Dragonhammer: Volume I (15 page)

She raises an eyebrow.  “I told you it would work.”

I’m dumbfounded.  “What?”

“The only thing I checked when I came up here was that there were actually people in it.  I knew a frontal assault would work.”

Now I’m more than dumbfounded.  I’m simply fuming.  “So you jeopardized the stability of the entire operation, just to prove that your tactic would work?!”

“More or less.”

“Calm down,” says Percival, resting his hand on my shoulder.  “She’s not worth it.”

I take a few deep breaths.  “I know,” I reply.  “But from now on, I’m leading.”

THe Retake of Terrace

I
don’t allow Genevieve to even touch the dove’s cage.  Quietly I open the door and grasp the bird with both hands and it coos at me in submission.  I turn in the general direction of Terrace and point the bird the same direction.  Then I release it skyward.

It flaps off and quickly goes out of sight in the black night.

“I hope it works,” I mutter.

Then we’re in the tunnels.  Genevieve, of course, has refused to let me lead by myself, and so sneaks next to me.  Running would be louder than any of us want, and so we sneak quietly through the tunnels to the grate that leads into the dungeons of the Keep.

“Hold,” I whisper.  Even at such a low volume, the breath echoes throughout the tunnels.  Our force halts.  Then we wait, but not for long.

A low bellow sounds clearly throughout the tunnels.

“There’s the horn,” breathes Jericho.  “We’re right on time.”

The metal grates have been padlocked shut again, but we merely use the keys we had taken from one of the soldiers in Fort Greymane.  The metal grates are loud as they open.  A guard comes around the corner, but one of our archers gets him right as he comes into sight.  It was for this reason we kept archers at the front.

“Just as I planned,” says Genevieve.  “We split into groups of ten and kill anyone on sight.  Everyone follow your route, and do not stray from it.  Move out.”

I do have to give her the credit for this part of the plan.  Every group of ten has an assigned route through the Keep to effectively remove all resistance in the shortest span of time possible, and also to help avoid detection.  Several small armies are much harder to detect than one large army.

The warhorn bellows again as we separate into our groups.

Jericho, Percival, Nathaniel, Gunther, and five others join me.  We run up the stairs and into the main hall with several other groups, our archers taking out the guards before they can raise the alarm.  Then we split from them and make our way through a hallway and up the tower stairs.  Other groups will be scouring the lower levels for any Tygnar forces.  Our particular group is supposed to take over the right wing wall.

We open the door to the wall quietly.  The nearest guard looks suspiciously and comes near to investigate.  As soon as he enters the room, we pull him to the side and one of the soldiers kills him.

Another guard hears the struggle and says, “Who goes?!”

I make eye contact with the archer and motion towards his bow.  He nods.

Not another second passes before he jumps out and shoots the guard.  We pile out of the tower and onto the wall, destroying anyone to stand before us.  Our archers are a tremendous help in that they can kill someone from a distance before they raise the alarm.

There are surprisingly few men on the wall.  However, within the armory on the wall, there’s quite a different story.

We barge in and look for anyone who would oppose us.  They stand everywhere.  The armory is full of men, but I don’t stop to think about why.

While they’re frozen in shock I smash one into another.  Then they charge us.

I hit one to the side, denting his armor and probably crushing his ribs.  I hit the next one’s shoulder.  He yells as he falls to the ground and there’s a sick
crack
.  Jericho puts him out of his misery.

One of them charges me from the side.  I crouch down and block his stroke, and then catch him with my hammer and throw him over a nearby rack of shields.  I turn and watch one of my men die, slashed across the back from an opponent behind him.

I remember the pines.  The broken tree.  The waterfall.  The grave of my father.

With a roar I pound in the helm of another enemy and knock the legs out from underneath another, most likely breaking one or more of his bones.  Percival finishes him.

