Hammerhold Tales: Thrallborn Read online

  “Well, laddie, it looks like this battle is already lost. We may want to make for the city gate. There may be survivors there that need help getting out.”

  Sawain racked his brain for a solution to save the city. All he could think of was to keep swinging until every last abomination lay broken at his feet. He grit his teeth and tightened his grip on the hammer that had served him well so far.

  “I’m not running. Heroes don’t run. I’ll kill every last one of them.”

  Jatharr grabbed Sawain’s elbow and shook his head, “Yer no good to us dead, hero. Ye need to learn to pick yer battles, Deathsbane. Let’s fall back for now. We can come back for Underfell some day, but it’s lost to the enemy now.”

  Sawain wrenched his elbow from Jatharr’s grasp. He could feel the old familiar fire of rage building in his chest. He was tired of always being beaten, of always having to run. Turin saved him once already, he was not sure how many times he could rely on that happening. If he died here, it could very well be his end. He sighed and spat on the ground.

  “Fine, let’s go.”

  Jatharr stepped back and gave Sawain a sympathetic look, “We will have our revenge, Deathsbane.”

  “I am no Deathsbane. Just call me Sawain. I failed to earn your title today.”

  Jatharr furrowed his brow and snorted, “Nonsense. You’ve saved many lives already today. You may not feel like it now, but you are a hero. To the survivors of this dark day, you will always be Deathsbane. Now, follow me. The gate’s not too far.”

  Jatharr’s words lifted Sawain’s spirits a little, but the rage still burned in his chest. He wordlessly followed Jatharr down streets and back alleys. He thought of his frustration for being too tired to keep fighting. He thought of the hundreds of halflings who died today. He thought of how infuriating it was that he had to let the city fall to the undead. Each thought kindled the fire inside until it was an inferno, ready to explode.

  They met with little resistance along the way, the few packs of undead they did come across were easily dispatched with fire and magic hammer. Soon, they turned to a wide street with a cave-like ceiling. Ahead of them was a large iron double gate, about ten feet high and eight feet wide. It was barred from this side.

  Jatharr and Sawain limped to the gate. At its foot, a small refugee camp had been set up. Camp fires burned in the street. Barricades of rubble and bonfires were set up along the perimeter to help keep the dead at bay. The guard at the entrance of the camp lowered his weapon upon recognizing Jatharr.

  “Captain Jatharr! Glad to see yer alright, sir!”

  Jatharr glared at the guard, then the closed gate, then back at the guard, “What’s the meaning of this? Why is the gate closed? We should be moving the survivors out, not bottling them up in here! The city is overrun!”

  The guard stammered sheepishly, “W-well, sir, the Mayor’s orders. That is, the Mayor ordered the Gates remain shut, to keep the undead from spilling out onto the surface.”

  Jatharr snorted, pushing past the guard, “Ridiculous! The undead already are spreading on the surface! We’ve already seen proof of that today. Where is the Mayor?”

  The guard stammered, following far behind the captain, “He-he left. He and the delegates got out of the city before ordering the gates shut. Said if he didn’t survive, then Underfell couldn’t survive.”

  Jatharr’s countenance reddened deeply, “THAT COWARD! He left his people here to die to save his own hide! That no good-”

  A scream of terror erupted from the street beyond the camp. Everyone in earshot turned to see a halfling maid scrambling to get away from a massive horde of undead that filled the entire street as far as Sawain could see. The sound of the horde was louder than any thunderstorm and twice as terrifying.

  Fear gripped Sawain for a moment, cooling his rage. When the others in the camp heard the horde, a panic broke out. The refugees stampeded over one another as they rushed for the sealed gate. The noise of the chaos was as great as the noise of the horde. Jatharr managed to master his panic and stayed firm as ever.

  “Soldier, get that gate open and get these people to safety. We will hold the horde off as long as we can. Get fire arrows on that horde now! Sorry, Deathsbane, looks like we are dying here today.”

  Sawain raised his hammer to battle position and glared defiantly at the oncoming horde, “You can, if you want, captain. I’m done with dying.”

