The Hammer Blow

“There weren’t always dragons in the valley,” Castrofus, a soldier of the King’s Guard spoke in a quiet weary voice. Finishing his thought with a sigh, he pulled his battle-worn cloak closer to his body.

Around two small fires, a party of six men sat huddled. The fires were being left to die now that night was truly upon them. One of them, Amandus, rubbed his forehead with a dirty hand, trying, in vain, to relieve the tension he felt. It would be a long night; dark, wet, and cold in the cave.

“We don’t know that there are dragons there now,” Amandus responded. He looked at Castrofus and then they both glanced to their charge, a young man, Alaric, who seemed to stare blankly ahead.

The men were trying to pass the night as quietly as possible to avoid detection. The cave they had found was shallow, but well enough off the road within the dense forest. The fires were a risk they knew but a necessity for warmth; on this cool and wet day of traveling, their cloaks and boots were soaked through. Their armored breastplates and gauntlets had trapped the wet close to their bodies.

“The last time I came through here, it was a lush green valley, a welcoming place. Odomo, the city upon the hill, overlooking the fields, is a haven for travelers. One can find anything there- lodging, food, markets, ale...” Amandus trailed off, remembering better times, “Your father and I, our hunting parties, we’d stopped there many times.” He tried to make eye contact with Alaric, but the younger man did not stir. Amandus reached across and touched Alaric’s knee.

“But when was that, Sir Amandus?” Castrofus asked.

“The spring before last...”

“So more than a year ago. Seems like a lot in this world has changed in a year.”

Amandus grunted in response. He knew Castrofus was right. His gaze rested on Alaric, still unmoving.

They were all poorly dressed for the conditions, poorly armed, and without provisions. It was only the night before that they had fled for their lives, taking only what was on their back. Each had the dressings of battle: armor, helmet, broadsword, dagger, and cloak. Alaric, the youngest, had only the wool tunic and thin cloak he had been wearing in the Palace. Perhaps as a small mercy, the events of the previous night so addled Alaric’s mind that he had not felt the cold that day as they traversed the kingdom.

“So as I understand it, no one in our party has been to the valley or Odomo in the last year?” Amandus asked, looking over at the other three soldiers who had been silently warming themselves. All nodded or mumbled an affirmative. “So we don’t have much information to go on…”

Guntram, a younger soldier, scoffed in aggravation. “Sir Amandus, please, not after last night are you going to continue to pretend that you don’t know what is going on! You must tell us what you know,” he spoke quickly, “Especially-” Guntram gestured towards Alaric “-because of him.”

Alaric did not move or acknowledge the words being exchanged around him. The other soldiers shifted uncomfortably.

He must be in shock, Amandus thought, and allowed his gaze to fall down into the fire and he thought of the night before. He, Amandus, Steward to King Clovis II, had been present as the City of Lauduno, the jewel and capital of the kingdom, had fallen. He had witnessed the murder of the King and his Queen, Audovera. He had watched young Alaric try in vain to save his parents.

It had started in the late afternoon, distant and low, but with increasing ferocity, the sound of the dragon’s wings as they circled the city. Amandus had heard their whispers and enchantments raining down, piercing his mind and those around him. He had seen the army of Lord Bertachar. An army of ordinary soldiers and people, but turned Dicio, the name given to those enchanted by dragon magic. The army was relentless and brutal in their attacks, seemingly without care for their own lives.

With force, Amandus had pulled Alaric away from the scene of his parent’s slaughter in the Great Hall. With these four loyal guards, the party escaped Lauduno through the route built into the back of the city in the days of Alaric’s grandfather, Clovis I.

They had waited out that night at a safe distance outside the city, hoping against hope for signs of victory for the armies of Lauduno, but fully aware that such hope was foolish. Instead, they watched the city burn: the wooden and straw roofed homes on the outskirts burned quickly while the contents of the stone structures- the palace, the cathedral, the homes of nobles–smoldered. They heard the sound of walls crumbling and watched as the towers of the Palace fell. Eventually, Amandus saw the colors of Lauduno torn from the ramparts, and he knew it was time to flee.

