The Eagle’s Flight - Chapter 234: Sigvard's Might

For the next weeks, the Order army harassed the outlanders to prevent an orderly retreat, separating their forces east and south. Besides this, many also surrendered and were welcomed into Rostam’s growing numbers. The power of the Godking, new or old, had been shattered. Defeat after defeat with losses, desertions, and defections had left Sikandar with only a remnant of the great armies that had invaded Adalmearc.

Yet as the Order army approached Niðheim, it became clear the new Godking did not require more than that to defend his capital. The mountain rose indomitably into the sky. Walls and towers fortified the steep cliffs, impossible to assault. Inside the hollow peak lay provisions and deep wells, allowing a siege to be resisted for years.

The great gate provided the only entry inside, and it appeared impregnable as well. Made with steel and great cunning, it would scorn attacks by rams and any other siege machinery. As the Mearcians stared at the foreboding mountain, dread crept into their camp. With the enormous gate unassailable, the only way in seemed to be scaling the daunting cliffsides, which seemed near impossible as well. The alternative would be a siege that could drag on for years, all the while Sikandar regained his strength and called for aid from the rest of the Reach.

~~~~

Egil sat with crossed legs in his tent. He had a tray in his lap, acting as a hard surface, on which lay pieces of paper full of scribbles. With a few strokes of the pen, he added the current date and some notes concerning the army’s progress and arrival at Niðheim.

The opening was flung aside to let Kate enter. “Jorund is busy,” she said. “He and the other Dwarves are preparing to fight.”

“I didn’t think they’d have any way in.”

“I asked the same. They think they can find a way, or they’ll try to scale the cliffs.”

“That’s mad.” Egil stared in the direction of the mount, hidden by the fabric of the tent. “It’s a damn mountain. They’ll get themselves killed.”

“I told Jorund to stay back, but he just laughed.” Kate shrugged, but her casual gesture was contradicted by her expression as she bit her lip.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Egil’s voice did not hold much conviction.

“Do you think Godfrey knows something? Maybe there’s a secret way in.”

“We could ask. He went to meet the king. We can go find him.”

“I’m not meeting the king,” Kate protested. “I’d die of embarrassment! But they won’t even let us into his tent, I bet.”

“I meant, we wait outside until their meeting is done,” Egil explained with an overbearing tone.

“Oh, right. You don’t have to say it like that. Let’s go.”

The young man and woman left the tent, making their way through the camp. It bustled with activity, as the army had only just arrived and would be preparing for a siege. Above all, defences needed to be erected, including watchtowers for sentinels.

Approaching the king’s tent, the youths arrived just to see Godfrey leave. As they called out to him, he looked at them with slight irritation. “I don’t have time,” he said, brushing them off, and he began walking away.

“We’ll go with you,” Kate said self-assured.

The wanderer stopped abruptly. He looked over his shoulder at the pair, and his expression softened. “You do as I say. Without hesitation or objection.”

“We promise,” Kate told him while Egil nodded vigorously.

“Come along, then.” Godfrey resumed walking.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“To see an old friend.”

~~~~

They walked for hours, going north. Nothing lay ahead except the flat plains; if Godfrey steered towards anything, it was not visible to his companions. Despite their questions, he gave no answers as to their destination.

The day had turned into evening before he finally stopped. He gazed back at the camp that lay in the far distance. Nothing surrounded them. All the Order soldiers were occupied preparing for the siege or establishing control around the mountain. “As good a place as any,” Godfrey mumbled. He held his hand to his pocket, and a sparrow leapt out to land on his palm. He threw his hand up into the air, giving the bird momentum to fly away.

“What was that?” asked Kate.

“Just a messenger. Now we wait.”

“For what?”

“You’ll see.” Godfrey lay down, closing his eyes. “Wake me when you feel it.”

“Feel what?” she asked. A light snore was her only reply.

“I guess we’ll see,” Egil considered.

Kate looked around. “There’s nothing here.” She kicked a rock on the ground.

“Godfrey doesn’t do things without reason.” The young scribe began walking around, scouting in every direction.

