Book of Kayal: Strength of Unity Read online

  “Excelsis Dignus, we are at your command.” King Ragnar bowed, leading the others to mimic him.

  Ganis slowly circled the Highborn king. She was far smaller than him and felt dwarfed by the defeated man. “Bring me your strongest warrior from the ones amongst us.”

  At a signal from King Ragnar, Bjor the Boneless approached her, standing out from the crowd.

  Ganis then looked behind her at Percival. He moved into the clearing still ready from Ganis’ show of strength the day before and waited. “Your warrior against mine. Commence when you please.”

  She stood firmly, both her hands resting on Eos by her side as she watched the warriors prepare. The circle of spectators moved to account for Ganis’ choice of spot.

  Bjor obeyed the command, without seeking approval from his father, and so did Percival. The two warriors, stripped from weapon and armor, stood facing one another. Percival, as usual, was dwarfed by his opponent. Bjor looked at Ganis, seeking permission to commence. She nodded and he raised both fists.

  The two combatants took a few steps back, keenly observing each other. Percival followed Ganis’ lead from the previous duel and lunged at his adversary. His attempts were futile against Bjor, most punches and kicks missing their intended mark and the few which landed did no notable damage. In but a few moments, Percival’s neck lay in Bjor’s arms. A cub in a lion’s grip.

  With no expression to betray her intentions, Ganis said, “Your warrior bested mine. Do you not agree that he is the stronger of the two?”

  “I do, Razul. Bjor is clearly the stronger.”

  “And what would you expect should your second strongest and another of the Dignii join the fight?”

  “The same outcome, Razul.”

  Ganis then looked at Dindrane and nodded. King Ragnar did the same to another Highborn. They both entered the circle. Bjor released Percival and returned to his end of the dueling circle. Percival cracked his neck in preparation for the second round. He looked at Dindrane, shrugging a disappointing look, and offered a grunt. Ivar, Ragnar’s youngest son, stood beside Bjor, his brother.

  “Commence,” Ganis ordered.

  All four contestants raised their fists, the Highborn having no particular form while the Parthans moved in unison. This time the Parthans held their position, allowing the Highborn to attack first. Both Highborn charged simultaneously, each focusing on the twin ahead of him.

  Percival and Dindrane switched places. The Highborn kept their targets and crashed into one another during a narrow-sighted rush. Judging from their reaction, the audience had not anticipated the move. Making fools out of their opponents would not help the Parthans defeat them, just aggravate them, or so the Highborn thought.

  The twins did not allow the dazed Highborn to recover and simultaneously launched their attacks on Bjor, the contender they had observed the most. Percival rushed towards his back and locked his arms in a tight grip around his opponent’s neck, Dindrane distracting him with kicks and punches as her brother maneuvered.

  Ivar, recovered and able, then rushed to his brother’s aid, still focusing his attention on Percival, but Dindrane tripped him. He fell with a loud thump, yet quickly regained his composure. Bjor fell unconscious, allowing Percival to safely release him.

  Distracted by Percival, who masterfully taunted him with feints, Ivar found his neck locked in Dindrane’s grasp, as his brother’s was in Percival’s. It did not take the struggling Highborn much time to lose consciousness.

  King Ragnar observed in shock as his two sons, two of the strongest Highborn, were quickly defeated by the Dignii.

  When the fight was concluded and the ruckus subsided, Ganis said, “You see, King Ragnar, each of your warriors is stronger than each of mine, yet two of them are no match to two of mine.”

  “What sorcery is this?” the king retorted as he stood up.

  Ganis’ tone dried as she responded to the accusation, “Sorcery? Have you forgotten your place, King Highborn?”

  King Ragnar stepped back, realizing his offense.

  “Without unity opposing him, the solitary strong prevails. Yet a unified group of weaker members is always superior.” Ganis approached the two limp Scands.

  King Ragnar fell silent, contemplating Ganis’ words. He then rose his head and forced his eyes to meet Ganis’. “Razul, will you guide us?”

  “Will you contest my command?”

  “Never.”

  “Then you will unite with the Midland villages.”

