by Jon Kiln
18
When Ganry finally met up with Myriam, his report of an army of dead did not come as any surprise to her. She informed him that her soldiers were already engaged in fighting the strange creatures on the border. She had told Ganry that a couple of villages had already been attacked.
“Tell me then, what is this border nonsense all about, and why did the Admiral wish to leave my main port unprotected?”
“General Jeon rules Mirnee now with the help of the witches. I’m not sure what his part in all of this is. He never seemed the type who lusted after power, but I suppose time and tragedy can change a man. It seems they are searching for the Emperor’s child, and are going to great lengths to find him. I am not sure why, or what role he plays in this. He is only a young boy of eight years.”
“Do we know where he is?”
“I’m afraid he’s been hidden in your Kingdom, my Queen. In the territory of the wolves.”
“So why does a cultured nation, such as Mirnee, allow the dark arts to be practiced so freely?” Myriam knew there was more to it than a simple coup.
“My own memories are of the Emperor banning witches from using magic. Most people did not really believe that they had any real magic skill anyway, just sleight of hand and simple mind tricks. The Emperor’s decree kept them quiet for many years. There is an old legend in Mirnee that the Queen witch, Thalia, was banished by some ancient ritual, by a descendant of the Emperor’s. Many thought it just a myth, a fairy story. Maybe it has something to do with this.”
“But why are they threatening my borders?”
“I can only assume they know the boy is in Palara, but not his exact whereabouts.”
“Then you must continue your quest, Ganry, and find this child,” Myriam said. “I have met the Emperor of Mirnee a few times, and he always seemed a kindly leader to me. Perhaps if we return his son, he can once again rule over Mirnee and bring peace to our nations?”
“I can’t say,” Ganry mumbled. “But we need to do something. They are raising the dead for their own evil means.”
“Yes, we already know this to our cost. Many of our villages on the border have been ravaged by these creatures,” Myriam told him, with a heavy heart. “It’s terrible, Ganry. They have to have their heads removed, and only then will they stop walking. The villages are filled with the bonfires of the dead.”
“I think you should request Hendon’s help,” Ganry suggested.
“Yes, yes, he was the first one who came to my mind as well. Are you sure you don’t want him to go with you and Artas?”
“No, I think he’s had enough foreign adventures but he will help protect the kingdom, of that I am certain.”
“Who do you take with you then?”
“I have a seasoned mercenary, Riley, plus Artas. We will take a small number of your best soldiers, those who are veterans of battle and won’t run from the dead. I will need steady men for entering the Wolf territory. We will enter in peace, to request the help of the alphas,” Ganry explained.
“I will give you my ring again, so you can show them it is the D’Anjue seal that takes you on your mission. This may help. They are depicted in the D’Anjue mural, the wolf people, so there is some past connection with my family. Be careful, they are a strange race who have the ability to shape shift into animals. I have never met any of them as they tend to keep to themselves, but I believe my Grandmother has.”
Myriam’s face lit up as she remembered another matter. “While we are on the subject, some good news! Grandmother and I have successfully begun the expedition for the family mural, built of stone in the basement of Castle Locke. It is to be brought here to the royal castle. This is to be the new home to the D’Anjue heritage.”
“Well, that will keep the stonemasons busy for a while,” Ganry smiled, knowing how important it was to Myriam and her grandmother, the Duchess D’Anjue. It had helped them to predict where the last Berghein family stone had been hidden, and had been a focal point for the D’Anjue bloodline, helping them remain strong during the coup of Duke Harald. Who knows what other secrets they may find of the hand carved stones.
“I know Ganry, that you don’t care for the magic of ancestral stones,” Myriam smiled back at him.
Ganry stood to leave the breakfast table, ignoring her remark. He was no longer certain of his skepticism regarding magic, not after all he had seen recently.
“I have much to do, my Queen,” he said.
“Of course, Ganry, and take all that you need.” She also stood to say her own goodbyes.
