Book of Kayal: Strength of Unity Page 19

  “Why do they greet me so?” Ganis asked of Yellow-Eyes.

  He looked up, stretching his neck to compensate for the height of the horse, and said, “For what you have done to them, Ninth.”

  “And what would that be?”

  Yellow-Eyes dropped his head and continued to trot beside her in his canine way. “You will see for yourself shortly. It is a difficult thing to explain.”

  The long road led them into the gates of Scandur, where Ganis saw the change she had promised long ago to the Highborn about her proposed way of life. The city of Scandur was full of life. Many tightly-packed shops, some more permanent than others, had been constructed, mostly in the fashion of the Midlanders.

  Cobblestones paved the roads beyond the gates, a foreign invention to the Scands, and many flags fell from many shops, signaling the new trades that were introduced to the Highborn by the Midlanders.

  Interrupting Ganis’ contemplation, King Ragnar said, “We have done as you asked, Excelsis Dignus. The Midlanders brought new life to Scandur. Yet not all of them agreed to join forces.”

  “I know, King Ragnar. I have seen the destruction of Hearthdale.” She took a long moment of silence. “Men, women and children were all killed indiscriminately. They must be avenged.” Ganis guided her horse to pace next to King Ragnar’s. “Was there no way to protect them?”

  “Captain Hephaestion teaches us that there is always a solution to every problem, but we have failed on many accounts in defending the Midland villages. Our army was not large enough to do so.”

  “Not large enough to attack the Scylds? I have seen enough able people gathered here to make a sizable force to march on Scyldur.”

  “An offence is different, Hephaestion says.” King Ragnar frowned and shook his head. “I do not understand it, Excelsis Dignus.”

  “I must speak to Hephaestion.” There were many questions Ganis wanted to ask, questions King Ragnar, she knew, would not be able to answer. She wondered how much Hephaestion had kept from the Highborn, and how much he revealed. It was not prudent for her to speak her mind yet.

  King Ragnar nodded. “We will arrive shortly.”

  Scandur Keep remained humble - a reminder to the Highborn of how far they developed with the aid of the Midlanders - and nothing was changed if deemed impractical. The throne remained as it was, and so were the long tables and chairs in the keep’s hall. Yet one addition which stood out was the large banner of a dawning sun which hung behind the throne.

  “Ganis,” Hephaestion said. He appeared from behind the throne which covered him entirely until he stepped out. The same armor Thalia had crafted clothed him, but he carried no weapons. “I have had many sleepless nights since we parted.”

  “You were right.” Ganis dropped her hand on Eos. It was a soothing feeling to know he was with her, even if he had not yet spoken since their reunion. “Pertinax would have not wanted us to come back to him.”

  The words struck Hephaestion dumb, dazing him for a moment. “Strange. I was about to say the same about not leaving him behind.”

  Ganis approached him, leaving King Ragnar standing behind her idly, and put her hand on Hephaestion’s shoulder. He was taller than her making the gesture feel unnatural to Ganis, but she kept it nonetheless. “For the sake of the people of Utyirth and Nosgard it was necessary for at least one of us to escape Scyldur. I believe your escape was the better choice for the mission.”

  “You forget one thing, Ganis. Our Ona is incomplete without you. The others agree with me.”

  The words nearly brought tears to Ganis’ eyes, a sentiment she was hesitant to show to the Highborn. She forced a deep breath to calm her thoughts and said, “And neither am I without you. Hephaestion, I have much that needs to be discussed. How long will it take to assemble the Ona?”

  “Monolos is away, and the rest can be summoned immediately. I will see to the preparations at once. We will convene in the quarters above shortly.”

  7

  During Ganis’ absence Ninazu had prepared a lab in one of the rooms designated for the Parthans on the second tier of Scandur Keep. The laboratory had all the necessities for him to study the different herbs of Utyirth and concoct his potions, an effort that consumed all his time since Ganis’ separation.