  Unsettling words to the King. “An alliance with these maggots!”

  “You contest my command?” She approached him, still resting her hands on Eos, yet tightly gripping the hilt with her sword arm.

  King Ragnar retreated. “I apologize, Razul. It will not happen again.”

  “Indeed it will not.” She walked away, leaving her back exposed, sending a message that she did not deem him enough of a threat to hide her weaknesses from him. “Scandur will unite with the Midland villages or perish. It was foretold.”

  “As you wish, Razul.” King Ragnar nodded his head in submission.

  None of the other Highborn contested the act. They knew if Ganis could defeat their leader with such ease, as she had demonstrated a day before, none of them stood a chance against her. Then there were the Parthans, a mysteriously capable force. They feared that which they could not understand, as all people did.

  The Highborn, inhabitants of Scandur and bearers of Eos’ will, did not fully understand what Ganis intended, or her demonstration, but they did understand, and respect, strength, and a warrior possessing these qualities would gain their unwavering loyalty. With Eos’ guidance, Ganis knew that.

  “From the beacon our ancestors built long ago, Eos returns as intended,” the Highborn repeated the chant.

  5

  With the Highborn swayed to the wishes of Eos, it was his turn to hold his end of the bargain. Eos would help Ganis find Naa’tas, and slay him if need be.

  The Highborn by the Parthans’ side would certainly make the Midlanders listen to the Parthans, Ganis thought. It was a good plan.

  Hephaestion, the curious scholar, found himself in an enviable position. He had access to all the knowledge he wanted from the Highborn. No secrets would be kept from him; no hindrances offered at his investigations.

  Approaching Bjor, who stood wearily at the walls of Scandur eyeing the distant horizon, Hephaestion asked, “Have you recently made contact with other Indignus?”

  Bjor looked at him, physically looking down at the Parthan yet his eyes held great respect for the man, who had only proven himself by association to Ganis and the twins. “Last time we met any Indignus was a little over four seasons ago, Dignus.”

  “What did they say?”

  Bjor produced a brief hum. “They attacked us. It was a futile attempt with no words exchanged. One day we spotted them entering our lands with an army headed towards Scandur Keep. They were met with all our might and few of them survived the onslaught.”

  Hephaestion’s eyes widened. He struck gold. “Tell me more. Did they bear any flags or banners?”

  “They bore no banners and fought in an orderly manner we have never seen before, yet they were not unified like you and the other Dignii. In spite of the Indignii’s familiarity with the lands, Scandur fought with no challenge that day.”

  Hephaestion wondered for a moment. He looked at the plains ahead of him, with snow covering all in sight, and tried to imagine a battle between Scands and other Indignii – a term that the Parthans had become familiar with. “Do you know of a man named Naa’tas? We’re looking for him.”

  “It’s a name not foreign to my ears. Perhaps the prisoner might know something about him.”

  “Prisoner!” Hephaestion was surprised that his newfound allies, the merciless Highborn who viewed weakness as reason enough to kill, kept prisoners, yet glad to hear of the opportunity to finally meet someone who knew of Naa’tas. “I must speak to King Ragnar at once.”

  Bj
or’s eyes indicated a shift in the man’s image to the Highborn. “You must speak to King Ragnar! While many of us consider you Dignus, as the other unproven folk in your crew, only three of you have been tested. You have no power over us.”

  Mere words would not be enough for Hephaestion to continue his investigation. He was wrong about his status among the Highborn, and about the freedom he had to pursue the knowledge he wished for. But the Parthan captain had not become the man he was this day without the courage and wits to persuade others. “Perhaps you have mistaken your own place, Bjor. Ganis follows my command, not the other way around. Imagine how strong I must be to have her serve under me.”

  A compelling argument. Bjor was convinced, and worried of his insubordination. He proceeded to guide Hephaestion to King Ragnar’s throne room.

  “Ganis!” gaining her immediate attention, Hephaestion interrupted the discussion between her and King Ragnar. “A thread at last!”

  Nearly a season of traveling with Hephaestion made her understand his vague metaphors. “Then we must move at once.”