She approached the muscular warrior and hugged him, “As always, Ganry, please take care of yourself. This country needs you. Take care of Artas too. I have hardly seen him since your return, all he seems to do is sleep.”
“We had quite the adventure going to Mirnee, and he is still young. One day, my Queen, he will replace me. With the aches and pains I feel in my body these days, I don’t think that day is far away.”
They laughed together, two old friends, one a queen, the other her bodyguard, worlds apart socially, but as close as good friends can be.
19
By the next day, Ganry, Artas and Riley, along with a small army of twenty seasoned soldiers, set off on horseback to travel across the Kingdom of Palara to the wolf territory of Slohal Prairie. This was one of the things Ganry loved about this Kingdom, its strange and diverse residents. He had heard the rumors about the Wolf people, of how they could shape change into an animal at will. They reminded him of Perseus, who could shape-shift into a huge snake. He shivered involuntarily.
Slohal Prairie and was known for its beauty. Whilst most of the Prairie was open space, woodlands and hilly crags were scattered throughout. These pockets of greenery were the places where the prairie people had made their homes. They used the stones and trees to create small shelters, but they also lived in subterranean dens.
Mostly, the Wolf people live in small packs, usually with one male as leader, and a number of females who care for the young. No one really knows if these people are of human origin, but it is said that they are capable of shape changing into a huge wolves. They were not the only shape changing creatures that lived in these lands. Legend has it there were bears too. The shape changing bears lived in the mountainous region on Mount Arrid, the other side of Slohal Prairie.
The two races lived side by side, peacefully. Mount Arrid, on the border of Palara, is considered impenetrable, not only because of the impassable mountain peaks, but the bears are formidable border guards. They will let no one pass. This was one border that Queen Myriam did not have to concern herself with.
As the men rode along the cliff top pathway, Ganry looked out to sea, watching the waves crashing up against the rugged rock face. The pounding sounds of the sea always soothed his thoughts. Riley came up to ride by his side. It was clear from the look on his face that he wanted to speak with Ganry.
“Do you believe Artas to be fit enough for this journey?”
Ganry glanced behind him without stopping his grey speckled horse. Artas looked as if he was sleeping, with his eyes open. It was true, Artas had been acting rather strange as of late, but he had assumed it was exhaustion from the fast journey they had taken back from Mirnee. After all, he was not a seasoned warrior, just yet.
“You lead, I’ll go speak with him.” Ganry turned his horse to ride towards the young man.
“Artas, my friend, you look like you’re about to fall from that saddle. What ails you?” Ganry joked, trying to keep the mood light.
Above, the white gulls squawked as they flapped their wings overhead, diving into the water to capture a fish or two. The tide was in, so sea spray occasionally splashed over the top of the cliffs as the waves crashed their way into the land. Ganry breathed in the salty aroma, wondering why Artas did not reply to his question. He leaned over to give him a little nudge on his shoulder, causing Artas to jolt awake.
“How do you do that?” Ganry asked. “I know no one who can sleep on a horse with their eyes op
en.”
“Was I sleeping?”Artas said, surprise in his tone. “I don’t think so, Ganry.”
“Do you feel tired?”
“No. I feel light headed, if truth be known. Surely this is not reason enough to send me back?” he asked, worrying this would be Ganry’s course of action.
“You sure?” Ganry was puzzled, thinking that maybe he had picked up some illness from Mirnee.
“I am fine, I’m just not sleeping too well. A few days out on the road and I will be better. Don’t send me back, please,” he pleaded, his blue eyes now alert and awakened.
“We are up against witches, Artas,” Ganry reminded him. “Powerful witches who can raise the dead. We are also facing shape changers, who, whilst they may swear fealty to our Queen, do not particularly like the company of humans. You tell me, are you up to it?”
“I’ve always wanted to go to the land of the shape changers since I first heard about them in my lessons. I long to meet them.”
“I want you to get a good night’s sleep, there are enough of us for guard duty. Then in the morning, I want you up at the crack of dawn for practice.” Ganry was determined that Artas would take care of himself in a fight, for he would not have time to look out for him.