“That doesn’t mean his reasons are any good. Maybe he just wanted somewhere quiet to sleep.” Kate did the same as him, but darkness concealed the horizon. Even Niðheim could barely be seen anymore, except for watchfires upon its towers. Similarly, the camp of the Order army was hidden from their sight besides flashes of light.

Growing weary after a while, the youths eventually sat down opposite each other, heads in their hands. “How long do you think we’ll be here?” asked Kate.

“Until Godfrey wakes up, I guess.”

“I mean in the Reach.”

“Oh. No idea.”

“I miss the library.” She sighed.

“Me too. Not the cold, though. It’s warm here.”

“Not at night.” Kate shivered slightly, placing her arms around herself.

“The breeze is picking up.” Just as Egil spoke, a gust of wind made both of them shake.

“Weird. It’s noisy. And it comes and goes.”

“What is that sound?”

They stood up, looking around. The wind came again and again like a giant bellow, making a noise akin to it as well. A shadow passed over the moon, and they both glanced up.

Kate grabbed Egil’s hand. “What’s happening?”

“He is here.” Godfrey opened his eyes and stood up. “Watch. But don’t move.”

The moonlight illuminated the shape of a great, dark figure. Staring with open mouths, the young pair watched as it descended.

With brown scales nearly invisible in the night, Earthwing landed before the great gate. The ground broke asunder bearing the weight and impact of the great wyrm. He opened his jaws. Primordial fire burst from his maw, illuminating the darkness for a moment. The great gate, which could withstand all the devices made by Men, Dwarves, and Elves, twisted and melted under the onslaught.

Advancing quickly, Earthwing placed his claws around the damaged gate and tore it apart, leaving it in the dust. Extending his wings, the drake flew into the air, disappearing as swiftly as he had arrived.

~~~~

The great flash in the night caused a predictable disturbance. In the camp, the soldiers seized weapons and assembled under their banners, ready to fight. Scouts crept out into the dark towards the mountain, searching for enemies.

While the Order soldiers waited to receive commands, the Dwarves saw no reason for hesitation. All of their warriors gathered and began marching towards Niðheim. Thus, they noticed the destroyed gate before others and wasted no time in advancing.

They met a garrison in disarray. Most of the outlanders manned the towers, feeling secure atop the cliffs; none of them expected an attack, least of all through the indomitable gate. The halls resounded of Dwarven battle cries as the red-clad soldiers tried to mount a desperate defence. The rune-marked warriors swept the first resistance aside, and as Order soldiers began to arrive, the battle only grew more one-sided.

The Anausa were already demoralised from past defeats and a long march on retreat. The enemy suddenly appearing within their very halls only served to further break their spirits. Many cast their weapons aside and ran, hiding. Of the few that fought, the attackers easily proved stronger, if nothing else through numbers.

In the throne room, Sikandar had taken the Godking’s seat. He wore the mask on his face and silken robes. Beyond the great doors to the hall, the sounds of battle resonated. They grew louder and louder with all that implied. In his hand, the new Godking had a tight grip on a small vial. As the doors finally burst open and fighting spilled beyond, he tore his mask away and emptied the flask into his mouth. As his royal guards died between the tall pillars stretching endlessly upwards, Sikandar drew his last breath.

~~~~

Jorund swung his axe yet again, renewing the red colour on the edge. Followed by other Dwarves, he fought his way through the hallways and guard rooms that spread like a spider’s web, all to protect the entrance hall and the gate. All in vain. The fury of their onslaught made it seem more like a massacre, and blood covered their faces.

Finally, as the Dwarf kicked another door open, he found no opposition. He stood in a forge, meant for supplying and repairing arms. In a corner sat the smith, crouched together with his legs under his chin. His skin had the brown colour of the earth, but his beard was much longer than what the outlanders wore. He looked up at Jorund.

“Brother, if the overseer catches you with weapons, he will flog you,” he whispered.

Jorund approached him and lay his axe aside on the anvil. He extended one hand to help the other Dwarf to stand. “There are no overseers left, friend.”