Now, Amandus and four other soldiers were rushing the heir to the throne of Lauduno to the Kingdom of Auseno. The land of Alaric’s mother was allied to Lauduno through the marriage of Clovis and Audovera. Amandus hoped for refuge, for assistance, and an army to fight Bertachar. But after what he had seen the night before, Amandus did not know what kind of army could hope to stand against him.

But for the moment, Amandus’ only concerns were bringing Alaric back to his senses, the valley ahead, and getting the party to safety.

“My God, before last night, we…” Guntram continued when Amandus failed to speak up. Guntram was young, but already hardened by his upbringing. He had a long scar down his face from a fight he had won as a young boy. “I mean, we thought these Dicio were just small bands of lawless criminals, loners, outliers, controllable by law and order. And where did Bertachar’s monstrous army come from? How? It must be far worse than you're saying if you're trying to get Prince Alaric clear out of the Kingdom!” Guntram gestured to the soldiers, not trying to hide his exasperation at the steward's silence.

Amandus could not focus on anything but Alaric. “Guntram, give us a moment. Then we will talk. Could you leave us?” Amandus asked the soldiers, though he would have ordered them if necessary. They nodded, Guntram rolled his eyes, but they all slid off into the darkness of the cave.

“Lord Alaric?” He asked quietly. Alaric did not stir. Amandus had served the kings of Lauduno his entire life, rising to be Clovis’ steward and most trusted companion. He had been responsible for Alaric’s education, mentored him, taught him to fight, prepared him for his future role, but nothing had prepared either of them for this moment.

“Alaric, we don’t have time for this. You will grieve for your parents and for your kingdom. But you will not grieve now. We serve you,” Amandus paused, “I serve you, as I did your father, and now, we need you to lead. You need to decide how we get to Auseno. You are the rightful King of Lauduno.”

Alaric’s eyes lifted to meet Amandus’ in the dark.

“Ah, so you are in there!” Amandus tried to smile; it felt unnatural in the moment, forced.

Alaric was in his early twenties, but still in many ways a boy. His father, Clovis II, a beloved and strong king, had given Alaric little responsibility and even less guidance. Clovis II believed in the peace and prosperity that had been won by his father. He believed this would be the world he was leaving his son. He believed so strongly that he ignored his son, Lord Bertachar, Dicio, and the threats to the kingdom. It was Amandus who prepared Alaric. Twenty years the king's senior, Amandus had seen the days of war before the peace. He knew how quickly things could change.

Amandus sought to grab Alaric’s attention by calling him the Rightful King and to bring him out of his stupor by giving him the responsibility of command over the small party. Amandus would not let Alaric slip away.

“King,” Alaric said slowly. The embers of the fire were burning low, the black exterior of the wood traversed and cracked by red glowing interiors. “This is not how I wanted to become king.”

“Of course it isn’t.”

“King of what? There’s nothing left of the Capital. How can we possibly fight Bertachar…that army…my father. Oh my God, Mother,” Alaric felt his voice rise in volume and speed.

Amandus stopped him, “My Lord,” he heard the other men shuffling in the cave, on guard in case Alaric had been too loud and had attracted the attention of Dicio. “You can’t go down this route of questioning now. There are those that are loyal to you, to your house. There are those that will fight. But for right now, we need to get to safety. We need to get to the other side of the valley, to the coast, and we need to cross the Brivi Sea to Auseno. Once there, we can plan, we can raise an army, we can rally whoever is left to your side.”

Alaric thought of Auseno; the relief he would feel once on those shores. Safety. His mother’s home. The Brivi Sea between him and Lord Bertachar. He thought of the flowers his mother had brought over from the gardens in Auseno, what it would mean to be close to those blossoms again.

“You’re right, Amandus. As always,” Alaric pretended confidence with a smile, and Amandus accepted it, hearing the steadfastness of Alaric’s voice, understanding his first task was done, even if both were pretending. “The road through the valley then, is it the most direct to the coast?” Alaric clenched his teeth and swallowed hard to steady himself and hold back his emotions. King, the word moved in his mind, he had to act like one. That is what his father would have wanted. That is what Amandus wants now. He must remember his training and his composure.