  “I heard that you are spending far too much time in here,” Ganis said. She stood leaning by the door while Ninazu was busy crushing some dried leaves.

  He looked back, dark hair and beard even thicker than the last time Ganis saw him - he had braided his beard and hair together to form a single thick braid tucked in his tunic – and said, “On the contrary, I have not been spending enough time in here.” Ganis was certain that a smile was hidden beneath his beard.

  “I do owe you gratitude for bringing Eos back.”

  “I should have brought two of our Ona back, not just one.”

  Ganis dropped her hand on Eos’ hilt, thinking, Even they think of you as one of the Ona.

  “There is something I made for you.” Ninazu fiddled with some potions he had stacked atop one another, layers of corked glass vials supporting a wooden plank with more layers of corked glass vials supporting yet another wooden plank as such. “The potion you asked of me.” He plucked a vial from amidst the others, one half-filled with black dust, and offered it to Ganis.

  She took the vial and eyed it curiously. “What is this?”

  “It’s what you asked of me, the blood potion.”

  “How long did it take you?”

  “Many seasons, and I still haven’t perfected it.” He brushed his hand through his beard, stopping at where the braids started, and said, “It was your request, a request I couldn’t abandon.”

  “Ninazu, I think I understand what it means to be a part of the Ona now—”

  “Ganis, is that you?” Thalia said. She ran to Ganis and embraced her tightly. “What took you so long?” she said still holding her.

  “It seemed like a pleasant release from all this work.” Ganis pushed Thalia away, gently. “I apologize, but I have lost your gift.”

  “Gift?”

  “Aye, the set of leather equipment you made for me.”

  Thalia laughed. “That silly thing? It was terrible anyway. I made a new set for you, just for when you would return.”

  The others arrived, Sigurd entered first, clad in padded cloth, and the twins followed, brushing Ganis’ shoulder gently, and Eirene came in third, saying a short prayer and kissing Ganis’ forehead. They all stood quiet, serenely thankful for their companion’s return, and waited for Hephaestion to arrive a few moments behind them.

  “Now,” Hephaestion said, “Tell us of what happened.”

  Ninazu offered Ganis a seat, one she gladly took, and she started telling her tale, focusing on the important details. “I faced Naa’tas in Scyldur…”

  When she started telling them of Kismet and the Hands of Fate the Parthans listened intently, wondering when the Third Hand of Fate, Death, would appear to them and what he would say.

  It was an unsettling thought Eirene deemed herself fit to address. She concluded by saying, “Say what you will of Fate and her Three Hands, but Pax is the embodiment of peace and he will not let his agents suffer from any other end not pertaining his act.”

  Eirene’s explanation did not settle well with Ganis, but it has become easier for her to accept their faith. After all, she herself would not have survived if she had no faith in Asclepius’ teachings. Perhaps, she thought, that was my faith.

  Then she was done, and Hephaestion assumed the storey-telling role of their journey during Ganis’ separation. He started walking back and forth as he spoke. “The Scands and the Midlanders struck an uneasy alliance which grew stronger with time. Nevertheless, the Highborn had their own conditions for their approval, one we advised them to impose.

  “An army needed to be raised from among both the Midlanders and the Highborn, and the Midlanders had no intention of doing so. The agreement between both peoples was that one of two able
men would be trained in combat under Sigurd’s direction.

  “The new corps is called the Enkashar, and they have just been armed and trained sufficiently to have them fight in a real battle. Before this day, Ganis, there was no notable Midland-Highborn army, just a few fighters with no unified spirit.”

  Ganis smiled, a gesture she forced beyond its natural extent. “Many of the villagers will die in battle. The training will help them, but it does not make them soldiers. Still, I believe it is better for them to fight for a chance to earn their freedom from fear than to live by the mercy of the Scylds.

  “And now, after Initium Keep, the army has much higher chances to succeed against the Scylds than they had before.”

  “Remember,” Hephaestion said - he had produced a comb during Ganis’ speech and combed his hair neat, reminding Ganis of Pertinax - “the Scylds might have an army, but they do not have a professional army like those of Nosgard. The Highborn-Enkashar force will be more than a match for them, even without the resistance from within.