I block two strokes from two different enemies, and then whirl my hammer in the air, catching both heads and flooring them instantly.  Nathaniel blocks a blow and knocks the wind out of one soldier, and then ends it by slamming him in the back.

A couple of soldiers barge out of the door.  “They’re going to raise the alarm!” I shout.  “Bring them down!”

I charge out the door with one of the archers.  I kill one and the archer kills the other, but the soldier throws himself towards the crenellations of the wall in a final attempt to warn somebody.  His body falls.

The others come out of the armory.  Our numbers have been cut by three, but all of my friends are still here.  Jericho has a sword embedded in his shield, and he takes a moment to wrench it out.

“That wasn’t so bad,” I murmur.  Then we run back towards the tower.

All goes well.  That is, until we reach the top.

The beacon is located on top of the tower on the farthest point on the left wing.  It’s positioned such that when lit, it shines through the gap between two of the peaks that surround Terrace.  It will take at least a minute to climb.

However, we are not to light the beacon until we know the Keep is ours.  To establish that, five of the groups have been appointed to visit the most important places in the Keep.  Once they come to the top, we will know the Keep is ours.

The training grounds that were built up here have been destroyed, and instead we find a troll.  Khaoth knows how Tygnar got him up here, but here he stands, woken by the warhorn.

“Work your magic, Trollslayer,” Percival says.  He says it like a joke, but I know it’s not.

The troll roars and charges us, swinging his club.  “Into the tower!” one of the men cries.

“No!” I yell, but too late.

As he flees inside, the troll swings his club and cracks the stone bricks of the tower.  Only two swings later, he has smashed a hole into the tower and has crushed the soldier within.

Unable to find his kill, the troll roars and turns back towards us, who are scattering across the roof of the Keep.  Randomly he begins swinging his club at whoever happens to be closest, bellowing the whole time.  Only one archer lives, but the troll only finds his arrows a nuisance.

Another group comes up through the tower opposite and, seeing the troll, begins to question the wisdom of fighting.  Shortly after them another arrives, in the opposite corner.

He advances on me slowly, like he’s enjoying the moment of the kill.  “Come here, little man,” he rumbles.  His voice is croaky and low.  “You die now.”

I dodge one of his blows and hit the inside of his knee with the spike of my hammer.  He screeches curses and thrashes about.  I only barely evade the first strike, but the second nicks my shoulder and I fly towards the edge.

I sit up, dazed, leaning on the crenellations that overlook the city.  I struggle to stand and make it just as the troll zones in on me and opens his mouth to bellow.

Despite my dizziness, I make this the best knife I have ever thrown.

The knife leaves my hand as he begins to charge, holding his club high, his mouth wide open in a horrible roar.  There’s a choking noise as the roar stops abruptly and the knife embeds itself in the back of his mouth.

The club flies forward and off the edge as he goes limp with a crash.  His momentum carries him forward and I am forced to dive out of the way as his head smashes into the crenellations and he somersaults over the edge to his death.

I wipe blood from my lip as the fifth group comes up on the roof, Genevieve leading them.  “What are you standing around for?” she yells to no one in particular.  “Light the beacon!”  Her broadsword’s edge is splattered with crimson.

Several men run towards the tallest tower and disappear inside.

“I see you’re still alive,” she observes.  “If a little beaten up.”

“Troll,” I say.

“Where is it then?” she questions.  “If the mighty Trollslayer slew the troll, then where is it?”

“Down there.”  I point towards the crevice in the crenellations, looking down upon her.

“Nice try,” she says, but I see a little bit of jealousy in her eyes.

I take a moment to study the battle that is going on at the front gate of the city.  It is difficult to see, as it is still night, but the torches above the gate are lit, and some soldiers carry torches wherever they go.  From what I can tell, they have not breached the gate.

“They may need help getting through,” I say.

“Possibly,” says Genevieve.  It’s the first time she ever agrees with me.

Suddenly a blaring light shines from the peak of the tower.  An enormous fire blazes there, lighting everything on the surrounding mountainside.

