Hammerhold Tales: Thrallborn (6 page)

Kyra, wait!”

She paused as she reached out for the handle, resting her unwounded hand on the door. She didn't look up as she yelled back in a low voice.

“What do you want, shieldling?”

He stopped in his tracks, with his mouth open, words not coming. His heart had fallen down into his stomach as her sharp words cut deeper than any whip ever had. He stood where he was, staring at the ground.

“Nothing, I'm sorry.”

She stared at the door before opening it. Her voice was softer this time.

“Me too.”

She made her way back inside, but Sawain remained rooted to the spot for several more minutes. In the back of his mind, he knew he had work to do, so he forced himself to trudge over to one end of the yard. The bucket seemed much heavier, as did his feet. He flung the contents of the bucket across the stone floor and got down on his hands and knees to begin scrubbing at the messy yard.

It was long, hard work that took him several hours and uncountable trips back to the bath house to complete. Once his chore was complete, his hands, knees, and back were aching and his pant legs were soaked and dirty. The sun was already sinking towards the horizon when Sawain put the bucket up and closed the bath house. He dragged himself inside to the main hall. The others were sitting around the table, including Syd's brother, Reisim, and Housemother Ravensoul. A banquet of fruits and meats and cheeses had been prepared and was mostly gone as Sawain Entered, standing by the door. All eyes trained on him, except for Kyra's. Axel spoke up first, before taking a draft from his mug.

“Don't just stand there, laddie! Better get some food before Rylie finishes it off!”

Rylie protested, “You've eaten more than me, Cellar-gut!”

More insults and laughter were thrown about as Sawain hesitantly found a seat. He wanted to sit as far away from Reisim as possible, without getting too close to Kyra. He picked a seat beside Syd that was a good compromise. He noticed that the elven hero liked to sit as far away from his brother as possible too. Syd greeted Sawain respectfully as he sat, grabbed a plate, and started piling slices of beef on it.

“I trust that cleaning the yard didn't wear you out too much, master Sawain. Axel has asked me to give you a lesson in tactical thinking tonight after dinner.”

Sawain looked up from his plate and swallowed the mouthful of cheddar he had just stuffed into his mouth.

“Like sword fighting?”

Syd smiled, shaking his head slightly, “No, something better.”

“What could be better than swords? Bows?” Sawain inquired.

Syd grinned. “If you are trying to flatter me, it's working. No, not bows either. It is an ancient tradition passed down from my people. I won't bore you with the elven name. In common tongue, it is called chess.”

“Chess? What kind of weapon is that? And what is its elven name? I'm just as much elf as I am human, so I want to know about both cultures.”

Syd nodded, “Chess is a weapon of the mind. My people – our people call it
Otherir.
It translates to conquer. It is a game of wits. I am going to teach it to you tonight.”

Sawain scratched his head, staring at his plate in silence. The concept of a game was foreign to him, so he still had no idea what to expect. Another thought crossed his mind. It just dawned on him that in order for Syd to be back, his friends must have finished their trip to Mistveil.

“Syd, how are the other freed thralls, I guess they made it to the farm safely?”

Syd nodded as he picked a grape off the cluster with his teeth.

“Aye, safe, sound, and all accounted for. We didn't have any trouble on the way back. Only took a day's journey. I trekked back in double time last night and got back right when Axel hatched his plan to clean you up. Glad I didn't stay the night at the farm as they asked. Your old friends are in good hands with Simir leading them. He's a good man.”

Sawain nodded reflectively, “Aye, he is. Did you come across any more gnolls on the way back?”

Syd hesitated before answering.

“No.”

Sawain nodded slowly. He was surprised that this news did not sadden him. In fact, he was relieved. If anyone was to kill Hilmr, it had to be him.

Dinner was finished and the table was cleared. After everything was cleaned up, Syd beckoned for Sawain to follow him. He brought him back to the main hall. On the table, a checkered board was set up. On either side, two rows of checkers had strange carved pieces on each one of the squares. Syd sat at one side and motioned for Sawain to sit on the other side.

“This is
Otherir.
The objective is to take the other player's king. This piece.” He picked up one of the two tall pieces in the back row and placed it back down.

“To do this, we each take turns making one move at a time. Each type of piece has its own unique way of moving and taking other pieces. The pawns up front may only move forward one step at a time, except their initial step, which may be two steps if desired, but may only take a piece that is diagonal from them. The rooks can move as many steps vertically or horizontally as they desire. The bishops may do the same, except diagonally. The Knights move in L shapes. The queen can do both. The king may go in any direction, one step at a time. When you move a piece so that your next move can take the king, you call check. On checks, the opponent must move his king or take your threatening piece. If he cannot, you win. Simple enough. Care to give it a try?”

