Hammerhold Tales: Thrallborn Read online

Axel once told him that the elves of Alfhaven were strict practitioners of isolation. They did not want any dealings with the other holds and did not want other holds encroaching on their business. He was not confident that Alfhaven would ride to Anvilheim’s aid, but he had to try. At least he might find shelter there, being half elf. He set off eastward towards the forest.

  The snow began to fall harder, quickly dusting the dirt road with a brilliant white sheet. Sawain looked back and saw dark footprints in the road behind that led straight to him. He decided it would be a bad idea to stay on the road, so he cut southeast, leaving the clean cut trail and keeping to the forest of rocks that perforated the landscape of the Fells.

  An hour passed and hunger pains began to gnaw at Sawain’s stomach. He had not eaten since he left the city. He had been able to ignore it up til now. He needed to find something to eat, but he was not particularly well suited for hunting with only his hammers at his side. He found a tall rock outcrop and crouched close against the lee side of the makeshift shelter. He searched his pack for anything useful and found the loaf of bread he brought with him. It was flattened, stale, and frozen, but food was food. He bit ravenously at it, trying to break loose a piece to eat. It was stubborn. It also tasted faintly of blood. He tried to ignore this as he chewed vehemently at the loaf. A minute passed before Sawain was able to loosen a piece of the frozen bread and chew it properly. He worked vigorously at the meal until he had finished it. This was by no means a filling meal. Sawain was still hungry, but at least he could tolerate it again.

  If any other teenager playing hero was out here in this snowstorm, on a near empty stomach, they would probably not make it through the night. Sawain was different from any of those children on the streets of Anvilheim. When it got cold, they had a place to run to to stay warm, even the urchins. His childhood knew no warmth. He slept on a cold earthen floor in the slave quarters with nothing to keep him warm but an overused animal hide. He was used to bitter cold winter nights like this. He knew how to use the snow as a natural barrier against the biting wind. In the slave quarters, they would pack snow into the windows and door cracks to keep the frostbite at bay.

  Sawain used this trick on a different scale. As the snow continued to build up, and quickly so, Sawain kept shoveling it with his hands, keeping a small spot behind the rock clear. He also gathered snow from nearby to build up his little barrier faster. Within an hour, he had a three foot tall wall of snow all around him in a four foot diameter. Weariness was overtaking him at this point. He tried to curve his walls inward to make a sort of roof, but did not have much luck with it. Instead, he burrowed into the far wall for a few feet, resting only to keep his hands from succumbing to frost bite.

  Snow began to fill his little hole as he curled up as tightly as possible in his makeshift snow shelter. He used one of the arrows he kept from the temple to drill a hole to the surface of the snow that he could use to keep fresh air flowing into his snow cocoon and then wrapped himself up as much as possible in his leather jacket, covering his face as well as possible.

  He was cold, he was exhausted, he was hungry, and his hands were on the verge of frostbite, but he was alive, and most importantly, hidden as the blizzard filled up the rest of his hole. He felt at ease and safe, regardless of the fact that he was in poor condition. He turned his thoughts to Hilmr and the massive army that destroyed Fort Vigilant. Rage filled his heart as he thought of all the brave men and women that were slaughtered so viciously as they defended their homeland. He thought of the families torn asunder by this act of war. The rage that built up inside of him burned hotter than any fire he could have made. It was this burning fury that kept Sawain warm as he fell into a troubled sleep that night.

  Sawain was standing on the peak of a great mountain, staring down at the world below him. He could see glistening white tundra at his feet that eventually turned into rolling green hills and valleys dotted with many rocks and farms. To his right, he saw a majestic mountain range that separated the hills from a vast desert and to his left, he saw a lush green forest that stretched as far as he could see in that direction.

  It was all so beautiful and peaceful. That was when he noticed a black spot at his feet. He did not notice it before, but now, it spilled out from the foot of the mountain like black blood. The oozing puddle slowly spread out into the snowy plains, tainting everything it touched. It soon spilled out on the grassy hills, killing whatever it touched and growing in momentum. It spread from the plains to the sea and into the mountains as well, but Sawain noticed something. While the rest of the world was dying, the forest was holding the darkness at bay. Darkness spilled over the land, covering everything with an unrelenting night. Sawain then noticed a few points of light that pierced the darkness. Many of them were dim, but one shone out brightly. This light came from the forest that was holding off the shadows.