  “In spite of our involvement, Ganis, our concern remains to eliminate the threat of Naa’tas. Helping the citizens of Utyirth just happens to require the same actions.”

  “Naa’tas will be difficult to kill,” Thalia said. She held her knife and brushed her finger on its tip, examining its sharpness. “If he overpowered Ganis so easily, none of us, save perhaps for Sigurd, would be able to stand against him alone.”

  “That’s why the Ona is so important,” Ganis said. “Alone we have no chance, but united the scales shift to our favor. The natives can’t succeed without our aid, and we can’t without theirs. It’s a symbiotic relationship we share.”

  Hephaestion stopped, standing by the sole window in Ninazu’s workshop, a space he had no intention of convening in, and said, “We must inform Monolos of the development in our situation. The Watcher hounds have certainly told him about your escape, but they know nothing about what you just shared.”

  “Then I will seek him out at once,” Ganis said. “I would relish the opportunity to do so.”

  “An opportunity you seek is one you deserve,” Hephaestion said - it was a Parthan proverb he had not used long enough for him to nearly forget it. “Monolos is within the forest to the southwest. Reach the border and the Watcher hounds will find you and lead you to him.”

  “I’ll travel at first light, but for now I must rest.” Ganis took a deep breath and stood.

  Chapter 10: Where Plan is Formed

  ‘You brought me into this world without my consent, but that is expected from parents.’ Philosophical Lessons from Utyirth (Volume II: Scholar).

  1

  The journey from Nosgard to Utyirth was nearing its end when Ganis decided to introduce herself to the last member of her new party, Monolos. The animal handler had a habit of waking up at dawn every day to fish. Knowing this, Ganis seized the opportunity to talk to her comrade.

  Aboard the main deck of the Siren’s Tear the sun-tanned Monolos stood still with a wooden bucket resting on the deck to his right. Ganis approached the motionless man who stared at the horizon. As she got closer to her comrade, she peaked at the bucked and noticed that it was overflowing with fish. Some bait he must be using, she thought. She looked up and saw no fishing gear around the man.

  “Did you catch this?” Ganis asked the man.

  “Indeed I did.”

  “How?”

  “By observing,” retaining in his unnatural stillness, he calmly responded.

  “You seem not to be fishing, yet the bucket at your side tells of another story.” She waited for a response or justification by Monolos, but he offered none. Frustrated by his inadequate answer, Ganis said, “In great detail, explain to me how you catch fish.”

  After taking a moment to think, Monolos said, “It starts by a fish laying eggs. Then the eggs hatch and little fish start swimming instinctively towards their natural habitat. Then they feed on whatever type of food their kind is used to, other fish, insects, plants, or in rare cases small animals. When the fish matures they head to the surface of the water to breed or feed, or wherever is most suitable for their survival. Once I am near the location where this fish surface, and reason calls for fishing, I catch them.”

  Ganis stared at the man, wondering about his sanity. “This isn’t what I asked.”

  “I am sorry, but if this response is inadequate, I’m afraid I do not understand your question.”

  Almost reaching the limit of her patience, Ganis prepared her fist to strike Monolos. Suddenly, a hawk flew from behind him and threw a fish into the bucket. At this point the bucket was completely filled and the new addition bounced off onto the wooden deck.

  Finally, Ganis’ question was answered; the man trained his hawk to fish for him. What a skill.

  Admiring her companion’s talent at training his avian friend, Ganis noted, “Quite the talent.”

  “What talent?”

  “The one you just demonstrated.”

  “Thank you.”

  Her failed attempt at getting back to Monolos for his ridiculous answer made her grow even more furious. She took a deep breath and said, “I don’t like you!”

