Blade Asunder Complete Series Box Set

by Jon Kiln

  Ganry swung around and jumped upon the giant’s back, grabbing him in a headlock, attempting to crush his windpipe, but it seemed the man’s neck muscles were made of iron. The giant growled and grunted in his attempts to shake off the man he wanted to kill, but Ganry was strong for a human, and hung on while he thought of his next move. Whatever he did, he must stay out of the way of this giant’s swing.

  The Mirnean, unable to shake off Ganry, ran backwards, smashing him into one of the trees, severely winding him. Ganry jumped from the beast’s back and ducked just in time as the club swung again, missing his head by a hair’s breadth.

  Ganry, for his part, could not rely on his own strength against this huge man, he needed his wits about him. This was not an equal fight, he needed to find an advantage, tire him and it might give him the chance to strike. This time when the giant approached, Ganry turned on his heels and ran.

  The giant roared his frustration, calling Ganry a coward as he chased after him. He must kill Ganry, at all costs, for the witches had told him that he had murdered the General’s son. The General had taken him into his army, and for this he would repay such a kindness. His people might be giants, but they were a soft and timid folk. The General had trusted him and trained him into a killing machine. He would do this deed for the General to show his loyalty.

  As Ganry ran, he felt something fly past his head, clipping his shoulder with such a force it sent him sprawling to the ground. The giant had thrown his club, narrowly missing his head. He considered taking the club but it was far too large for him to use. Instead, hearing the heavy footsteps quickly approaching, he rolled to one side, just in time as the giant came crashing through the undergrowth.

  Both men were so busy in their own personal combat, they had failed to see that a number of undead were approaching. Soon they were both surrounded. The undead advanced on them. Both men, their personal battle forgotten, turned their attentions to the new danger. The giant, now back in possession of his club, smashed through the corpses with ease. Ganry’s sword was busy also, detaching the heads from the necks of any creatures that approached.

  Still they came, and despite their efficiency in killing they were soon outnumbered and almost overcome.

  Then he heard it, the loud sound of a horn, and so did the undead. They stopped in their tracks and turned towards the sound. A few, those closer to the men, continued to advance. Seemingly, the draw of the living overruled the sound of the horn. But Ganry and the giant soon made short work of them.

  The corpses had been fooled into leaving the battleground and followed the sound. He prayed that Artas and Riley had found sturdy horses, for they were about to lead hundreds of corpses away from the castle.

  Now, he had to deal with the other problem at hand, and turned back to the giant, his sword gripped tight.

  30

  Palaran soldiers trailed behind the undead, intent on finishing them off, and were surprised to find Ganry and the giant man battling. The giant was quickly surrounded by Palarans. They kept a wary distance from him, but pointed spears in his direction. Both giant and Ganry were exhausted. Having fought with each other and then the group of undead had taken its toll. The giant stood stock still, offering no resistance, his club dropping to the ground at his feet.

  “Shall we kill him, sir?” one of the soldiers asked.

  “He is a rare creature and it seems a shame,” Ganry replied, uncertain of what to do. The giant of a man would have been manipulated by the General and the witches.

  “What say you?” Ganry asked, moving closer to the giant. “Should I allow the men to finish you off, or do you wish to live?”

  “What are your terms for my life, gnat? I doubt I would find them palatable.”

  “There are no terms, just leave the battle and return to your own. I have heard of your people, you are not warlike. The witches have bewitched you. Go home to your kind, that is all I ask.”

  As they spoke, a wolf arrived and approached the giant man, sniffing the air in front of him. The giant reached out and stroked the wolf’s head.

  “You have bested me in battle, gnat, and yet you spare my life,” the giant said. “I would not offer you the same courtesy. My life is now yours to command, and I will swear my loyalty to you. I will not leave the field of battle, as you ask, but I will fight with you rather than against, until my debt is repaid.”

  Ganry nodded his understanding. The giant would be a ferocious addition to their ranks. Today had gone well. The plan for the undead had worked and they no longer surrounded the castle. The Mirneans had retreated, their tails between their legs. But Ganry was not complacent. He knew Jeon would be back. He just needed to be certain they were ready for him.

  ***

  Artas was feeling really pleased with himself as he rode steadily at the head of the column of the undead. He felt like the General of a huge army as they followed him away from the castle. Riley was at the front with him, and around twenty Palaran soldiers helped to keep the strays in line. Each man took their turn at blowing the horn should the corpses forget where they going.

  “What shall we do with them?” he asked Riley, who rode by his side.

  “I think there is our answer.” Riley pointed in front of them.

  Artas followed the direction of Riley’s finger to see the wolves gathered in a large pack. There seemed to be more than when they had first arrived. Artas remembered Grecia mentioning she had sent for reinforcements. Together with his men, they would make short work of the grotesque task ahead and send the human souls of these corpses on to the next life.

  The work was grisly and uncomfortable, but soon all the undead were slumped on the floor in heaps, heads removed from bodies, either by sharp Palaran steel or the jaws of the wolves. There was no time to burn them, as night was quickly approaching and they needed to return to the safety of the castle. They would come back later and turn the rotting corpses into a pile of ashes, then bury the bones, as was their right.