  This light shot out from the forest edge and cut through the darkness. Wherever it went, the darkness parted. It connected with four other points of light at the center of the land and then shot straight for Sawain. The light filled his spirit. He could feel the great mountain crumbling beneath his feet.

  Sawain’s eyes opened in darkness. It was cold. He was unable to move his arms. He kicked with his legs, breaking the loose snow that encased him. After several minutes of struggling, he was able to break free of his icy shelter. The morning sun shone brilliantly on the white sheet of snow that covered the Fells, only broken by the larger rock formations. There was at least three feet of snow on the ground. Sawain was not sure how he was going to travel when the snow was as deep as it was now.

  Sawain’s shelter had kept him alive throughout the night, but now he was wet and it was well below freezing outside. His hands were already suffering and he could feel the warmth draining from him quickly. He knew that he had little other choice but to keep moving and hope he could find better shelter soon.

  He pulled himself up on the snow and took his first step. He was surprised to find that the snow had actually more compacted and was solid enough to hold his weight. He carefully moved across it. His feet sank a few inches, but the snow continued to hold him well enough to make progress. The going was slower than the day before, but at least he was going.

  Hunger and cold continued to wrack his body. He was really struggling as the deep chill of winter bit into his soaked clothes. His arms and legs moved slower and he could feel his body giving in to hypothermia. He couldn’t allow this to be the end. He had to press on. He had to fulfill his vendetta and he had to save Anvilheim. His fury at the thought of dying now kindled a fire in his heart that tried to fight back the frost. It did so for a while, but as the day went on, Sawain grew hungrier and colder. He was climbing a particularly large hill when that flame flickered out.

  He just couldn’t take it anymore. He was too cold. Too tired.

  I’ll just sit down at the top of this hill. I’ll take a short nap.

  When he got to the top of the hill, all he could see was more hills and rocks in every direction. He still was nowhere near the forest. He felt hope slip away just as his feet slipped out from under him.

  He hit the hard snow on his backside and half slid, half tumbled down a steep slope for several hundred feet. He was lucky that he missed any large rocks as he fell. By the time he stopped falling, he was bruised, battered, and unwilling to move. He stared at the snow that he was face down in. Shadows began to fall over everything. He turned his head to the left and saw a couple of dark figures in the snow. He closed his eyes and allowed one last thought to run through his mind.

  At least I was killed by a hill and not a gnoll.

  Sawain opened his eyes. Everything was blurry at first, as his eyes tried to focus on the light around him. Muffled voices tried to enter his ears, but he could not understand them. Soon, figures came into focus, his ears attuned themselves, and the cold numbness in his body began to flee. A kind, round face of an older woman came into focus. She had big brown eyes, a round nose, and slight
points on her ears. Her ruddy colored face shone with care.

  “Lookit you! Already comin’ round! The others said you’d be out of it for a week! I told ‘em you looked like a strongun! Looks like I win the wager! Been ‘ere two days and yeh’ve already earned me some fortune! What a blessing ye are, youngun!”

  Sawain tried to sit up, but his ribs forbade it as they shot searing pain signals to his mind. Sawain reluctantly obeyed his broken ribs and lay back down. When he did so, he noticed that he was laying on two down mattresses that were pushed together on a long dining table. they had white sheets on them. A green crochet blanket was draped over his lower body. He got a better look at his caretaker and realized she was standing on a bench and could not be over three feet tall.

  “Where am I? Who are you?”

  The woman grinned broadly, “You’re in Underfell Town. My name’s Tilly Urthkeep. I’m the residential healer in these parts. What’s with the confused look, child? Never heard of Underfell Town?”

  Sawain shook his head sheepishly. In honesty, he only actually knew of three holds in Hammerhold.