“Yes, sir,” Artas replied, a smile to his eyes. It was clear he was glad to be continuing on the journey, but Ganry would make him pull his weight.
“Make yourself useful when we stop and help the men set up camp. There is wood to be gathered for the fires and water to be drawn.”
“Yes, sir,” was all Artas replied.
“And stop calling me sir,” Ganry grumbled as he turned his horse to ride to the rear end of the party. He would talk with the Sergeant, make sure Artas was given the same instructions as the rest of the soldiers. He would request the medic that was riding with them to keep an eye on him, make sure he wasn’t ill. Something was making him tired, and it wasn’t from hard work. If he did some manual labor then perhaps he’d sleep well this night, and ride better in his saddle during the day, without looking as if he was going to fall off it.
20
Artas continued to play his part, contributing where he was instructed. Although he slept deeply on a night, he was still so very tired all the time. The medic had confirmed there was nothing physically wrong with him, so Ganry had no real reason to send him back, not that he wanted to. He knew that sending him back would do nothing but harm to Artas’s reputation, and that served no purpose. Ganry just hoped that in time, Artas would shrug off whatever it was that ailed him.
After a few uneventful days of traveling through Palara, they were nearing the Slohal Prairie. The route took them past a huge stretch of water, Lake Gomaran, and Ganry felt it a good place to camp. The lake waters would allow them the luxury of bathing, something they had not been able to do since they set off.
Camp was soon set up and food cooking on fires. Most of the men bathed in the lake, grateful to be washing away days of road grime. The atmosphere in the camp was relaxed and jovial, with good food and even a little wine. Soon, they were settling into their bedrolls for the night. Most had been apprehensive about their quest, having heard they were to enter the wolf territory. None had ever been there before. Tonight, what lay before them concerned no one. They were happy to be clean, well fed and relaxed. Guard duty was light with only two men at a time on night watch.
Even Ganry, for the first time since he had returned to Palara, felt at ease and was soon fast asleep. Though as always with Ganry, his senses, tuning in for any dangers, remained alert, even when he slept. He felt nothing could threaten them here. They were still well inside Palara’s borders.
The night watch walked the perimeter every hour, starting at the same point together and going in opposite directions before ending back up at the point they had started from. They had just returned from a perimeter check, and it was almost time to be relieved by the next Watch. Sitting down with their backs to the lake, one of them pulled out his pouch of tobacco and filled his pipe. Alighting it to share, they sat quietly chatting, unwinding for their turn to sleep.
The lake was large enough to create its own tide, and the shore line lapped by the gentle ripples of movement in the water, lulling the guards into a relaxed state.
They were so deeply engrossed in their shared smoke, that neither of them heard the sounds of footsteps emerging from the water. Shadowy figures approached them, unseen, from the lake.
Suddenly, looming over them were a large number of creatures, dripping wet. Too late, they realized the danger, as one of the creatures grappled with a guard before biting deeply into his neck. The soldier screamed in agony as his life’s blood spurted from the huge gaping wound. The other soldier, terrified at the sight of what looked like dead men walking, was frozen to the spot with fear. In no time, he was completely overcome by a number of the creatures who ripped and bit at his exposed skin.
The screams from the last dying soldiers alerted the others in the camp, and soon everyone was on their feet, swords in hands.
Ganry, instantly upon hearing the scream, leapt out of his bedroll, WindStorm ready for the attack. Even he gasped at the sight that unfolded in front of him. By the dim light of the campfire he could see the creatures attacking his men. They were same as the undead he had witnessed in Mirnee, with grey, colorless skin, hanging in tatters to show exposed bones. Wide eyes, bloodshot and lifeless. On the floor lay two of his men, what was left of them, their ravaged bodies surrounded by the creatures who seemed to be feeding on their flesh.
