by Jon Kiln
“I will send soldiers back with you to protect your own village,” Myriam assured the frightened people. “We will investigate what has happened at Norham, and, if necessary, deal with these… these people.” Even after they had recounted the event, Myriam still could not believe that the dead were walking around her Kingdom. “Tonight you are welcome to rest here, in the castle. Shelter and food will be provided for you all. As soon as you feel ready, we will organize your return.”
“No, me lady, we must go immediately,” Crin’s father spoke up, not wishing to go against the Queen’s wishes and hospitality, but the matter was dire. “We have left our kin behind to come for help. We fear that whatever has happened in Norham, may happen to us, next.”
She nodded her understanding and walked away from the small group of representatives to speak with one of her commanders.
“This is a strange conundrum, Commander Flint,” she said to her adviser. “Can you spare any men to escort these people home?”
“Of course ma’am, I will rouse some men immediately. There have been reports of strange events, so I would say that time is of the essence and we move on this immediately. I will go myself, with a squad of fifty men.”
“What strange events? I have not heard such reports,” Myriam queried.
“One farmer, not far from the same border, found all his livestock slaughtered. Another has found all his crop, rank and rotted. There is talk of witchcraft by the locals. They believe their crops and livestock have been cursed,” Commander Flint reported. “I was to speak to you tomorrow, your majesty, but it seems that events have overtaken us.”
“Then we must act quickly and find out what is happening,” Myriam said, a worried frown to her brow. She turned and quickly returned to the villagers, who stood warming their hands around a burning log fire. “It is agreed, Commander Flint and his men are to escort you back this evening. Rest assured, these are fine men, some of the best in my army. They will guard your homes with their lives. For now you must rest awhile around the fire. I will arrange some hot broth for you, to strengthen you for the return journey. I know you are in a rush to be home, but it will take a short while to make all the arrangements.”
The people nodded their agreement, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with exhaustion now they had stopped. Their journey tonight had been unexpected and many had not yet slept. A quick rest and refreshment would be very welcome. Although they did not wish to delay their return, they accepted the kind offer of the Queen and took the blankets that her servants offered them. Soon the smell of a beef broth filled the air as the kitchen staff delivered a warming dish, with fresh bread.
While the villagers rested, Commander Flint hurried to the barracks and roused his most experienced men. Once all were gathered, he briefed them on the strange mission they were about to embark upon. He needed them prepared for the situation that they were to face when they arrived at the border town.
“We are told that these villagers are dead, yet they still walk,” he spoke to an attentive audience of seasoned soldiers. “They will attack and kill, if they get their hands on you. I can’t tell you much more as I’ve never seen or heard of such a thing. How we kill the dead, I’m not sure.”
“Separate their heads from their shoulders, sir, that should do the trick,” his Sergeant suggested.
“That sounds like good advice,” Flint agreed. “If they can’t see us then I don’t think they can kill us,” the Commander smiled.
The men laughed nervously. Most of them had fought in the recent battles of the coup. Some had even gone to the desert to rescue their Queen from the lizard people, the Akkedis, and fought in the battle in the underground city. Each of them were experienced, but still, they would need a cool head if what they were told was true about the occupants of Norham.
By the time the sun was rising above the horizon, a troop of fifty soldiers and five villagers set off on their journey. The soldiers would leave the villagers at their homes, and then continue on to Norham, and whatever fate awaited them there.
6
The day was a sunny one as the ship finally arrived in port, almost two days late. To the casual eye all seemed normal, being unaware of the poor souls who were lost when the birds attacked. If anyone had looked closer, they would see the damaged sails and blackened masts, but no one really paid the ship any heed as she quietly sailed in.
As soon as the ship docked, Ganry and Artas disembarked quickly. They needed to secure lodgings before the night set in. Ganry felt as if he was finally home, flooded with emotions and memories almost as soon as he set foot on Mirnee soil.
“Are you well, Ganry? You have a distant look in your eyes,” Artas asked, dragging all the baggage down the walkway as Ganry stood staring into nothing.
“I feel like I never left, Artas, and the emotion of being back is quite overwhelming,” Ganry said in a quiet voice. “It looks almost exactly the same as it did the last time I was here, all those years ago. If my memory serves, then a very dear friend of mine lives close by. He will put us up while we stay here.”
“Sounds better than staying in an inn, that’s for sure.” Artas was pleased. Friends always cook better meals than inns.
They set off into the market square that was up a hill with a wide flat road. Artas was impressed, he had always thought of anyone from another country as a barbarian, but it appeared that Mirneans were quite civilized.
“What are you smiling about?” Ganry asked the young man.
“Just smiling to myself, really. I thought we had come to a barbaric country, and I am surprised by the clean streets and busy folk going about their business.”
Ganry clipped him across the back of his head with the back of his hand.
“Ow, what was that for?” Artas was most put out.
“Because you think I am a barbarian,” Ganry replied, looking at the young upstart. “See, the market is the same as anywhere, fresh fruits, chickens running around and all the finest rugs you could ever wish for. While I am here I will buy myself a new fur coat. It will be made of biggest, most luxurious bear fur you have ever seen. The bears in this land are known for their size and their furs will last you a life time. I left in a hurry and never did pick one up to take with me.”