  Jatharr grinned, preparing to throw his torch, “That’s the spirit, lad!”

  A volley of flaming arrows soared over their heads and struck the oncoming horde in several spots, causing mass mayhem on their front line. Jatharr and Sawain roared out in rebellious accord as they charged the horde.

  They did not get far before an earth splitting boom and a small earthquake rocked the entire city. Sawain and Jatharr turned back to the gate in time to watch it buckle beneath another devastating force from the other side. A third explosion sent tremors through the city, causing pieces of rock from above to come crashing down on the heads of living and dead alike. A fourth and final blow to the gate sent it crashing to the ground.

  When the dust cleared, the outside world was still blocked from view. A terrifying gray-skinned giant with tusk like fangs and glowing red runes carved into its face and arms was crouching at the door, grasping at the refugees nearby. its long white hair was matted with blood and dirt. It was roaring and slavering like a wild animal. The chaos of the panicked refugees was turned inward on itself.

  When Sawain saw the new threat, his rage began to build again with renewed fervor. He thought of the death and destruction caused by this army of atrocities and it refueled the inferno within. He grit his teeth and prepared to break out into a sprint.

  “You’ll have to hold this line on your own captain. I have a giant to kill.”

  Jatharr did not have time to protest. Sawain had already bound off in pursuit of his prey. He roared ferociously at the tidal wave of refugees. It was enough, coupled with the sight of an enraged half elf wielding an enchanted hammer charging full tilt at them to cause the mob to split to the left or right. He was close to the roaring giant now. He could smell the decay of undeath on its cold breath.

  Master Turin, pour your holy strength into me, that I might bring down this blighted beast. Even if my body is destroyed, help me destroy this abomination!

  White hot fire shot through Sawain, igniting his soul and every muscle in his body. The pain should have been too much to bear. Then his fury broke forth. His scream of anguish quickly formed into a roar of pure rage. He had become the Wrath of Turin incarnate. He closed the gap between him and the giant. It lashed at him with a massive arm. Sawain jumped in time to avoid being grabbed. As soon as he landed, he bent his knees to their utmost limit, then used his overflowing energy to bound straight at the snapping maw of the giant.

  His hammer slammed into the giant’s chin with the explosive force of lightning. The giant staggered backwards, tripping on one of the rocks behind him. It sat on one of the hills outside the gate, grasping at its broken jaw with tears building in its eyes. One of its tusks fell out and it howled in anguish and rage at the sight of its own blood.

  Sawain had rebuilt his momentum and burst out of the city gate as the giant was getting to its feet again. He leaped at its shin, swinging with all his might, roaring like a typhoon. The giant was faster than he thought. It lifted its leg high enough to avoid the crippling blow. Sawain struck a large rock, the same one the giant had tripped over. The rock cleaved in half when it absorbed the impact meant for the giant.

  Sawain did not have time to recover from his blow before the giant’s massive hand wrapped around his body. He did have time to raise his arms, though. As the giant lifted him high above the ground, he brought his war hammer down hard on the creature’s wrist. He had enough torque to completely shatter the giant’s wrist. The crushing grip relinquished and Sawain fell to the ground, fifteen feet below him.

  The impact probably hurt a lot, but Sawain did
not feel it. The giant grabbed at his broken wrist, howling and roaring in extreme pain and fury. He thrashed around, shaking the very earth with every stomp. Sawain used this opportunity to rush his wounded foe. He timed his attack as the giant brought his left foot down,generating a shock wave that Sawain used to propel himself upward. He raised his war hammer high above his head and bellowed like a frenzied bull.

  He did not miss his mark this time. Blood and bone showered down as Sawain’s hammer demolished the giant’s knee cap. The thunderous cry of agony was drowned out by the great crash of the giant falling to the ground. Sawain walked over to its head as it lay curled up on the ground, grasping the wound where its knee once was.