One among them still slept despite the carnage. Artas was in a deep dream, a beautiful woman danced provocatively before him. As he tried to approach her, she seemed constantly out of range. He started to run, to catch her up, but she was always just out of reach. In the back of his mind he could hear the sounds of battle, but whenever he tried to concentrate on them, the beautiful woman came close enough to touch. Then, when he reached out to touch her, she was gone again. Looking around, whichever way he turned his head, all he saw was the dancing woman. What was she hiding from him? He knew something was happening. He was needed, but he could not break this mesmerizing spell over the woman of beauty before him.
There was no clanging of swords, for the dead did not parry with weapons. They simply used their hands and teeth. This was an army without command and also without feeling. The dead were not scared, they felt no horror or fear. They simply had a constant hunger, a hunger to feed on the living as if that might impart on them some of the life they had lost. They continued to swarm out of the lake, and soon the soldiers were surrounded by ungodly bodies of putrefaction.
In unison, they all opened their mouths unnaturally wide, gaping dark pits that filled even the bravest of soldiers with fear. A high pitched wail, deafening to the living, emanated from their gaping mouths, transfixing everyone where they stood. Unable to move, even to raise their swords in defense, they creatures approached slowly on the undefended men.
Ganry, using all his willpower, forced his mind to cut out the deafening screech. Once he fought off the paralysis, he barked out orders. “Their heads, cut off their heads, it’s the only way!”
His words spurred on the rest of his men, the spell broken by his rallying cry. Soon all were attacking the undead creatures, swinging their weapons down in an arc, detaching heads from bodies. Though the dead outnumbered the living by ten to one, it did not take long for the soldiers to work their way through them. They were cumbersome in movement, slow and ungainly. They offered no defense when attacked, instead just moving relentlessly forward. By the end, a few of the troop were injured, but thankfully no others were lost.
The soldiers left standing gathered the dead together in a pile and set them alight. The flames burned a bright orange and blue, unlike any flame they had seen before. After what they had witnessed this evening, nothing surprised them. Everyone gathered around the pyre, watching as the creatures burned, which they did so remarkable easily. Covering their mouths and noses
against the stench, the heap of bodies was nothing more than a pile of ashes in no time.
Ganry, satisfied they were safe for now, looked for Riley to plan their next move, but he was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Artas. He quickly went to Artas’s tent and there he also found Riley, leaning over the young nobleman.
“He has slept through the whole event,” Riley said, confusion on his face. “I’m not even sure he sleeps, but yet still he breathes.”
Ganry bent down to inspect Artas. Not only did the he sleep deeply, he slept with his eyes open. He spoke his name and roughly shook him. “Artas, come on, wake up you lazy dog.”
Artas’s eyes slowly shut. He brought up his hand to rub them. When he opened them again, he was finally awake.
“Ganry, I had the strangest of dreams. What is happening to me?”
“I don’t know, boy, the world has gone crazy,” Ganry said, sighing with relief that he was conscious. Just for a moment there, he thought he might not ever waken. “One thing I do know, wherever those dead are, the witches aren’t far away. That means they have infiltrated the border to get this far. You can bet that General Jeon is among them. It’s time for us to be moving. Refresh yourself, Artas, we’re riding out.”
21
The incident by the lake had unsettled everyone’s nerves. With the horses jittery and the men constantly on alert, all jumped at every unexpected sound. They rode along in silence, only the beat of the horses hooves could be heard, each man staring stoically ahead. No one had ever faced fighting a walking corpse before and many of the men were still in shock.
Ganry was silent, deep in his own thoughts. He pondered on how the General knew his location, because surely he must? That attack was not a random event, of this he was sure. He was surprised that the General was so close to him, so soon. They needed to increase their urgency and find the child as quickly as possible.
If Jeon was somehow keeping tabs on him, then it seemed likely to Ganry that they had a traitor in the camp, but who? Was it was Riley? Perhaps it was. He hardly knew the man and yet he had been willing to trust him. If it was Riley, how was he passing information on? He never seemed to go missing. Whenever Ganry had looked for him he was always close by.