Artas looked around at the market stalls. They looked exactly the same as they did in his homeland, expect there was livestock running around free, which seemed a little strange to him.
“Shall we try the food, Ganry?” Artas's tone was almost pleading. He was starving and his mouth was salivating at the delicious meats cooking on a spit. The food on the ship had been palatable, but plain. This food looked delicious.
Ganry pulled him away from the stall. “Wait until your stomach has adjusted, young one,” he warned. “Those spices will burn your tongue away and who knows what they will do to your guts. You need to gradually introduce yourself to the foods of this land. Hot and spicy is the key ingredient to everything.”
“Let’s buy some fresh bread then. Look over there, can’t you smell it?” Artas followed the smell and soon found himself almost nose to nose with a young woman, stood on the bakery doorstep.
“Are you trying to mow me down?” she asked, frowning.
“Oh, I do apologize, ma’am, I was just, erm, I was just catching the delicious smells coming from your shop.” Artas blushed as he stuttered his words.
“This is the best bread in the city, if not the whole of Mirnee. Freshly made by ma and pa who get up at the crack of dawn so the likes of you can taste something real good,” she said, still not breaking a smile.
“I’m sure it is, but how can I taste it if you’re standing in my way?” Artas blurted out.
“Why didn’t you say so?” she stepped aside so he could enter. “If you have money in your pockets, you are welcome into my shop.”
He stepped inside and was greeted with a wonderful concoction of aromas that made his stomach grumble. He bought a long thin stick of bread that was still warm. She tried to pers
uade him to buy some sweet buns and fruit tarts, but he explained that he had somewhere to go and could not eat it all so quickly.
“Ahh, you have bought a Mirnee stick, delicious,” Ganry said, taking it off him and breaking it in two, passing one half back to Artas. Both busily chewed on the delicious crusty bread as they set off through the market and into the town, in search of Ganry’s friend.
7
The warm bread filled a deep hole in Artas’s stomach, making him yearn for some meat, but they were leaving the lovely smells behind. He followed Ganry out of the market as they began to climb a steep hill.
“This city is built in layers, the higher you go, the more wealthy the residents. As we climb we will pass through a gate to the next level,” Ganry explained the layout to his companion. “At the top you will find the Emperor’s palace and grounds, and nothing else. The layer prior to that holds the barracks to the Emperor’s guards and quarters for invited guests. As you work your way down there will be a merchants layer, full of the largest houses, and…”
“I get it, I get it,” Artas puffed back at him. “I can’t believe they built this city on a mountain. How many layers do we have to climb?”
“We’re going up to the merchant’s layer. My, erm… friend is wealthy. He is a caring and kind man. If he is still there, he will welcome us into his home.”
They did not linger as Ganry rushed them higher up the city. Artas would love to have stopped and looked around, but all he got to see was a poor area with ramshackle structures. Then another market, though this one was mainly for livestock with bulls, horses and sheep. It had a typical country smell swirling in the air and sticking in the nostrils. As they entered each layer, Artas wondered at how they did not get lost. The streets were narrow with many alleyways, almost as intricate as a maze.
They passed through a set of double gates and arrived at a public park with a small boating lake. The air felt fresher and the sun still shone over their heads. Ganry no longer led him in a upwards spiral, they now walked through this section. They entered a tree lined road with large walls. Behind the walls were huge houses, set back on large grounds. This was certainly more spacious than some of the poorer areas they had seen.
“The Mirnee are obsessed with wealth.” Ganry stopped to rest and chat.
“Yeah, it’s quite obvious when you leave the poorer areas behind. The last section seemed really pretty. What was that one?” Artas asked.
“Mainly people of a profession. The scholars and those who work at a trade, soldiers who are of higher rank. But, here, you have the bankers and the people who run everything.” Ganry educated the young Artas in the way of life in Mirnee.
“Are the people at the bottom allowed to move up a level if they are successful?” Artas was wondering if the poorer people were stuck there forever.
“Absolutely, that is what the whole system is about, bettering yourself. All in all, they are an ambitious people, always looking for a deal that will benefit them. So watch out for their craftiness,” Ganry warned. “They don’t mean to be that way, they are just raised to always seek an opportunity that will better them.”
“And you, Ganry de Rosenthorn, what is your story?” Artas tried to tease it out of him. “Did you partake in making yourself rich?”
“I was born to wealth, a nobleman much the same as yourself. My father disowned me when I was exiled, though there is more to the story than that. I would prefer to save it for another day, young Artas.”
“I understand, and I don’t mean to pry.” Artas hesitated a moment, but then plowed on. “About your exile, may I ask what you did, Ganry, to deserve such a harsh ruling?”
“Let’s just say I had a disagreement with the General,” Ganry said, his tone indicating he did not wish to discuss it further.
“But are you still in exile?”
“Not anymore. Anyway, we are here,” he said, pointing to a large set of ornate wooden gates.