Sawain's head was spinning with all the rules of this complicated setup. He did not want to make a fool of himself, but he could not say no either and lose face. He nodded hesitantly. Syd smiled.

“Very well, I shall go first.”

Syd moved his first piece and Sawain mirrored what he did. Syd nodded and made his second move. Again, Sawain mirrored it. Syd grinned, making his third move, which was mirrored yet again.

“Not a bad strategy for a beginner to take up. You have a sharp mind, Sawain,” He complimented as he made his next move.

This went on for two more turns before Syd took one of Sawain's bishops, then his queen, losing a few pawns here and there. Syd's knight sidled up next, within range of the king.

“Check.”

Sawain was stuck. He only had one move: back. He was already beginning to see the patterns, though. Syd had set him up. Once he moved back, Syd's rook could move into striking range and he would be stuck. He decided not to give up and took the move. Syd then did as he expected.

“Checkmate. That was a good first game, Sawain. Care to run it again?”

Sawain smiled and nodded, “Sure.”

Sawain really enjoyed this thing that Syd had called a game. He played five more rounds that night, losing each time. Every time he lost, he got better, taking more pieces, seeing more layouts. By his last game he had even set a trap that was similar to the one Syd set for him on the first game. Syd was far too experienced to fall into it, but commended him for setting it up. It was a pleasant and unique feeling for someone to actually compliment Sawain on a job well done. He was beginning to feel as if this life as a shieldling would not be as bad as it was made out to be.

That night, as he crawled into his bed, it was more comfortable. The air was sweeter, the night was warmer, and the darkness a little brighter. After he mentally ran over the events of the day, he tallied it as a good day, despite the misfortunes he faced. He closed his eyes and drifted off into a sleep that would be the first nightmare free dream he would have in the last week.

Chapter Six

Sawain awoke to the thudding of a chainmailed fist against his wooden door. He sat up, still half asleep. His room was dark. The sun had not yet rose. He sat in is bed, staring at his blanketed feet. He was about to lay back down and let sleep reclaim him when the loud knocking came again. This time Axel Rimebeard's voice accompanied it.

“Wake up, shieldling! It is time for yer morning lessons!”

His booming, heavily accented words hit Sawain's ears like a hammer striking a stubborn piece of iron. He groaned and pulled himself out of bed, slipping his boots on. He trudged to the door and pulled it open. Axel stood, fully dressed in his armor, with a lantern in his left hand and a huge grin on his face. The light from the lantern caused Sawain to lift his hand to shield his aching eyes.

“Good morning, shieldling! So glad of ye to finally rejoin the land of the living! Hope yer well rested, 'cause I'm yer lesson-master today! Hurry up and meet me in the great hall. Oh, and put some pants on before ye come down.”

Sawain glanced down at his bare legs and ducked behind the door in shame.

“I'll be down soon.”

Ye'll be down soon,
sir
.” Axel retorted, putting a theatrical emphasis on the word
sir
.

Sawain nodded, early morning irritation building quickly in his disoriented mind.

“Yes,
sir
.”

He shut the door in Axel's face and stumbled around in the dark until he found his pants. Once he was fully dressed, he made his way downstairs. Axel was sitting alone at the table, singing an old dwarven tune under his breath. Sawain could not understand it, but he liked the tune itself. Axel stopped singing once he noticed Sawain and rose from the table, looking flustered for only a moment.

“About time ye got down here. Even Kyra gets ready faster than ye do, and she spends half her morning poring over those magic tomes of hers!”

Sawain shrugged, still half asleep. “I didn't take that long. What was that song you were singing?”

Axel furrowed his brow and scowled, “It's about a nosy shieldling who died on his first day of training because he was late to lessons and his tyrannical lesson-master roasted him alive in his forge when no one was looking!”

Sawain raised his hands up in a gesture showing he meant no harm. “Okay, easy now, Axel, I was just curious. I've never heard dwarven before. It was a nice song.”

Axel snorted, “It's not dwarven, lad. Just forget ye heard it. We have lots of work to do. Follow me.”

“What about breakfast?” Sawain asked plaintively as his stomach gurgled, reminding him of its emptiness.

“It'll have to wait. Your lessons come first, now hurry up.”

Axel headed toward the back door that led to the training yard. Sawain followed close behind, his heart skipping a beat as he realized his lessons would be his first day of weapon training. He was well on his way to becoming a hero after today!