  “I’m sorry. I will try to make you like me by observing your behavior and determining your likes and dislikes. By offering you more of what you like and avoiding what you dislike, I hope that you will come to change your opinion about me,” Monolos explained. He then picked the bucket with his left hand and the sole fish which lay on the wooden floor with the other. Looking at the fish, then at Ganis, Monolos asked, “Do you like fish?”

  “No,” Ganis replied. Although she remembered that she was once fond of the taste, back when she was alive. For a moment, Ganis grew nostalgic.

  “Then you may not have any.” His expression was as bland as always. Words were spoken, but the body and face did not react.

  With no heed to his intentions, Monolos carried his hawk’s catch and headed to the kitchen. To calm herself, Ganis decided to take a moment to watch the serene sea. It was a sight she would never get tired of.

  Commodore Habitus noticed her and approached. Quietly, he stepped beside her while preparing his pipe with a new filling of heaven’s weed. After lighting it and taking a few puffs, he offered Ganis a taste of his remedy.

  Without exchanging words, she took the contraption and puffed on it twice. It did not take long for her to feel the dizziness that comes to those unaccustomed to the mixture - a side effect of being exposed to the sun, she thought. While usually her kind would be susceptible to the touch of natural light, Asclepius made certain that Ganis would be spared such vulnerability, at the cost of weakening abilities during her exposure.

  “I heard that you have an Orkstadian bodyguard and wife. Is that true?” she asked.

  “Yes. Hrah is the mother of my three bastard half-breeds currently serving on the Phoenix with Captain Porter. I did not want to risk harming them on such a perilous journey. Besides, with those tough bastards around, I go through stocks of rom and heaven’s weed with no sense of preservation.”

  “At least you have contributed to the coming generation of inhabitants, and they can claim to be the children of the Peacebringer. Do not underestimate their value or the value of your own deeds.” She paused. “Even Asclepius acknowledges you.”

  Commodore Habitus took a deep breath and said, “All I wanted was to retire in Senna and die from consumption. Instead, I have been given more responsibilities than any sane man can handle. What you and the others see as honor and blessings, I see as…troublesome. It is indeed ironic how this world functions.” He paused for a moment and sighed, “Peacebringer, a ridiculous title the Emperor gave me just for being in the right place at the right time. You can have this pipe.” Commodore Habitus returned to man the helm of the ship, leaving Ganis with no excuse or explanation.

  2

  Monolos never considered himself a man of the city. He would feel most comfortable when surrounded by nature, the habitat of the wild
– a fitting home for a man of his interests.

  The lands in Utyirth were not as densely shaped by its inhabitants as Nosgard. The trees were free to grow and roam as they pleased, making the forests denser and more lively. It was Monolos’ favored retreat; to him and the Watcher hounds.

  As Ganis entered the forest – without clear borders, but a fading of grasslands into denser vegetation – she felt watchful eyes fall upon her. She was being followed, and her whereabout was no secret to the dwellers of this place, a fitting outcome for her intent.

  Once well into the forest, the cold subsided, and only a few patches of melting snow encountered her as she ventured deeper. More eyes fell upon her, hundreds, she thought, of yellow, brow, blue, black, and an unsettling grey.

  This forest is living, Eos projected. It might feel like you are unwelcome, Ganis, but the dwellers are simply curious about you. They have heard many things of the Ninth.

  Eos, how comforting it is to hear your voice once more. Ganis walked past a broken branch, carefully avoiding stepping on it for no reason other than her instinct suggesting it. Why am I the Ninth?

  Because you are the last. In your absence the Ona did much for the people of Utyirth, those of the south at least. The Watcher hounds, Monolos’ children, have taken to revere you as the maker of their race, and they spend their lives learning of you Parthans, the outsiders who made them more.

  I never intended that, as I am certain neither did Monolos. She leaned down to pass from under a tree branch growing low, trying to get its share of sunlight beaming through the opening left by higher branches.

  It is uncommon for our intents to dictate the outcomes of what we do, Ganis.

  “Welcome, Ninth, to where the Watchers live,” a voice said from behind Ganis. Ganis looked towards her addressor and found familiar green eyes approaching her.