained on me.

I grimace at him as one of them helps him to his feet.  “Surrender,” he snarls.

“You cheated,” I growl.

“Is that a no?” he asks mockingly.  “Well, let’s see if the great Dragonhammer can make his way out of this one.”

The corner of my lip turns up as I count out the number of archers and judge some distance.  Titus raises his hand with an open palm.  As soon as he closes his fist, they will fire.

I drop my hammer and spin around him, grabbing him around the chest and pulling him down.  Then I hold a throwing knife to his neck.

“I think I just did,” I seethe.

“Don’t fire!” Titus shouts frantically.  “Don’t shoot!”

“That’s what I thought,” I mutter.  “Tell them to unload their crossbows.”

“Kill me,” he says viciously.

“Unload your weapons!” I command.  “Or he dies!”

Most of the archers loose their bolts into the ground at their feet.

“Now get them to put down their weapons,” I mutter.

“Never,” he gasps.

“Put down your weapons!” I dictate.  The archers look at each other and some of them make to put their weapons down, but don’t.  I tighten my grip and begin to press the blade into his throat.  “Put them down!” I roar.  As if to accentuate my command, Titus gasps as the blade puts pressure on his throat.

Their crossbows hit the ground.

“Good,” I mutter.  Then I walk backwards, holding the knife to Titus’s throat.  I don’t walk far before I find that Jarl Hralfar and many of my men stand with me, some of them archers.

“You can let him go now,” the Jarl says.  “He is of no use to us.”

“But he will always be fighting us,” I reply.  “He will not stop.  I may as well kill him and end it here.”

“What about what you said out there?  His people coming to fight you?”

“They may be a little less hard-headed as he.  In any case, I grow weary of his empty words.”

“Do as you will,” says the Jarl.  “Let the consequences come.”

Three words ring in my head. 
If I must.

Then I release him.  I throw him forward so that he lands on his hands and knees, coughing blood into the ground.  “No…” I hear him whisper.

“You are to leave the war,” commands the Jarl.  “You have sought our destruction, and we have sought only our own defense.  If there is any more offense against us or our people, we will seek your destruction as you have sought ours.  Is that understood?”

Titus shudders.

Hralfar takes a deep breath and repeats, “I said, is that understood?!”

“Yes,” he whispers.

“Good,” the Jarl says.  Then, turning to me, he says, “Come.  We are done here.”

I retrieve my hammer from the ground and return to the Jarl. 

There’s a rustle.  I look back and see Titus sitting up, leaning on the monument.  Slowly he worms his way up until he is standing.  Then he raises his open palm and glares at me with vile loathing.  As his fist closes, the archer closest him blows into a curved horn, blasting one long baritone note into the sky.  There’s a roar as his army begins to charge and their line runs forward.

“No matter which way this was going to turn out, he was going to attack,” the Jarl realizes.  “Perhaps there is no other way to resolve this but by bloodshed.”

“Very well,” I mutter.  “If it’s a war he wants, it’s a war he’ll get.”

Their line runs up the hill and around the monument as we make our way down to our army on the other side.  “Stand strong!” the Jarl commands.  “Stand strong!”  He waits for the enemy to reach the base of the hill before shouting, “Charge!”

Then our army charges with thunder.

I run with our front line, but I don’t shout like many of them do.  “Time to end this,” I mutter.

Then with a crash the armies collide.

They have the upper ground.  We fight upwards, towards the monument, but the slope of the hill gives our archers a clear shot of most of their army.  Though the hill is tall, it is not steep, and slowly we fight our way up.

Their archers shoot from the top of the hill, but they can only shoot out towards the expanse of our army.  If they try to hit our line, they will kill their own.

I smash in the helmet of an oncoming soldier and bend backward to avoid a slash.  Then I spin out of the bend and slam the attacking soldier in the side, flooring him instantly.  I drive the spike of my hammer into the next and fling him to the side like paper.

Nathaniel
, I think.  Two more men fall victim to my hammer as I turn to look for my brother, but I do not see him.  Percival fights to my left with James and Jericho beside him.  Relief fills me as I see Nathaniel emerge from behind the falling body of his latest opponent.  He pulls his hammer up to continue the fight, and gives me a nod as he does so.

I do not see Aela.

Another breastplate is dented, another shield knocked aside, and another finished with a slam in the shoulder.  After another two, I turn to try and get a glimpse of Aela, but am unable to find her.

A soldier swings his sword, but I spin away from the blow, grab his hand, and then twist him into a boulder.  He goes unconscious as his head hits the rock.

An archer jumps onto the rock from the other side and raises his armed crossbow, pointing it at my heart.  He’s too high for me to reach.  He knows this and a bit of a smile starts to form on his lips.

My throwing knife juts from his neck and he keels over the edge of the bluff, landing on one of his own companions.

One of the soldiers sees me advancing and drops his sword.  Then he turns and runs, only to have one of his own men shoot him down.

“Coward!” the archer yells.  “Fight!”

The words have little effect on those within my range.  Though no more drop their weapons, they have trouble lifting them against me, like they know it will do them no good.

Jarl Hralfar cuts down an enemy with his long broadsword, and then bashes another with the hilt.  He becomes a beast without feeling.  Killing all who stand against him.

Genevieve wields the sword of Lucius Swordbreaker.  It’s a long blade with only one sharp edge, but presently that edge glows deep scarlet.  After it cuts through the body of another enemy, the blade bursts into flame.  Soldiers around her fall back in shock and fright, and she allows herself a small smile for the power she can wield.

I still cannot find Aela.

Using my hammer, I twist the sword from a soldier’s grasp and slam him to the ground before catching the blade in my left hand.  In the same motion, I whirl around and stab the blade through a charging foe.  I leave it in his lifeless body and continue the work of destruction.

Suddenly there is a roar from behind.  I turn, expecting a charging troll to run me down.  Instead Ullrog smashes through a barrier of their men, wielding his enormous sword like it’s one of his limbs.

He wears his orcish armor, brought all the way from his home in Arthensgulf. The workmanship is masterful and decorative; green-hued plates, layered across his chest, shoulders, and arms, protect his hulking and brutish form.  The armor makes him appear even more menacing than he already is, and some soldiers turn and flee at the sight of him.  His sword is enormous, wide, and colored like his armor.  Blood splatters its length and dots his armor.