Axel led him across the yard. It was still and vacant. None of the others were to be seen. Sawain thought to himself that they must still be sleeping and was envious of them for having such a luxury. Axel stopped at the fence that served as a protective boundary around the yard. Only now did Sawain notice the latch and nob set into the fence. Axel unhinged the latch and pulled the gate open. This revealed an alcove that was also fenced in like the yard. A small, circular stone building took up most of the alcove. its roof was made of tin. The roof was actually suspended above the building itself on wooden beams, making it look like a massive well with a door in the side. There were no windows. The only way light could be let in was by the slit made by the gap between the roof and the building. Sawain was curious as to what this building had to do with weapon training. Perhaps it was their personal armory.

Axel produced a key and walked up to the iron door. He slid the key into a hole in the door and turned it. There was a clicking sound and he pulled the door open. Sawain followed him in, his curiosity getting the better of him. The inside was dark as midnight. Sawain could not see a thing. He stood at the door as Axel walked fearlessly in. He never heard a single bump, thud or crash as the dwarf moved through the dark room. There was a sound of metal grinding against metal, a loud pop, and a buzzing sound Sawain had never heard before, quickly followed by a blaze of light that forced Sawain to shield his eyes again. As his eyes acclimated to the light, he was able to see into the building at last. He was awestruck at what he saw.

The room was circular, and much larger than he expected it to be. A work bench curved around one part of the wall. It was covered in tools, bits of leather scraps, and half finished blades. At the end of the table, an open furnace was set up like a fire pit. In front of that was an anvil set up on stone blocks. Beside the fire pit, a water trough was set up as well. The walls were lined with tools and, most importantly, weapons. A long glass tube ran along the top of the building, circumference the wall. It glowed brightly, like a small sun. Sawain marveled at it, having to look away as it burned his eyes. He blinked several times, trying to get the black spots in his vision to vanish.

“Axel, how did you make that ring of light? Are you a mage too?”

Axel chuckled at the thought. “No, laddie, that's not magic, it's dwarven science! In common tongue, it's called electricity. Think of it a lightning that can be controlled and sustained. It's not easy to generate it. There's a whole grid and energy station running beneath our headquarters that I've been working on for decades. Still working out the kinks though. Won't be ready or able to give it to the rest of the hold for another decade or two longer. But all that's not very interesting, I'm sure. What we're here for is something different.”

“Weapons!” Sawain exclaimed.

Axel grinned as he turned his back on Sawain and grabbed for something in front of him.

“Well, yes and no,” Axel teased.

He turned around again and threw a heavy apron at Sawain, who caught it in surprise.

“Yer going to be making the weapons.”

“Me? But I've never worked a forge before.”

Axel grinned, baring his teeth. “Today's as good a day as any to learn, laddie. Put that apron on and we will get started.”

Axel started a wood fire in the furnace and began stoking it as Sawain put the apron on. After the fire was hot enough, Axel used a long pair of tongs to place a heavy ceramic bowl or iron ingots in the blaze. He grabbed a large hammer and handed it to Sawain. It was heavier than Sawain had expected it to be, so it threw him off balance. He recovered quickly and looked the hammer over. It was longer than a normal hammer, the head was bigger as well, made of pure steel. Axel picked up a smaller hammer before addressing Sawain.

“That hammer yer holding is a striking hammer. It is used to shape the steel. I will be guiding you as you go along, but you will be doing the forging, the shaping, and the refining of your own sword. It is a long and tedious process, but once done, you will have yerself a blade of unparalleled strength in these human forges. Enough of that, let's get started.”

Sawain spent hours in the windowless forge with Axel, learning how to smelt, shape, and strike the hot metal. As they worked, Sawain made several mistakes. The striking hammer was heavy and he was not used to its feel. He missed the heated metal many times, striking the anvil or a wrong spot on the iron. Once, he struck hard in a bad spot and snapped the blade, forcing them to melt it down and start over. By the end of the day, all he had to show for his hard work was a pair of blistered hands and aching muscles in his arms, legs, and back. Axel placed the half-shaped iron bar in the water, where it hissed menacingly. Once it was cool enough, he sat it on the bench and began taking his own apron off.

“That's enough for today, lad, we've been in here for six hours and ye need to eat. We will strike her back up again tomorrow. Let's clean up and get some lunch.”