  Tilly nodded sagely, still grinning, “Aye, that’s to be expected. Wouldn’t be much of a secret community if everyone knew about it, now would it? Underfell Town is exactly what it says in its name: A town under the Fells. It’s a bona-fide Halfling settlement, kept since the Ald Days. This town is a relic of the ancient past as much as it is a modern home.”

  Sawain stared up at the ceiling. It curved around like a vault. It was smooth and cylindrical. Several square tiles covered the walls and ceiling of this room. They were different shades of green and made mosaic patterns all over the room. The room itself was fairly small. It was about fifteen feet wide, twenty five feet long, and six feet tall. He brought his gaze back to Tilly.

  “So, you’re a halfling and we’re underground right now?”

  Tilly gave him a sly smile, “Yer a clever one, aren’t ye, boy? Aye, we’re deep underground. Underfell Town extends hundreds and hundreds of feet below the surface. Keeps us safe from the outside world of the bigfolks. Now, you know who I am. Care to enlighten me as to the identity of this strappin’ youngun that’s been sleepin’ on my dining room table for the past two days?”

  Two days. Sawain’s head swirled at the thought of being out for so long when it only felt like a few moments for him. He tried to recover quickly. He noticed a look of concern on Tilly’s face and assumed his feelings were more visible than he would have desired.

  “My name is Sawain. I’m a hero from Anvilheim.”

  Tilly wore a look of heavy skepticism that wilted Sawain.

  “Well, I’m a hero in training. I was out on a mission to clear some gnoll bandits off the road while the rest of my company was off fighting a gnoll army in the north.”

  Tilly smirked, “You mean you was off playin’ hero, trying to prove yehself to your boss. Lemme guess, ye got caught?”

  Sawain was livid, “No, I didn’t get caught. I did clear it out. Well, kind of. The details aren’t important, what’s important is I learned that Jordborg was planning to attack Anvilheim, or I thought so. On the way home, I was cut off by a massive army that had torn through one of our strongest forts and is now threatening to tear our entire hold apart. I’m trying to get to Alfhaven to seek out help, but I got caught in that blizzard, and I should have died, but…”

  Sawain remembered Turin, “But I guess destiny wasn’t done with me yet.”

  Tilly looked nervous and worried. She was wringing her hands and stammering, “G-great t-turnip greens! Yeh said a great army? How great? Could they have followed you here?”

  Sawain shook his head, “No, at least, I don’t think so. If someone was following me I would think they would have tried to kill me while I slept, so I don’t think anyone was after me.”

  Tilly calmed down and looked satisfied with the answer. She placed her hands on her hips and nodded.

  “Right, well, that’s good to know. I am concerned about this news, but we can’t be sending ye off to Alfhaven in yer condition. Ye need a few weeks to heal up and recover. There’s no magickers in this town, I’m the best yeh’ve got, and I do things the Ald way.”

  Sawain tried to sit up again, grimacing as the searing pain from his ribs tried to force him back down. He stood his ground this time.

  “I can’t stay down here, resting, while my friends are being slaughtered! This is too urgent! You don’t get it! Our entire world is in great danger! The army that moves from the north is no mere army! There is a deep darkness present. I saw it. It is going to consume everything!”

  Tilly placed her small hands on Sawain’s chest, trying to calm him down, “Now, now, child, settle down! I understand that it’s important to you, but you’ll die if you go back out there too soon.”

  Sawain broke away from her and swung his feet off the table, “If I don’t go now, we will all die!”

  He jumped to his feet. This was a mistake. As soon as he was on his feet, his legs crumpled beneath him. He fell to the floor, trying to catch himself, but found only the tiled floor. He tried to pull himself back up, but the pain from his ribs was overwhelming. He had no strength in his arms, either. He felt Tilly’s hands under his arms. Though she was not very strong, it gave Sawain enough leverage to get back to the table after several painful minutes of struggling. He sat there in a daze as Tilly went to fetch a kettle of hot water on a nearby stove. She poured it into a ceramic cup along with some herbs from a clay jar. She mixed and ground the contents for a few minutes while Sawain contemplated how to get his strength back so he could escape. Soon, Tilly came over to him with the cup.