  “King of the Scands,” Hephaestion said, “may we speak to your prisoner?”

  King Ragnar looked at Ganis and said, “I apologize, Excelsis Dignus, for not telling you of this earlier.”

  Excelsis Dignus, Hephaestion though. So she finally accepted the title.

  “You have not had enough time to tell me of all which had happened during the time Eos was away.”

  King Ragnar nodded and started telling the tale of the prisoner. “Four seasons ago we were attacked by a group of Indignii. They came with an orderly army and marched on Scandur Keep. As Highborn we could not forgive such transgression and met the army on the field.

  “A battle erupted and we emerged victorious without any notable casualties. Many of the invaders escaped before we could cut them down, the rest we executed. The last of them was to be executed by my hand, but a stranger appeared. He stopped me from the act with some cunning sorcery.

  “He branded himself ‘Volition’ and gave me a choice between executing the prisoner and keeping her confined. The shady man never explained what the outcome of my choice would be, but he said that it would bear an impact on my people greater than any other action I will take. I kept her alive, knowing that it would be an easy mistake to fix.”

  “An easy mistake to fix indeed,” Ganis said. “I applaud your wisdom, King Ragnar.” She then looked at Hephaestion and understood his intentions. Addressing Bjor, she said, “Take us to the prisoner at once.”

  Having never taken survivors before, the Scands were forced to confine their prisoner in one of the houses located at the edge of the city, modified with rusted iron bars to fit the purpose. Only the iron-reinforced gates distinguished the structure from its surrounding.

  The guard was ordered by Ganis to open the gate and allow her three companions entry. Sealed windows ensured that no light entered the hey-filled room and accentuated a putrid stench of accumulated waste which forced the Parthans to wince. A single beam of light provided Hephaestion with barely enough sight to see the shrunk figure huddled in the corner.

  Ganis immediately headed to her and lifted the prisoner up aggressively. She had no tolerance for supporters of Naa’tas, it appeared, the ones she held responsible for the death of Pertinax. “What is your name!” she scolded at the helpless woman.

  “Illawulf…Illawulf.” The prisoner struggled loose and returned to cower in her safe corner.

  “Illawulf Bloodface of the Arrokan Wolves, is it not?” The name was familiar to Ganis. “This pit, poor as it is, is too lavish to house one such as you.”

  Illawulf Bloodface, the once fierce leader of a mercenary group, was responsible for the deaths of many innocents during the Second Civil War. The Arrokan Wolves, her troop, had looted and pillaged many villages which rebelled against the Council. Even Ganis’ sins dulled in comparison to Illawulf’s.

  Illawulf attempted to look at Ganis, to see who talked of her so accurately, but the light made her sensitive eyes hurt. She was a broken husk of her former self, a once proud criminal capable of incredible cruelty.

  “Where is Naa’tas?”

  Trembling with fear and hunger, she weakly responded in a hiss, “As soon as we arrived here, the cursed one betrayed us. He used us to build great ships and help him get here, then exposed of us all. He abandoned us and headed north. I have not seen him since, nor heard of his deeds. Trust me, whoever you are, I wish for nothing more than to help you kill him.”

  Illawulf spoke true. Ganis, as familiar as she was with tortured prisoners, knew that the Nosgardian was broken. She no longer had the will to deceive or manipulate her interrogators. She would say anything just to be delivered of her sentence.

  “By my hand Naa’tas will die. This I promise.”

  Illawulf looked at Ganis, her eyes wincing and tearing. “Will you release me?” Her voice trembled as she reached out to Ganis.

  Ganis knelt down and held her frail arms in her hands. Illawulf had barely anything left to cover her bones. The Highborn were a cruel people to their prisoners, or at least the one they imprisoned. “You are forgiven.” She then twisted her arms, breaking them, and pulled Illawulf towards her, digging her teeth into the Arrokan Wolf’s neck, and feasted on the little thick blood she had left.

  Bjor, never having seen Ganis feed before, was terrified at the scene. “Are you a demon?”

  Ganis directed her pale glowing eyes at him and responded, “I am far more.”