  Sawain looked into its tear filled red eyes and felt only hatred. He raised his hammer once more, taking it into both hands this time. He roared with righteous anger that overpowered the giant’s cry of fear. He brought his hammer down on its neck with all the strength he could find left. The hammer and the giant’s neck both exploded in a blinding white flash and a thunderous explosion that threw Sawain backwards.

  When he opened his eyes, he was laying on a carpeted floor. As the light faded, he recognized the room he was in. He sat up and looked around. The room was white and gold. The carpet was a deep midnight blue The rumble of thunder was all around him. Then he realized he was in the presence of another.

  Turin, the god of the Sturmforge stood before him, arms crossed and looking amused. He smiled at Sawain, who was shocked and abashed at his appearance in front of the Storm god. Turin chuckled a deep throaty laugh.

  “Welcome back to the Sturmforge, child. Seems you have had an eventful day.”

  “Master Turin? Am I dead again?”

  Turin shook his head, “No, child, but you came close again. It is sheer willpower that tethers you to the mundane world. No, I brought you here for another reason.”

  Sawain pulled himself back to his feet, trying to look more dignified, “ What reason is that, lord Turin?”

  Turin held out a hand, palm upward. In his hand was an orb of blue crystal, “I think it is time you understood the extent of your powers as my champion. No doubt you have discovered some of them on your own. The healing, the raw power you can exert by tapping into my own power, to name a few. Do you notice how taxing they are on your body, though?”

  Sawain nodded, “Yes, it nearly knocked me out cold after I, err, healed that militia guard.”

  Turin grinned broadly, exposing his white teeth, “Indeed, it did. There is a reason for that. Two reasons really. The first is that your body is not made to wield divine energy naturally. When a mortal wields this power, it can destroy him or her after only a short time. The fact that you lasted as long as you did proves that you are champion material. However, even you cannot wield the raw power of the gods without nearly being killed by it.”

  Sawain nodded, more slowly this time, “That explains why I’m here now.”

  “Not exactly, but it has something to do with it. In order to wield the power of the gods, the chosen warriors must channel it through three focuses. The first is a spiritual focus that allows the wielder to access the energy in the first place. You already have this focus. It was given to you when you were chosen for the task I set before you. This orb is the very thing I speak of now. It connects me to you spiritually and allows me to transfer power to you when you call for it The other two important focuses are more physical. They are your Icon and your Holy Weapon.”

  Sawain scowled, “Well, I had a pretty good holy weapon, but it was destroyed in the fight against the giant.”

  Turin shook his head, lowering his arm again, “No, child, you did not. Each of the gods has his or her own chosen weapon. If you tried to use any other weapon as a focus, it would not do any good. The war hammer did not allow you to focus, it just poured out the raw divine power.”

  Sawain was confused, “But you are the god of the Sturmforge, I thought you would prefer hammers?”

  Turin laughed, a more coy laugh this time, “No, wrong again. I hurl great blades of pure electricity upon the earth. My chosen weapon is the great sword. It is a devastating weapon that combines the crushing force of a cudgel with the sheering might of a sword. That is to be your holy weapon. I have one in particular for you, but you must return to the mundane world to claim it. Seek the only living being who still remembers the old gods. You will find her in the darkness of Alfhaven. It will be a dangerous journey now, with the Grey King’s forces spilling over Hammerhold.”

  “Who is the Grey King?” Sawain interrupted.

  “The Grey King is another one of the chosen of the gods. Unfortunately, he is the chosen of Volvre, goddess of the Undead. Volvre is the long-dead god I hoped would stay that way, but even now, her name is remembered by god and mortal alike. The Grey King is a giant who has managed to unite the other giant tribes under a banner of terror. He uses his necromancy to build an undying army of living and dead soldiers. He has cut across Hammerhold already and has conquered all of the north, as well as part of Anvilheim and all of Jordborg. He must be stopped. This is the task I set before you, as my champion. You cannot defeat him yet, not in your condition.”

  Sawain was indignant, “What do you mean, my condition?”