“Yes, Lord, it is,” Amandus whistled low, signaling the other soldiers to join. The circle around the fire was completed, “The road is the most direct through the valley, but the dangers are unknown. It takes us right by a densely populated city,” Amandus had more to say, but Guntram cut him off.

“Sir Amandus, if we are to protect the King, you need to tell us everything you know about our enemy. Everything you know about the threats that await us,” Guntram spoke quickly.

Amandus was too weary to continue the lines of denial that Clovis had so perfected. He was annoyed with Guntram for pressing, but knew the young soldier was right, and they all deserved to know more. This group of soldiers were sheltered from so much, stationed only at the Capital.

“I don’t have time now to tell you all that I could. But let me start by saying that no one in Lauduno, none of King Clovis’ advisors, and least of all the King himself had any idea that Lord Bertachar could summon and control an army of Dicio. Bertachar’s sorcery is clearly far greater than we feared. What I do know is that there are Dicio all over the kingdom…”

“What?” Castrofus gasped, “So the rumors are true!”

“Keep it down,” Amandus spoke low, “We don’t know how many Dicio there are or why or how people become enchanted by dragon magic. We don’t know why some don’t become enchanted. We do know that over the last year, reports from the mayors of villages and towns around the kingdom were coming in that murders and more crimes that I don’t care to innumerate, have been occurring in increasing numbers. When people have been arrested for their crimes, interrogated, detained, they all seem normal enough, if deranged and without remorse for their crimes.”

Guntram was nodding, “So it’s the dragons. They are possessed. Kill the dragons, release the people?”

“It’s Lord Bertachar,” Amandus replied, “He controls the dragons, he creates the dragons. Beyond that, I don’t know.”

Castrofus shook his head in disbelief, “We don’t know who is Dicio until they’ve committed some violence, and then it’s actually our fellow citizens who are enchanted, not acting of their own free will?”

“Yes, exactly. You see why we kept these reports quiet now, don’t you? King Clovis didn’t want his kingdom tearing itself apart,” Amandus paused. He knew that there were other reasons why Clovis kept this secret. Amandus has begun to suspect that Clovis’ denial and ignorance of the reports coming in from around the kingdom was bordering on derangement. But he would not say that now, not in this company, not on this night.

“But if we hear dragons, we should know that there are Dicio present?” Guntram asked, “Like in the City last night?”

“You don’t always hear the dragons…” Amandus was responding.

“Meaning we do not know if dragons are present when Dicio are active?” Alaric spoke up, forcing himself to interrupt and to use his steady voice.

Amandus smiled under his beard, “That is correct my Lord.”

“And your plan, the one that takes us to Auseno, that is because there are no reports of Dicio there? And we know not whom to trust if we stay in the Kingdom of Lauduno?”

“Also correct my Lord.”

The men continued to discuss their options. They had no way of knowing if they were being pursued or if anyone knew that the Prince and soldiers had escaped the City of Lauduno. They hoped that in the chaos, a disfigured body had been assumed to be Alaric or they had given up looking for him, assuming him among the dead and charred remains. But Lord Bertachar was a wielder of unknown power, a sorcerer, and his dragons possessed powers that none in the party understood. What Bertachar knew, and how he knew it, was simply a mystery. They had to assume they were being pursued, that time was their only advantage and that getting to the coast, with all haste, was their best chance at safety.

“And if we go around?” Alaric asked.

“Well, Lord, if we go south, it would be about ten days, maybe twelve to go around the mountains to the coast. Then we’d also have to sail north to get to Auseno,” Castrofus responded, “If we go North, it will take even longer by land. Fourteen, fifteen, maybe sixteen days.”

“And the threat of dragons, of Dicio, will be with us all the while,” Amandus interjected.

“But not like it is in the valley, since we would pass no large settlements if we go to the north or south” Guntram interjected.

“To cross the valley, how long?” Alaric asked.