The master and apprentice tidied up shop enough to Axel's satisfaction and smothered the forge fire. Once Sawain stepped outside, Axel cut off the lights and followed suit, locking up behind him. Sawain had to stand outside the forge until his eyes became used to the noon daylight. It was cold today, exceptionally cold for someone who had spent all morning in a ninety degree forge. He welcomed the chilly air into his lungs as the sweat on his brow began to grow cold as well. Axel slapped him on the back in his customary way and strode into the training yard. Sawain followed, closing the fence gate as he went. The yard was still empty. They stopped in the kitchen to pull some bread and tomatoes from the larder, as well as a leg of leftover turkey they had stored in one of the ice boxes Axel had invented. They forged a path into the great hall, food in tow. The hall was empty as well. Not even Housemother Ravensoul was anywhere to be found.

“Where is everyone, Axel?” Sawain inquired.

Axel slumped down in one of the chairs and began gnawing furiously at the turkey leg.

“Mf, the Segrammir's messenger called for them late last night. Had some sort of mission for us. I stayed behind to do yer schooling. That old fool probably has them spying on gnolls again. He's paranoid as they can get. Thinks that those beasts are smart enough to start a war against him. Those fiends can't even get along with their own tribe-mates. Kyra went to Mosivik's tower about the same time Rylie and Syd left for the Segrammir's Hall. She's probably doing some research for old Relsted.”

Fury gnawed at Sawain's soul at the mention of gnolls. He tried to suppress it, to little avail.

“Who is Mosivik and Relsted?”

Axel leaned forward, propping himself up on the table with his elbows. He bore an expression of intellectual superiority on his face.

“Mosivik Leafturner is court magician and head scholar to our dear 'hero king', Relsted Gildlister. Mosivik is an arrogant little gnome who thinks he is better than everyone else because of all his books. I'm not fond of him particularly, but he's a true noble when compared to our current Segrammir. He is descended from Bruhimn, the first Segrammir of Anvilheim. He is nothing like his great grand sire. He is a weak ruler who struggles with coming to a decision, then struggles further with holding to the decisions he makes. It is because of him that Jordborg was able to conquer southern Anvilheim. Our hold's influence has suffered greatly under his reign. But they say his general is likely to become the next Segrammir, since he himself has no heir. Now that's a shift in power many of us heroic types are waiting for.”

Sawain's heart sank into his stomach at the mention of Jordborg's conquest.

“Axel, what can you tell me about the war between Jordborg and Anvilheim?”

Axel perked up, eager to share his knowledge of the war with his protege. He opened his mouth to begin when the main door swung open. Rylie and Syd came striding in with grim countenances. Axel noticed and forgot his tale. He spoke cheerfully to them.

“Well, what did the hero-king want?” The sarcasm dripped from Axel's words.

Syd sank into a chair at the end of the table and Rylie slunk to a seat on the other side of the table. Both looked uninterested in acknowledging the other. Axel raised an eyebrow at their curious behavior.

“The two of ye look like a pair of Spriggans in a barrel.”

Sawain, who had never seen or heard of a Spriggan was confused, “What does that even mean?”

“It means we look ready to kill each other,” Rylie answered in a low tone.

Axel looked from Rylie to Syd and back again, concern replacing curiosity on his countenance.

“What is going on here?”

Syd, who had been staring a hole into the table, looked up at Axel, “The gnolls have defiled one of the standing stone sites.”

Axel grew as grim as his companions. Even Sawain felt his face grow dire and a rage stir in his chest at the mention of gnolls. Axel's words came out in a low growl.

“What do you mean?”

Rylie answered. “They have destroyed the stones of Nath, The Forked One.”

Sawain had heard of Nath, the two-headed snake god before. He was a prankster who plagued the other gods in the old stories. He had to ask, “What would they want with a bunch of old stones?”

Everyone looked at him sternly. He shrank in his seat, feeling the blood rushing into his cheeks. He didn't speak again.

After a moment, Syd spoke again, “ The segrammir believes that they are searching for some sort of artifact that could help them invade Anvilheim. He is calling on heroes to stop them at all costs. He is especially keen on the idea of genocide at the gnoll's expense.

Sawain did not understand what genocide meant, but it sounded painful for the gnolls, so he liked it.

Rylie slammed his tiny fist on the table. “So what if we were to commit genocide? Isn't our goal to keep Anvilheim safe? Aren't the gnolls a constant threat to our home's safety?”

Syd scowled fiercely, the unrefined elvish fury glaring in his eyes as he grit his teeth, “Genocide is unacceptable in any situation. The gnolls are no less a threat to us than the humans and gnomes of Jordborg. If you can justify using it against one race just because their values are different, what stops them from committing it against the halflings because they hate their vagabond ways?”