  Turin scowled at Sawain, “You are unfocused. Yes, you have tremendous raw power, but if that power was to be focused, it would not only be controllable, but it would intensify threefold. You must find your focuses. When you find the one you seek, she is instructed to give you your icon and will lead you to my final gift to you.”

  The light began to intensify around Sawain again. He started to panic. This light meant that Turin was done speaking with him, but he still had more questions.

  “Lord Turin, wait, what is the name of the one I am seeking?”

  The light was growing unbearably bright, but Sawain thought he saw a look of discomfort on Turin’s face, “You will know her when you find her. Go forth, my champion, do not let the Grey King’s taint defile the beauty of Hammerhold.”

  The light became overwhelming, blinding. It filled Sawain’s vision and seared his eyes. Soon the light faded into pure darkness. Frigid air filled his lungs. The smell of blood and smoke filled his nostrils. He could not move his arms. He struggled to move his legs, but could barely twitch a toe. It took great effort to force his eyes open. Dim light flooded into his bleary vision. After a few moments, the room he was in came into focus. It was not a room at all, but a canvas tent. He tried to sit up. A small, but strong, hand pushed him back down. The force, though gentle, was enough to cause every bone and muscle in Sawain’s body to exude blinding pain. It knocked the breath out of him. He heard a familiar voice beside him.

  “Steady, hero, don’t want to be hurtin’ you more, do we? I can’t believe yer awake so soon! You are a tough one!”

  Sawain turned his head to the left and looked up to see captain Jatharr sitting cross-legged beside him. The captain was in a white cotton tunic and canvas trousers. It was strange to see him out of his armor.

  “Captain? What happened?”

  The captain’s smile faded into a downcast demeanor, “Well, you saved us, that is what is most important. Some of us were able to escape as you were fighting the giant. Got some of the camp supplies out too, though not many. There were lots of wounded. When you killed the giant, there was an explosion. It caused the gate tunnel to collapse. Buried the zombie horde before they could breach the surface.”

  Sawain was relieved that the undead were buried. He sensed an overwhelming sadness over Jatharr.

  “How many made it out?”

  Jatharr hesitated to answer, and when he did, he did so in a low, hushed tone,“Two of us makes just over a dozen. The rest didn’t make it out. Most are civilians, used to the comforts of Underfell Town. They’ve never had to survive on the surface before. They aren’t used to this harsh climate. If we don’t find some proper shelter for them soon, they’ll all die.”

  Sawain stared straight ahead at the top
of the tent. If he had not started this foolhardy quest for gnoll blood, he wondered if the Grey King’s blight would have ever found these halflings. Jatharr must have sensed Sawain’s distress.

  “Don’t blame yerself for this tragedy, Deathsbane. It would have found us at any rate. None are safe from a necromancer’s rage. If it wasn’t for you, none of us would have been alive today, and there would not be one less necromancer in this world. At least no one else has to fear that fiend’s curse.”

  “No, captain, you’re wrong,” Sawain said in a despairing voice, “That giant was just a pawn. His master is unfathomably more powerful. We need to get your people to Alfhaven. It may be the last safe place in Hammerhold.”

  Jatharr was taken aback by this revelation, “Alfhaven? You may be able to deceive those poor folk out there that it’s a good idea, but I know as well as anyone that the elves are not accommodating of anyone outside of their own. They’d throw us to the wolves!”

  Sawain shrugged, “I’m partially one of their own, maybe I have a shot at getting us in safely. Besides, I have to go to Alfhaven, with or without you. I have a greater destiny now that I have to find out about. Plus, my mother was from Alfhaven. I might actually have family there.”

  Jatharr could not begin to understand the impact of this statement, but it hit Sawain harder than any giant ever could. He had not stopped to think about it before now, but he may actually be able to learn about his mother, and even better, find some real family in the trees of Alfhaven. Family that was not of a bloodline of slavers. The thought caused his stomach to turn.

  Jatharr sighed and patted his shoulder, which hurt just at the light touch, “Alright, Deathsbane. You seem confident in this. Once you are well enough to travel, we will start making our way to Alfhaven. You should rest for now, though. Let’s worry about the elves another day.”