The smith stared at his visitor. He traced his finger along Jorund’s sleeve where a blade had torn it open, revealing the skin underneath. Runes in blue and red could be seen. The smith ran his fingers against the markings. “Yours stay,” he said, making large eyes. He showed his own wrist, which likewise had a rune. With the other hand, he rubbed the skin until it became a smudge. “I make them so they disappear. So I don’t get caught.”

“Brother,” Jorund mumbled, “you’ll never have to worry about that again.”

~~~~

“Wait here.” Godfrey gestured for his young companions to remain behind.

“But –”

“No arguments.” He began walking away. It was still night; sunrise would not happen for several hours. This far from the mountain, they could not see what took place at Niðheim.

A sparrow flew down to land in Godfrey’s hand as he moved. He fed it a few crumbs and placed it inside his pocket. Soon, gusts of wind followed, growing in intensity, and he grabbed his hat to keep it from blowing away. As the wanderer stopped, he glanced up at the sky.

Causing cracks to spread along the ground, Earthwing landed before him. Godfrey staggered backwards from the impact before composing himself, looking at the great drake. In turn, Earthwing bowed his head so low, he almost touched the dirt.

“I greet you, my lord.”

“Well met, Kalessin.”

“When the sparrow came, I knew of your presence. But I should have guessed all along your hand was behind the son of Sigvard.”

Godfrey bowed his head in acknowledgement. “We all play our part.”

“Why send him, my lord? If you had simply appeared and bade me come, I would.”

“Precisely for that reason. You would have taken it as command, and it had to be your choice. Who else to ask you this favour than the blood of Sigvard?”

The dragon exhaled, blowing Godfrey’s hair about. “I did as he wished. I opened the way. No blood stains my claws, yet blood has been spilt. Tell me, my lord, am I to blame?”

The wanderer looked down quickly at his own hands before meeting the wyrm’s gaze once more. “Only you can decide that. But you see now why it had to be your choice, and yours alone.”

“I understand, my lord. Ah, to spread my wings once more. I had forgotten the taste of flight, as I forgot the scent of grass or touch of rain. Yet I think it is time I retire to my sleep.”

“It is well deserved, my old friend.”

“What of you, my lord? Is your travail at an end?”

Now it was Godfrey’s turn to exhale, though the effect was less marked. “I have a few loose ends. Who knows? Perhaps I will return. But I do believe I have earned going home.”

“Undoubtedly. I bid you farewell, my lord.”

“Fare you well,” Godfrey replied. With a quick beating of his wings, the drake rose into the air and flew away.

The wanderer stood, watching the great shape disappear into the darkness of the night before he turned to walk back. He had not come far before a pair of excited voices greeted him.

“What did you talk about?”

“What did he say?”

“That is between him and me,” Godfrey declared sternly. “Be quiet and follow me. We should get back to camp. You have a long journey home, and I expect it will begin soon, if not already tomorrow.”

“Really? We’re going home?” asked Kate.

“The king is eager to return. Especially as he has received news good and bad.”

“What news?” asked Egil.

“The war in Thusund is at an end, and Queen Svana has placed her fleet at the king’s disposal. Yet the southerners have begun the siege of Herbergja, with mercenaries pouring in from the South. I do believe a forced march lies ahead of you, to save the western realms of Adalmearc.”

~~~~

The battle for Niðheim ended before the sun rose. By then, all of the garrison had died, surrendered, or hid themselves deeper inside the city complex. The Dwarves set about releasing all the thralls they could find and laying claim to every area of importance.

Rostam and his followers arrived during the day, seeking the safety of the craftsmen and others of their people inside the mountain. Quarrel soon arose between him and the Dwarves, leaving Godfrey to act as mediator between the two parties.

As for the Mearcians, the wanderer’s prediction came true. The Order soldiers quickly retreated once it became clear opposition was broken, returning outside to dismantle their camp. With the new Godking dead and his priesthood decimated, the king of Adalmearc left the war in the Reach in the hands of Rostam and his rebels. Instead, he turned his army north in a hurried march back to his own lands.