Hammerhold Tales: Thrallborn

Chapter Twelve

Sawain and Jatharr made their way back into the chaotic streets. As soon as he opened the door, a horrible, yet familiar smell reached Sawain's nose. It was the stench of burning flesh. He had attended many thrallpyres in his lifetime, but the aroma was unique, and he never could get used to it.

He shook off the sickening sensation in his stomach and followed Jatharr to the pile of burning corpses, where another halfling in guard armor stood watch. Sawain could not tell if the clean streaks on his dirty face were from tears or sweat. He had the same heart broken glaze in his eyes that his living comrades wore. When the captain approached him, he gave a salute.

"Captain, the bodies have been gathered and burned as you requested. What will you have us do now, sir?"

Jatharr laid a sympathetic hand on the guard's shoulder for a moment, sharing a silent acknowledgment of grief. He let his hand drop and addressed the guard.

"I want ye and the rest of the Lower Third to make yer way to the city gate. Kill anything that should be dead on yer way. Their weakness is fire, so keep it on hand. I brought up some torches from the armory, make good use of them. Deathsbane and I will cut our way through the enemy and try to unite the surviving militia. Take care of yer brothers, Renell."

The guard saluted again, "Will do, Captain. You two be careful, and best of luck to you both."

Jatharr turned to Sawain, looking a bit worried, "Are ye sure yer up for this, Deathsbane? I can--"

Sawain lifted a hand to cut the captain off, "I'm fine captain. Wouldn't be my first brush with death. I can handle myself."

Jatharr nodded, a more confident smile on his gruff face, "Very well. Lead us through this dark time and you will be a hero to my people."

A hero to my people.

The words repeated through Sawain's mind and brought new life into his weary limbs. He was finally going to realize his dream. This battle was no longer a fight for survival to him, but a fight to glory. He shouldered his war hammer and nodded grimly to Jatharr, trying to hide his giddiness.

"Very well, Captain. I won't let you down. Let's be on our way."

Jatharr returned the nod then checked his buckler and pulled a torch from his pack. He held it to the bonfire until it ignited. His dark words would forever leave an impression in Sawain's mind of the true ferocity of the halfling people.

"This sacred flame burns by the blood of my fallen brethren. It is a flame of vengeance and I am its bearer. I fight with an army of many as long as my flame burns. Come, Deathsbane, let us find the source of this evil and put a stop to it."

A chill ran down Sawain's spine from the base of his skull to the small of his back. It was an electrifying sensation that strengthened him even more. He was beginning to see why Jatharr's men would stand, fight and die for him, even when the odds were overwhelmingly against them.

Without another word, the pair of warriors left the sad scene at the Lower Third headquarters and moved on to the sound of chaos. It did not take them long to find it. They emerged on the street that ran alongside the gorge and beheld a terrible sight.

Across the chasm, on every level, the dead overwhelmed the living. They feasted on fallen corpses in writhing masses while the death-screams of their still living victims echoed off of the walls. Jatharr pointed right from where they emerged.

"Lower First is in that direction. They may still be fighting, but we are going to have to cut our way through the Lower Second territory to get to it."