“Yes, a bit less to cross the valley and get to the coast. Likely three days in the valley and two more to cross the forest on the other side. Five or six days.”

Alaric shook his head, letting it fall forward as his gaze rested on the dark Earth of the cave. It was a decision that made itself, but was also impossible to make. How could one possibly choose the right path with such shoddy information? Auseno, the flowers, his mother, safety. Amandus clearly thought it was the best choice. The decision was made.

“We go across the valley,” Alaric said with force.

Amandus nodded. He could see Castrofus looking around at the others, questioning, Guntram stood up. “Our Rightful King has made his decision.”

Morning had arrived, but so had the rain. The light, instead of filtering down from a sunlit sky, seemed to grow up from the Earth. All was dim. The rain was steady; large droplets hit the full leaves of the forest trees with hard thuds. It was a rain that could go on for hours.

Guntram was on watch, standing at the opening of the cave under a rock outcrop with moss above him. His brown cloak served as perfect camouflage. He left his golden helmet on the ground next to his feet, and his arm rested easily on the hilt of his sword.

Alaric watched Guntram from the opposite side of the cave opening, he hoped, without Guntram noticing. He could not help but feel inadequate compared to this soldier, of nearly his own age, but appearing so much more composed, aged, and wise. Anyone, Alaric thought, would make a better king than he, including Guntram. He recalled the conversation from the previous night. He remembered his own words, his first order as King. He wondered if the others, Soldiers of the King’s Guard, his guard, had seen through his acting, had known that he was feigning confidence.

“Good morning, Lord Alaric,” Amandus came up behind Alaric and brought him out of his reverie. Alaric did not turn to look at Amandus, afraid he would lose his ability to speak with authority to the man who he had spent more time with than his own father.

“My father knew more about this conflict than he told me.” It was a statement, but he paused for Amandus to respond.

He heard Amandus sigh, “Yes, Lord.”

“You will tell me, then, what I should know?”

“Yes. Once we are in Auseno?”

“Hmm,” Alaric replied, “How about on the boat to Auseno?”

“As you wish, Lord.”

“Another thing, Amandus, and be honest. Was the City of Lauduno infested with Dicio?” The thought, among many others, had kept Alaric up the night before.

“No, my lord, it wasn’t. And that was the point of confusion for your father, myself, and others.”

“It made it easier for my father to deny their existence,” Alaric spoke in a near whisper and dropped his gaze to his feet. At the thought of his father, his composure failed.

Amandus decided to change the subject. “We should leave shortly, but may I suggest that we switch clothing?”

Alaric, despite himself, found a chuckle, “No one is going to mistake you for a Prince, even in my clothes!"

Amandus smiled, “No, they won’t, but they will think me but another noble, and no one will assume you are the King, my Lord.” Alaric sighed, but consented.

With their clothing changed, Alaric felt even more foolish. He pulled the belt of Amandus’ tunic tighter, squared his shoulders, and puffed his chest out, trying to fill out the folds. On his belt, Alaric had a dagger and on his back, he had a bow and quiver. The weapons were not his, but he had not been armed in the palace. Alaric was skilled with a sword, at least in training situations, and he would have felt more comfortable all together adequately armed and dressed.

They descended down from the cave towards the road, marching swiftly in the direction of the valley. The rain had ceased, but the clouds and the damp lingered.

At the edge of the valley, they reentered the forest and lay down among the brush and tree trunks.

“I don’t like this at all Sir,” Guntram spoke to Amandus, “We’ll be wide open as we cross the valley. We can’t even see to the end, who knows what we will encounter.”

Guntram was right. The wide, green-fielded valley was traversed by a dirt road and on either side, waist high grass swayed. There was no one out, but a few small wooden huts dotted the landscape. Smoke was coming from the chimneys as, no doubt, breakfasts were being prepared for the farmers. It was nearly time to cut the grass for the last time that season.

On either side of the valley, the mountains shot up as black rock outcrops. To the south side of the valley stood Odomo, a stone city cut into the mountainside, accessible by a wide staircase, and at one time, a luxurious funicular.