“Look at the craftsmanship,” Artas said in amazement as he gazed up at a set of intricately carved wooden gates.
“Pull on that, would you?” Ganry pointed to a brass chain. On the end was a brass knob shaped as a dragon’s head with an open mouth. “It will inform the servants there is someone at the door.”
Artas seemed reluctant to pull on the mouth of the dragon. “Don’t worry,” Ganry assured him, “it is their door protector, stops evil from passing through. It won’t hurt you unless it considers you evil,” he smiled. Artas pulled on the chain, though somewhat cautiously.
After a short wait, a small door in one of the gates opened up and a crooked old man peeked out.
Ganry grinned widely and held out his arms. “Berne, you are still alive?” he joked with the old man. “I gather that means that Ludas is still master of the house?”
“Master Ganry, so good to see that you are also still alive.” The old man looked genuinely happy to see him. “We had heard many tales of your passing. Come, come, Master will be over the moon when he sees you. Come,” he said, stepping aside so they could enter the house.
As they stepped through the gate they entered a glass tunnel leading to the house proper. They continued to follow the old man, who moved fairly swiftly considering his age. He led them to a room where he asked them to wait, before leaving to go in search of the master of the house. Though the building was opulent, in its design of triangular shaped roofing and columns everywhere, the inside was furnished simply and very minimalistic. The two men sat on large cushions placed on the floor for such purposes.
They didn't have long to wait before a man, bearing a strong resemblance to Ganry, came through the door.
“I don’t believe it, is it really you, Ganry, my boy? You’re home, you have come back to us after all these years. This is a joyous day in the Rosenthorn household.”
“Uncle Ludas, it is good to see you too,” Ganry responded. “It has been far too long.”
8
Artas felt a little uncomfortable at such a private reunion. Clearly this man was very fond of Ganry and it certainly seemed to Artas, it was an affection that was returned. Ganry, it seemed, was a bit of a dark horse. He never spoke of his family here, even though it was obvious he loved them.
Ganry was surprised at how emotional the return home would be, especially at meeting his uncle after all these years. Ludas had always been a supporter of Ganry, even when his own father had disowned him. They had been very close. As a child Ganry had spent most of his time with his uncle. It was he who had taught him to ride a horse and become a master of the sword, his own father far too busy running his own lands and border army.
Ludas de Rosenthorn was a tall slender man, much as all the de Rosenthorn males were. Their family were originally migrants, seeking refuge from a war torn country known as Francestra. They had made their home on the borders of Mirnee, and grateful for the protection that the country offered them, they helped to guard the borders. This was now what they were mostly known as, “Guardians of the Borders.” His father owned a large private army called the “Rosenthorn Defenders,” but still swore loyalty to the Emperor. They guarded the borders from a hostile Francestra.
“Now, I have you, you need not think I’m letting you lose contact again. Last I heard you had made a name for yourself, protecting the Queen of Palara? Is this still your role?” his uncle asked.
“Indeed,” Ganry replied. “I am here on my Queen’s affairs. It seems that Mirnee are overstepping their territorial grounds on our borders. It is my hope to have an appointment with the Emperor to find out what he seeks to gain with this aggressive move.”
“Many things have changed in recent years, Ganry, and I will update you, but only over dinner. We will have a feast to welcome you back into your family. Your father has missed you greatly,” Ludas announced, which came as a surprise to Ganry.
“I cannot think why, uncle. He disinherited me. Thought me an embarrassment to his lineage. I will not be seeking his company,” Ganry said, a scowl on his
brow.
“No matter, all that can wait for a later day.” His uncle smiled. “Come, Berne has already set the kitchen staff in motion. While will eat we can discuss the politics of Mirnee. I insist that we enjoy some fine wine brought in from Francestra, would you believe. What do you say?”
“Uncle, you always had an answer for everything, forever the diplomat,” Ganry smiled back, following his uncle to the dining area.
Artas walked up to talk quietly in Ganry’s ear. “You never told me we were to stay with your relatives. I might finally find out about the life of the mysterious Ganry. Is this wise?”
Ganry patted Artas on the back, “My friend, I have no secrets. I just do not openly share my privacy. I have nothing to hide. All you learn you are welcome to know.”
Already there was a spread of good food on a long table that sat low to the floor. They took their seats on large cushions. It seemed in this house at least, chairs were not a common furniture item. This was a new kind of dining for Artas. Although he had a plate in his place, he had no cutlery. Just as he turned to Ganry to ask about his utensils, he noted that his friend was using two long, thin sticks to eat his food.
Ganry noticed Artas’s puzzled look.
“Can we arrange for some cutlery for my young friend here?” Ganry asked one of the servants.
Soon, Artas was armed with fork, knife and a large spoon. He quickly dug into the feast, forgetting all about his problems as he began to fill his empty, rumbling stomach.
“What are those sticks you eat with, Ganry?” Artas asked, his mouth full of a delicious, spicy meat.
“You will learn how to use them soon enough.”
“I thought you said this food would be too spicy, it’s delicious,” Artas said, now moving on to another meat and popping it straight into his mouth.