  “Here, youngun, drink this. It’ll relax ye and help with the recovery process.”

  Sawain did want to recover. He took the cup from her. A brown liquid swirled within it. It smelled of flowers. The very smell of it began to calm Sawain down. He took a sip of the liquid. It was bitter. He made a corresponding face. Tilly responded with a scowl of her own.

  “Wassa matter? Not a tea drinker? Go on, tough it out. It’ll make you feel better.”

  Sawain looked from the halfling nurse to the ‘tea’. He took a deep breath and hesitantly gulped the rest of the cup down. It was hot, and burned a little, but it was down. He let out a big sigh, then waited for the results. A few seconds later, he felt no different. After experiencing one of the Housemother’s potions, he was not impressed by this tea.

  “When is it going to kick in? How long is this going to take?”

  Tilly grinned, “Oh give it some time, youngun! It’ll do the trick. It just takes some time. I told you, I’m not a magicker. Just lay back down and let it work.

  Sawain did not feel like laying down.

  “Look, Tilly, I appreciate your help, and saving my life, and everything, but I really need to get going. Anvilheim is in danger. War is breaking out as we speak. The other holds need to be warned.”

  Sawain’s eyelids were becoming heavy, and he noticed.

  Tilly kept smiling gently at him. “You can tell yer war stories to the governor after yeh’ve had more time to rest. I have nothin’ against you going out and being a hero, but not until yeh’ve had time to recover. If there is a war, it’ll still be there waiting for you when you wake up.”

  Sawain was confused. His head began to swim a little.

  “Tilly… What did you do to me? Poison?”

  Tilly shook her head, looking disappointed. “No child, not poison. Medicine. I’m not yer enemy. When you wake up, yeh’ll thank me. Now come, youngun, lay down before you pass out again.”

  Sawain wanted to fight it. He wanted to push past Tilly and make a break for it, but his limbs were non-responsive. He glared angrily at Tilly, feeling betrayed.

  “You said you were going to help me… You tricked me…”

  Tilly shook her head, still smiling, “No, child, I told you the truth. I told you the tea would relax you and help with the healing. That’s no trick. I also said I’m not your enemy. Now, ju
st settle down and rest a while. Yeh’ll be glad you did.”

  As much as he didn’t want to, as strongly as he felt in regards to being deceived, Sawain could not fight the strong pull of sleep that fell over him. He begrudgingly laid back on the makeshift bed and stared at the ceiling. His temper flared only for a moment before he felt content again. It wasn’t so bad. At least he was safe here. Maybe he would take a nap after all. He smiled as euphoria took over his senses. He let his eyes close shut.

  I’ll save the world tomorrow. It can wait another day. Like Tilly said: The war will still be there, waiting on me.

  Chapter Ten

  Sawain slept in a dreamless slumber for what felt like hours. Darkness enveloped him as he lay in a state of induced paralysis. He could not think, he could not move. He fought it for as long as he could, trying to awaken on his own, but he could not. Finally, he gave in and stopped fighting. He simply slept.

  When he opened his eyes again, the room he was in the other day slowly came into focus. It was dark, dark enough to render his elven vision useless. He tried to sit up. The pain in his ribs was still present, though not as strongly as before. He swung his legs to the side of the table, resting them on the bench below. He was about to stand when he remembered his failure from the other day.

  Instead of haphazardly leaping out this time, he gently put pressure on his legs to see if they could support his weight. They could not take much before going limp. He frowned and decided to try again, flexing his leg muscles, trying to get the blood flowing through them again.

  He worked at reviving his legs for twenty minutes before they could finally hold his full weight again. Now that he was on his feet again, he stumbled his way through the room to the doorway he remembered from the other day. With some frustration, a bruised shin, and a little dumb luck, Sawain found the door. He twisted the handle and pushed it open.

  A cold draft hit him as he stood in the open doorway. It was at this point that he realized all he was wearing was a pair of trousers ans a thin cotton shirt, neither of which belonged to him. He did not have any of his weapons or gear. This immediately unnerved him, especially the thought of him having to be undressed to be changed in the first place.