“How long until we reach Odomo?” Alaric asked. The road curved to the south to bring travelers close to the city.

“That’s not too far. It’ll be a couple of hours to the city.” Amandus shifted on the forest floor. Alaric’s tunic pulled at his arms and was tight across the chest.

“What about stopping there for food and provisions? We can’t make it five or six more days without eating,” Alaric looked around at the others.

“It’s risky, but, my Lord, you’re right, we should stop. There used to be a market not too far within the city walls,” Amandus confirmed.

“The good thing is, we don’t see anyone right now,” Castrofus chimed in. Guntram rolled his eyes.

“That’s short sighted. We have no idea who is watching from Odomo. No idea who is up on those mountain tops,” Guntram argued back.

“We don’t have a choice now…” Castrofus said.

“There is always a choice…” Guntram cut him off.

“Stop,” Amandus commanded, “King Alaric, does your decision stand?”

Guntram scoffed under his breath.

“It is,” Alaric confirmed, ignoring Guntram entirely.

“Alright, then, we move, single file, quickly, no stopping. Stay on high alert, but try to not act suspicious. We are just travelers. If we encounter a problem, head for Odomo, we can use the city as cover. Otherwise, we improvise. Leave identifying Lauduno armor here. We don’t want to look like the King’s Guard. Understood?” Amandus gave his orders.

Single file on the valley road they marched. Everything was quiet, just the sound of the grass in the wind. Alaric’s heart was racing. The mountains on either side were too far away to make out if anyone was hiding among the rocks. The quiet was unsettling. Alaric doubted his decision.

They turned to follow the road to Odomo. Alaric could see all the rectangular buildings jutting up into the mountainside, the flags flying from atop the buildings. He thought he could hear the sounds of people in the city. He saw what looked like a woman beating a rug outside her window. The city was bathed in white that made it a beacon against the black rocks of the mountains. As they got closer, Alaric saw the staircase, and at the base, the funicular car. It was clear that the once opulent mode of transportation had been abandoned and fallen into disrepair. It was out of place with the composed city.

Amandus stopped in his tracks.

“What is it?” Alaric asked, the adrenaline pumping through him, his face flushing.

“Shh,” Amandus responded quickly. The others stopped.

It was a sound that started low and distant. The flapping of wings. The air around them began to move differently, not like a breeze coming from some distance, but like rushes coming from above. Amandus closed his eyes, but for a moment, settled himself into the understanding of what was happening. Dragons. And with them, there must be Dicio.

Alaric frantically looked around him. Words, he heard whispering, chanting, on the air. It was just like the other night in Lauduno. The sound surrounded him. The hair on his arms stood on end and chills went down his spine. The voices were not human; they penetrated his mind, filling him. Amandus grabbed his arm and shook.

“Alaric!” he was nearly shouting, “To Odomo, now!” They began running.

From their hiding spots in the grass, men rose and ran screaming after the soldiers and Alaric.

Amandus held firm to Alaric’s arm, he would not let their pace lag. Amandus knew they were out-numbered. He knew they needed to get to Odomo, needed to hide or get their backs up against something to funnel their enemies. He wondered vaguely if Odomo’s guard would come to their aid, but he doubted that any help would come.

As they closed in on the city, Amandus saw the old funicular car. It was made of ornate metal.

“They’re gone!” Alaric shouted, “Guntram!”

The other four soldiers were dead or lost. Amandus knew they were on their own and nearing the base of the city. The great walls jutted up, one hundred feet vertically before them. There was no one else, no one was coming.

Amandus threw Alaric into the open funicular car, slamming the grated door behind him. Amandus was on the outside. Alaric yelled for him, but within seconds, he saw the blade of a broad sword thrust through Amandus and into the car. Then another. Alaric backed up, hitting the backside of the car. He stared at Amandus, directly in the eyes. The swords were pulled out, and Amandus’ dying body fell backwards.

Standing behind where Amandus fell were two men, eyes dark, grinning. “You’re stuck boy,” one spoke.