“There,” I say.  “The Keep is ours.  Now to the gate.”

Few men stay back to guard what we have worked so hard to take.  The rest of us run down to the front gate of the Keep, where Genevieve gives the order to lift the portcullis.  After we hear the loud clack that means it has locked into position, she orders the gates be opened.  As soon as the gates allow, we run through into the streets of Terrace.

There are few men to oppose us; all of the rest are at the gate.  I am startled by what I think is a terrible beast, but after only a moment I see that it is the wrecked carcass of the troll I threw from the top.

“We must help them open the gate!” I shout.  “Whatever we can do!”

I, with my followers in tow, race around into an alley and run down a less busy, more incognito street.  The sound of fighting soon overcomes all others.

The Tygnar army is in disarray.  Most of the soldiers have heard fighting in both directions and do not know what to think of it, and the feeling throws them into a frantic panic.  Unfortunately, the same goes with the trolls.

The trolls begin beating everything within reach.  Arrows pierce them, but they don’t know from which side.  Swords slash, but from the trolls’ rearward where they thought only allies stood.

It is easy to hammer a way through their scattered men, to the front gate.  I climb the steps on the right and end up inside the hallway that goes into the right Clifftower.  Several men line the halls, but they are quickly dispatched.

“How do we open the gate?” Nathaniel shouts.

“There’s a wheel you turn in the lower levels,” I yell, pointing towards the stairwell that will lead us.  “It will open the gate.”

I turn and cross weapons with another foe, quickly throwing him down.  “Go!” I yell.  “I will make sure no one follows you down!”

Jericho and Nathaniel run down the stairs.  I hear fighting.  “Help them,” I tell Gunther and Percival.  “They won’t get past me.”

“I know,” Gunther says with the hint of a smile.  Then both run down into the stairwell.

Some of my men still stand next to me and fight.  Watching me seems to give them strength of their own, and they fight like beasts.

“Kadmus!” Gunther yells from the stairwell.  “The wheel is blocked!  There’s no way to open the gate!”

By this time the shock of our presence behind the gate has worn off of the Tygnar soldiers, at least for the most part.  Though they still do not know how we did it, they know that we are enemies.

“Cover me!” I roar.  Then I turn and dart down the stairs.

Part of the right wall is caved in, but additional rock from the cliff has fallen to fill it in.  Rubble is strewn everywhere and in the middle, the wheel has been broken from its axel.  Even if it was still attached, the damage done to the wheel would render it unusable.

“Our catapults must have hit it,” I infer.  “But why isn’t the gate down?!”

“Don’t know,” Percival says, “but we have to do it fast.”

“The mechanism,” I mutter.  I study the floor where the axel of the wheel enters the stonework.  Chains trail from the axel to holes in the wall, where I assume they must connect to the gate.

I smash the remains of the axel and free the chains, and then take the cold steel.  “Hold it here,” I command.  We line up along the chain, and on my mark we pull.

I hear the groan of wood and the scrap of steel on stone.  The chain moves as we pull and there’s a roar of triumph from outside.

“It’s working,” Nathaniel says.

“Of course it’s working, pull,” I retaliate with a short breath.

“Hey!” someone yells.

“Don’t stop,” I urge, letting go of the chain.  “We must open the gate.”

They only nod.

I hammer the soldier that had opposed my opening of the gate.  He lies lifeless and I move on to the next.

Percival grunts with the strain and Gunther slips on the chain.  “Don’t stop,” I urge again.  “I will protect you.”  Then I leap up the stairs and the battle resumes.

I am pleased to see that many of my men still fight valiantly.  Their morale raises when I rejoin them and fight by their side.

“You,” suddenly says a voice.

The voice is ominous.  A familiar clomp echoes in the carved room, followed by another.  Then he steps down from the stairs that lead into the Clifftower.  The torchlight casts a flickering shadow of his figure onto the wall.