  They rode swiftly back to Castle Villeroy, the wolves running close by. As they approached the castle they could see a giant of man entering the castle gate. Artas and Riley stopped their horses to look upon the odd spectacle.

  “Have you ever seen such a large man?” Artas said, more to himself than to his companion.

  “No,” Riley, replied, equally baffled, “but then I’d never seen a wolfman before either, and they are proving to be good allies.”

  With this, they both shook their reins, instructing the horses into a gallop. They might as well go through the gates while they were still open, for the darkness was quickly setting in.

  31

  Everyone within the castle walls was utterly drained and weary. It had been a physically hard day. Grecia had informed the Queen that the wolves had been unable to track all of the witches, though they had killed a couple of lower order ones. The leader, though, was staying well out of harm’s way.

  Ganry ordered Riley to rest. He and Artas would take first watch and awaken Riley for his turn later. Riley’s body was used to sleeping in makeshift places. Such was the life of a mercenary. This was the way of survival, the way he had learned to cope when times were rough. He found a quiet corner and huddled his legs into his body in a sitting position. Within seconds, he was sleeping lightly.

  Ganry and Artas supervised the wounded into the infirmary. The dead, killed on the assault of the castle, were placed in a large tent away from the main castle area. When this was over, they would all get the proper burial they deserved.

  The giant, who Ganry now knew as Rochmyr, had settled in with the wolfmen. He would be a good asset, so long as his loyalties were true. Despite his seemingly genuine change of sides, Ganry still had doubts. As he watched, he noticed a small boy approaching the giant. It was Cronos.

  “All is well, Ganry,” the young boy said as he neared them both. “I can sense this man means me no harm. I have made another new friend on this day.”

  “I hope your senses are true, young
Lord, for he is a formidable fighter. I would feel happier if kept your distance from him until we understand where his allegiances lay.”

  “No, Ganry, truly,” the boy said, a slight annoyance in his tone. “I feel safe with Rochmyr, and he would be the perfect bodyguard for me, especially when Torno, my wolf protector, is fighting for our cause. Rochmyr will keep me safe, of this I am certain. He will guard me within the castle walls. We have much to learn about each other’s people. I know very little about the giants from our lands. Now is a good time to learn. After all, he is a Mirnean.”

  Rochmyr picked up the boy and placed him on his shoulders. They walked off towards the castle keep where the food was being served, for a giant has a hefty appetite. Ganry watched, a little bemused at the strange sight of a nine foot man, with a small albino boy upon his shoulders. He would indeed be a formidable bodyguard for the boy, providing his intentions were true.

  Night falls quickly at this time of year, and soon most of the castle grounds were empty of busy people. Many had retired to their sleeping quarters, others to the drinking establishments that remained open inside the castle walls. It had been a difficult few days and they needed the release from the stresses of battle. The touch of alcohol would provide that, and the company of close and trusted friends. The only movement came from the castle guards who walked on the battlements, watching the surrounding area for signs of danger.

  Ganry sat high upon the turrets with Artas, who had his bow at the ready. A movement down in one of the courtyards caught the younger man’s attention. It was by the temporary infirmary and morgue. From this distance and in the half twilight, Artas could not be certain, but he swore he could see movement there.

  “Artas, look. Down there.” Ganry pointed to the same spot he had also seen movement. “Ready your bow, I think something is amiss,” Ganry ordered.

  Artas knew where Ganry was pointing, but when he looked again he noticed nothing. Perhaps their eyes were deceiving them in this murky light. Yet, the longer he stared, the more he too felt that something was there.

  “There is something, yes, look at the tent doorway. Could it be….?” Artas said, unable to finish his sentence as a chill of horror crept over him.

  “Yes,” Ganry confirmed his fears, “the damn witches have raised our fallen compatriots. Quickly. Shoot for the heads. Now boy, now,” Ganry cried out. “Keep shooting them, Artas, I’ll get down there as quickly as I can,” he said as he flew down the stone stairwell, calling for some of the guards to follow him.

  They made their way towards the death tent.

  Artas was quick with his bow, a skill he had learned as a young boy from his father. His aim was true and soon many of the undead fell with one of his arrows buried in each of their skulls, but there were too many, he could not shoot them all. With a growing horror he watched. From the infirmary a young woman emerged. He recognized her as one of the helpers of the wounded. She walked straight into the midst of the creatures, and was quickly surrounded. Her pitiful screams rang out in Artas’s ears. He continued to fire off more arrows, but he could not save her. Her body crumpled onto the floor, and the ungodly creatures fell upon her.

  Ganry and the guards soon arrived, as did the wolves, alerted by the woman’s screams. Quickly, they set about the undead. Once again, the ground around them was littered with the headless bodies that lay still as death.

  “Bah! This is a poor way to have to treat our fallen colleagues. They have given their lives for their Kingdom and now they are defiled by those damn witches,” Ganry exclaimed as Artas arrived.

  The soldiers looked around, shocked, at the pile of decapitated corpses. They knew many of these men, had fought side by side. They were men who had given their lives courageously in defense of their Kingdom. This should not be happening, they should not have to suffer this indignity.