In a quick move, Alaric thrust forward and shut the inner metal door to the funicular car. It latched. The sides of the car were solid and thick, and now with the inner door closed, he was fully protected from their attacks. But he was indeed stuck.

He was in a metal box with a small dagger. He had lost the bow somewhere along the way, not that the three arrows he had would do him any good. Alaric’s hands shook. He heard shuffling outside. This is how I die, he thought and pictured the last look on Amandus’ face.

“Thief! God-damned little thief!” Merovech grabbed the arm of the figure in front of him, “You and your kind need to be wiped from this Earth. Dicio filth!” He yanked and pulled the offender towards him, surprised by the lack of resistance, the thief bumped full force into his chest. Up from the hooded cloak, two clear green eyes arrested him, a face framed with wavy black hair. It was a young woman, definitely not Dicio. He paused, confused and shocked. She kneed him in the gut, and then clenched her hands together and upper cut him in the jaw as he bent over in pain from the first blow. It was strong, but not strong enough to stop him. He grabbed her cloak and threw her up against the wall, pinning her with his forearm, he drew his blade.

“Give back what is mine, show penance and I may release you.”

“I’ve never seen you before. I’ve got nothing of yours!” Itta struggled against the blade and then recoiled, feeling it pierce her skin.

“Is that so? You lie too.” Merovech stepped back, holding her with his sword, he reached to her belt and with a strong twist, pulled free a dagger. “This,” he held it up, “is mine.”

“That’s impossible, I took that off a…” Itta stopped and smirked. “Fine, it’s yours. Have it back. I’ve no use for trinkets I can’t sell.” She remembered taking that dagger off the hilt of an inebriated soldier of King Clovis’ Guard, ex-soldier at the time actually, after he had drunkenly recounted his entire sad-sap story to the whole tavern. Now here he was, acting as some self-righteous piece of shit.

Merovech lowered his sword.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

“You say that like you know me well enough to know where I should and should not be.”

“Huh?” Merovech furrowed his brow in confusion, “No, I say that like someone who knows that Odomo is no place for a…well, you know… and you shouldn’t be stealing either. It’s disappointing to see a young woman take such a dark turn.”

Itta leaned back into the wall and crossed her arms. They were in a small room of an abandoned home on the lower level of Odomo, which, of course, was still high up, just above the city wall. The stone walls of the house itself, once white, were now graying a bit. Whoever had lived here, left in haste, and no one bothered to move in and claim it, until Itta. Her stay was only temporary though.

She had descended down the mountain into Odomo the week before. Rumor had it that there was a particularly high concentration of Dicio in Odomo, and while they were busy fighting themselves, they left behind all types of treasures. Itta had come to loot the city. So far, all she had found was Merovech.

“And here’s another thing…” Merovech was still lecturing her.

“Take a look around, old man, the world we live in is very different from the flower garden you grew up in. I do what I need to, and I don’t need shit from you…”

“Flower garden! Don’t you dare assume to know my life. If you only knew…”

Itta began to make her way to the window of the room with the intent of slipping out onto the rooftop of the building beside, thus ending this encounter and continuing on her way.

“Wait, stop!” Merovech grabbed her. They both heard it.

“Dragons. Shit.” It was not often you heard them so clearly. Itta and Merovech huddled down against the wall, “They aren’t above us.” Itta cautiously raised her head, looking out the window. The building they were in was just above the city wall, high enough to have a clear view of the valley and the road to Odomo. She peered out “There’s a party out there on the road."

Merovech followed her lead, watching. They saw the Dicio rise from the grass; they saw the men running. “Oh my God.”

“They’re not going to make it…there are too many Dicio” Itta wanted to recoil, but she could not.

“There’s so much violence in this city, the Odomo Guard has given up enforcing, especially outside the wall. Those men are on their own. But I can’t stand idly by! If they do make it to the wall, I’ll be there to help. Stay here.” Merovech rose, proud and ready to descend Odomo.

“Like Hell I’m staying here; I won’t pass up on a chance to take out a few Dicio,” Itta jumped from the window. Merovech hung his head in frustration, and then clumsily followed her lead.