  Her nature once revealed, as Eos had told her, would not make the Highborn any less loyal. In fact, he suspected, it would make them even better servants.

  6

  Illawulf did serve an important purpose, Volition, whoever he was, spoke true when he told King Ragnar that the decision to keep Illawulf would be one of vital importance. The whereabouts of Naa’tas were no longer a mystery. The Parthans had an army at their side and a direction to point it at, two developments that Hephaestion sought to discuss.

  “With an army of Highborn, the direction of Eos, and the location of Naa’tas, we can start taking steps towards our mission.” Hephaestion sat on one of the leather chairs in their quarters. He carefully folded his cloak to use it as a cushion, making the seat as comfortable as he could.

  Ganis prepared her pipe with the last of her heaven’s weed. She then lit it with a burning twig bulging out from the hearth. “The Highborn are formidable, but we need more numbers. We need the Midland villages to join us.”

  “Any suggestions on how we can proceed with such a plan?”

  Feeling that his contribution would hasten the conclusion of this summit, Sigurd added, “Swaying the Scands was easy with Eos’ aid. With the exception of Hearthdale, we do not know how to begin convincing the Midlanders to join our cause.”

  Having known their former hosts better than the other Parthans, save for his twin, Percival knew this was one of the few times his knowledge would be beneficial to the others. “I think I know how to convince the peoples of the Midland villages, trade and stability.”

  “My brother and I,” Dindrane added, “have met and conversed with many traders from the nearby villages. They did not reveal to us if they were the subject of raids such as Hearthdale was, but it would not be difficult to discover this now that we know what it is we seek.”

  Ganis blew on her pipe. “I believe it would be wise not to completely leave Scandur. Someone should stay behind and maintain Parthan presence.”

  “I agree. We need to leave capable warriors who could prove their making should it be necessary,” Hephaestion said. Pertinax often thought of Hephaestion as cynical, yet time and time again, whenever his suggestions were carried out, he proved that he was simply prudent.

  “I’ll stay,” Sigurd said, face expressionless and tone bland.

  Hephaestion nodded in agreement. “Who else?”

  “Perhaps Eirene should stay to care for the children and welcome any villagers who would agree to seek shelter in
Scandur. I trust her judgment to maintain peace.”

  Shocked by the revelation, Ganis said, “You never revealed to us that we will be bringing the people of the Midland villages here.”

  “Strength in unity, remember?” Hephaestion noted. “Apart the people of Utyirth are weak. Together they are strong.” He produced his pipe and started preparing it with some of his own heaven’s weed stock.

  “They need to see one another and live together. It is the way of Pax,” Eirene added. At hearing Hephaestion’s suggestion that she stay behind, Eirene disapproved, but she knew that her conflicted self was only divided because of her desire for vengeance. Her promise to Pax and Ganis, to bring justice to those who brought death upon Pertinax, had not been forgotten, but the fire within her had become controlled.

  “Captain, may I stay as well?” Monolos offered. He wanted to free himself to tend for the Watcher hounds.

  “The travelers need a scout.”

  “I can assume the role,” Ganis said, “now that I have nothing to hide.”

  Hephaestion, remembering how formidable her Dark Gift was, reflected on the suggestion. He did not know the extent of her skills, a mystery which hindered his planning, yet he expected that the limits of what she could do were greater than any of the other Parthans - but by how much? “I ignored your advice in the past and it led to catastrophe. I will not repeat the same mistake again. If you think you can replace Monolos, then so do I.”

  Monolos eyed her, thankfully. She had gained his respect.

  “It is settled then. Sigurd, Eirene and Monolos will remain here and prepare for the arrival of the Midlanders while the rest of us head out to convince them to join our cause.”

  After the council, Ganis followed Ninazu to his chambers where he mixed and tested his potions. The Turian did not mind her presence. Within the chamber which he shared with Sigurd, Ninazu spread his plants and potions on the half of the room furthest to the door. Since knowing of his talents, she had not gotten the opportunity to ask of him to prepare a potion that would help make her feeding habits more practical, the potion Monolos had informed her about.