  “I can cast a spell on the grounds of the castle,” Grecia told Ganry. “At least then, should a human die within these walls, they can rest in peace, safe from the wiles of the witches.”

  “Do what you can to stop this vile abuse of our comrades,” Ganry said, his face looking old and tired after the day’s events.

  “I will need to leave behind three of my shamans to hold the spell. That will be three less on the battleground,” she said.

  “Better that than risking the Queen and the boy to the undead,” Ganry replied, relieved that something could be done to stop this madness, at least within the castle walls.

  “I have received a message,” Grecia told Ganry, before he walked away. “I was just about to find you to convey what the witches have told me.”

  “What? Are you saying they have spoken with you?” Ganry was surprised. He knew she had not found the clan of witches when last they had searched.

  “No, we have not spoken, but I have received a message. It was while I slept. Their power is strong and I am at my weakest when in slumber. They wish to speak with us, outside the castle gates. They assure me that they will not attack.”

  “It has to be a trick!” Artas spoke up, trying to convince Ganry. It was madness to think they would not attack him. These people had no honor, lying was just one of many dishonorable acts.

  “I believe they seek to retreat, if they can,” the wolf shaman said. “Their numbers are diminishing and there are only so many dead they can call upon. Yesterday’s events dealt their plans a heavy blow. Whereas we can gather in more soldiers, as this is our homeland, if needs be.”

  “So, why don’t they just retreat?” Ganry asked.

  Grecia thought on his question for a few seconds, before responding.

  “I’m not certain. They perhaps hope to convince us to give them the boy. Their whole strategy depends on him. One last throw of the dice, maybe?”

  “I will parlay with them,” Ganry agreed. “Anything to delay or stop this madness. Let’s try and determine their intentions.”

  “I can’t help but think, this will not end well,” Artas interrupted.

  Riley emerged into the group, hearing Artas’s warning. “What are you both discussing?” he asked. “I’ve just heard what happened here. Did we lose many?”

  “The witches raised our dead, but the wolves have counteracted their spell,” Ganry explained to his new battle friend. “Artas, go rest,” Ganry said, sending the young man away. “Riley, I will sleep at your side as you watch the wall. Wake me at the crack of dawn. I need to prepare for a meeting with our enemy.”

  32

  “The General has arrived,” Cronos said to Queen Myriam as they sat eating a breakfast of breads and cheeses.

  “You mean he’s at the gate?” she asked, puzzled by this statement.

  “Yes, and he has come with only two soldiers by his side,” the boy replied.

  “Then let us go greet him, immediately,” she said, before calling one of the servants to go in search of Ganry and inform him of the new development.

  By the time the Queen’s retinue had arrived on a balcony overlooking the main gate, it was already opening. There was no sign of Ganry as yet.

  General Jeon rode into the castle grounds with only two men to guard him. Whilst he hated his son’s killer, Ganry, he knew him to be honorable and that they would not slay him, just yet.

  As he dismounted, Ganry was observing from another window. He stood in the room where he had instructed the guards to bring the General. He had also sent out a message to the Queen and to Grecia, so they could be present at the meeting about to take place.

  Grecia arrived first, and without speaking, she took her seat at the long table. She also had a couple of wolfmen with her. They were her Seconds and would also serve to help her if this General tried any magic trickery. No one trusted this meeting. What could these witches possibly hope to achieve, for there would be no forgiveness on the part of the wolves.

  The General was brought up to the room. As he entered, he looked around to see who was in attendance. Ganry nodded and pulled out a chair, to which the General approached an
d seated himself at the end of the table. Others who had been invited began to arrive, with the Queen coming through the doors last. She brought in the albino boy, Cronos. He might only be eight years old, but this involved him directly. It was right for him to be here.

  Ganry watched General Jeon closely. He appeared to look startled when he saw the boy.

  Once all were seated, Ganry stood to speak.

  “You are not welcome in the Kingdom of Palara, General Jeon, and we would request that you take your soldiers, and your witches, out of our lands.”

  “The boy is to come with us. We wish only to take him back to his own lands of Mirnee. What right have you to hold him here? I consider it an act of kidnap, resulting in war!” The General said, his voice rising with every word until he was almost shouting at Ganry. He banged his hand on the wooden table, to emphasize his anger at Palara for taking the Emperor’s son as prisoner. “You will hand him over, now!”

  “I hardly think that you’re in a position to make demands, General,” Queen Myriam said, calmly.

  “You have no right to hold this boy prisoner,” the General said, directly to the Queen. His ice cold eyes yielding no fear.

  “Let us stop playing games, Jeon,” Ganry said, not willing to continue with this farce. “We all know that the Emperor placed the boy in the safe hands of the wolf people for protection. Let’s move on from this pretense. Why are you really here?”

  “Queen Myriam, your people are dying out there,” the General turned to speak with Myriam, once again. “We will continue to murder your citizens if you persist in being involved. The boy is not your problem. This is a political issue that concerns Mirnean leaders only. Your actions can be construed as an aggressive act and we are well within our rights to declare war on an aggressor. Is this what you really want, Queen Myriam? If so, then you are being badly advised. Give us the boy and we will leave your lands.”