Keep as the gate buckles inward slightly, and then recoils. The crowds of men that brace the gate bounce with it.
“How did they get past the portcullis?” Nathaniel wonders aloud.
“No idea.”
We run down to the lower levels as quickly as we can, until we are behind the gate. Something hammers on it from the outside.
“Orders?” asks a soldier; a captain I’m assuming, by the purple cape. “Orders?”
Jarl Hralfar sits on one of the tables with his feet on the bench normally used for sitting. He only says, “What is the condition of the wall?”
A different captain responds, “Both have been taken. If they don’t get into the front gate, it’s only a matter of time before they breach the towers and enter the Keep.”
After no response, the first captain says again, “Orders, sir?!”
The Jarl shakes his head and mutters softly, “The city is lost.”
Silence pervades the room, though most of us already know that we are not going to be able to retake the city without reinforcements.
“The Keep is not,” responds the captain. “There are still men that can fight within.”
“But to what avail?” says the Jarl. There’s another boom on the gate.
“My Jarl,” says the second captain, “are you suggesting we die?”
“I never suggest death,” he retorts. “I am suggesting a retreat.”
“Where?” both guards ask.
“Under the mountain. You can get out through the waste tunnels.” The hinges of the gate creak as it is hit again.
“What do you mean ‘you’?” asks the first guard.
“Someone has to stay here,” answers the Jarl. “If you leave and no one is left in the Keep, they will give chase and we will surely not get far. Someone has to stay to buy time. The rest can get out safely.”
“What will become of those who stay?”
The Jarl pauses. “I don’t know.” One of the beams on the gate cracks. “Move quickly. Gather the wounded first; they will be the most difficult to transport. Get everyone else out.”
“Jarl, we won’t leave you!”
“You asked for my orders, captain, and these are they!”
“But sir, I-”
“Do as I say!” Hralfar barks.
The captain flinches and nods slowly before questioning, “Why take the wounded? Surely Tygnar will leave those who cannot fight.”
The Jarl takes a deep breath. “Though Tygnar is not so vile as to kill women and children, they will gladly kill those who are of no use to them. They cannot use the wounded.”
“Who will stay?” objects the captain. “It is foolishness; anybody with sense in their head will leave.”
The Jarl turns to tell off the captain, but I interrupt, “I will.” The eyes of my friends and family lock on to me, some of them in shock.
“Apparently he lacks sense,” mutters the captain.
“But he is full of honor,” says the Jarl. “What’s your name, son?”
“Kadmus Armstrong.”
He eyes my hammer. “You’re the young man who killed the troll on the wall?”
“Yes, sir.”
He nods, having to look upward to see into my eyes. “It will be an honor fighting with you.” Then he sticks out his hand. I grasp it and we shake. “Fight well, Kadmus,” he says. He turns to the captains and says, “You’ll need these.” He pulls a small ring of keys out of his pocket and throws it to the first captain, who catches and pockets it. “And don’t forget food for your journey. Every man must bring enough for himself.” Then he walks out of the room.
My father clutches my shoulder. “I’ll be right there with you,” he says.
“And I,” says Percival.
“Me as well,” Bownan responds.
Nathaniel is about to saying something along the same lines, but Father interrupts him. “Nathaniel,” he says.
“I need to fight,” my brother interrupts.
“Your brother and I will be fine,” says my father. “Go help James’s father. He may not be able to get James all the way down and out by himself.” Nathaniel makes to object, but my father cuts him off, “Nathaniel, you have to do this. For me. Let me know at least one of my sons is safe.”
Nathaniel nods and steps back slightly. He says nothing.
Jericho’s father and James’s father each say something about staying with their sons. “Go,” says my father. “Hopefully we will buy you enough time.” They run off a little reluctantly, leaving only me, my father, and Percival.
The gate makes a nasty cracking noise.
In seconds we see men still in their armor, running throughout the halls and down the farthest corridor, down into the depths of Nringnar’s Deep. The only soldiers who stay are the trained guards of Mohonri and their