by Jon Kiln
“We will not negotiate with the boy’s life!” Myriam shouted back, though her voice did not carry as loudly.
“Foolish woman, your stubbornness will see more Palarans dead,” the witch woman announced. “Give me the albino boy and we will leave your Kingdom immediately. Refuse and the humans will continue to die. Is one boy worth all these Palaran deaths, Queen Myriam?”
“Enough, you care nothing for my people, so do not lecture me on this devilish deed. I do not negotiate with defilers and abusers. Open fire!” she cried, and instantly a rain of arrows flew over the castle walls and onto the gathered masses below them.
The attack was directed at the Mirnee soldiers and the witch on horseback. As wave after wave of arrows descended on them, many soldiers fell under the onslaught. They were taken completely in surprise by the attack, having been led to believe that the young Queen would crumble. Many Mirnean soldiers lost their lives that day because of that false belief.
The witch on horseback was completely untouched by the rain of arrows, even though many were directed at her. It was clear that some magical defense was protecting her.
“I would have appreciated some forewarning, my Queen,” Ganry spoke, taken aback by the unexpected attack.
“The time for parley is over, Ganry, too many Palarans have lost their lives. It is time to strike back, and strike back hard. There will be no peace until those witches are dead.”
“Of course, you are right, but the arrows did not touch the witch. This war cannot be won with sword or arrow.”
“Then now is the time for the wolves to show their loyalties,” Myriam said, turning to Grecia. “Are you with us?”
“The wolves of Palara will always stand with their Queen. We will hunt down and kill the witches, or die trying.”
Myriam smiled and laid her hand on Grecia’s shoulder, in thanks. “Your support is most welcome, my friend. Let us stand together, as did our ancestors.”
Their discussion was interrupted by cannon fire. The guns on the battlement spat out heavy shots, which crashed into the ranks of the undead below. The cannon fodder cut a huge swathe through their ranks, knocking many to the ground, crushed.
Ganry was impressed with Myriam’s decisiveness. She must have organized this earlier, readying her archers and cannons. He looked down on the ground outside the castle, only to see chaos reign. He had not expected the fighting to begin until the witches forced it upon them, but it was his brave Queen who took swift action against an evil foe.
He spotted the witch on the horse, and even from the battlements it was clear she was furious and completely taken by surprise. What happened next was an even greater surprise to all who witnessed. The witch jumped from her horse, springing into the air and emitting a rumbling roar from deep inside her chest. Her body changed before their eyes. When she landed on the ground, she was no longer a woman, but a huge brown bear. She looked up at the battlements, directly at Myriam and Ganry, and roared her anger.
“It is as I suspected,” Grecia shouted over the noise of battle. “She has been bitten by a shape changer, and she is all the more powerful for it.”
As Ganry helped to reload the cannon, they directed it to the giant bear that pounded on the gates to the castle.
“That bear will have those gates down in no time!” Riley shouted as he stood by Ganry’s side.
“We have enhanced the gates, magically,” Grecia said. “They will hold for now and give us some time, but we need a plan, and quickly.”
Ganry nodded. “Riley, go find Artas, I have an idea for the walking corpses. If it works then we can eliminate that threat and our men can deal with Mirnean soldiers, leaving the wolves to deal with the witches.”
Riley left quickly, in search of Artas, wondering what Ganry had in mind. As he ran along, he looked over the battlement, curiously, to see how the battle progressed. The wolfman, Randor, approached him.
“Come, we must hurry,” Randor, said to him. “We need to find Artas. Grecia has sent me to help you and I sense he is close.”
“Why do the corpses not attack the Mirnean soldiers?” Riley asked, more to himself, as he had noticed this.
“It is the witches, they have control of their feeble minds. Look, there, is that not Artas?” Randor pointed to a young soldier.
Standing on the battlement fighting with a Mirnean soldier who was attempting to get over the parapet, was Artas, his sword busy as he slew any Mirnean who had managed to climb the walls.
They ran, and pulled him away from the wall, directing another soldier into his place.
“Leave me be!” he cried as he was forced back. “We need every able man here.”
“You have a far more dangerous task, young Artas,” Randor told him.
“Ganry sends for you,” Riley said, to confirm the wolfman’s statement.
“Well, come on then, let’s not tally, battles need to be fought,” he shouted, running off and leaving his two comrades looking at the space on the ground where he had just stood.
29
Ganry rallied the soldiers, leaving only a contingency within the walls. They were to take the battle outside. This would help the wolves track down the witches, as the men could engage the army.
Artas and Riley had their own instructions and went in search of horses and the other object that Ganry had requested.
The castle guards marched outside through the tunnels, which led into the forest, offering them some cover when they first emerged. Once on the outside of the walls, the wolf people changed shape and disappeared deeper into the forest, where the witches were most likely hiding. The soldiers, led by Ganry and his commanders, broke into groups of three. A third of the soldiers were to engage the undead, the rest would attack the Mirnee invaders.
The battle was fierce and bloody. Undead were cut down in swathes by Palaran soldiers. Soon the ground was covered in many headless bodies. The battle with the Mirnean soldiers though, was progressing more slowly. These were also seasoned soldiers and difficult to cut down, not giving any ground.
The undead seemed never ending, hundreds upon hundreds of them, all oblivious to their surroundings. Relentlessly they moved forward, biting and clawing at any living creature that stood in their way. Where had the witches found all these people, Ganry thought. He realized that some were also Mirneans, confirming his suspicions that the witches had brought corpses across the borders. This would not have been an easy task, controlling all these mindless creatures. The Mirnean soldiers must have helped by keeping them grouped together like some macabre cattle run.
Riley and Artas rode up to Ganry on horse back. “So what’s this grand plan of yours, and why do we need this Gjallarhorn?” Riley queried, holding up the horn so Ganry could see it.
“The witches rounded up the corpses with the sound of a horn. I have seen it a few times now. They seem attracted to its sound,” Ganry explained. “I am hoping we can do the same. Direct the corpses away from the battlefield, that will make our task here easier with just the Mirnean’s to fight. Find higher ground and blow the horn. If all goes as planned, then they will follow you. Take some more men to help control them, but ensure you all keep your distance. Lead them away from the castle and into open land. Once you’re at a distance, start to deal with them. Let’s grant them the peace they deserve.”
The two men saluted Ganry and rode off over towards higher ground. He hoped the witches were too busy escaping the wolves to thwart his plan.
Heading off towards the forest, in the direction he had seen the wolves go, the trees became denser, and the lack of light made it difficult to see clearly. A rising of the hairs on the back of his neck alerted him to danger, and he quickly lunged to his left. A huge spiked club came crashing down on the spot he had just been standing, smashing into a young sapling and sending splinters of wood everywhere. The owner of the club was as comparably huge, a giant of a man in a Mirnean uniform.
“Ganry de Rosenthorn,” he growled, in a deep, husky tone. “Genera
l Jeon asked me to convey his compliments, before I kill you.”
“I would ask you to return my compliments to the General, but I fear your life will end here today, Mirnean soldier. Are you ready for that?”
“You are no match for me, Rosenthorn,” the man roared, “I am champion brawler of the 47th Division. I have killed more men in battle than the whole of my platoon. You will just be another notch on my club.”
Ganry stood his ground and watched the huge warrior approach him. He must have stood well over nine feet and towered above Ganry. He wondered if he was a true giant from the north. He had heard of these people living in far off lands. Though he understood them to be shy, preferring not to be seen.
“Let’s find out if you have a heart then, giant,” Ganry said, drawing his sword.
Barely had Ganry finished speaking, than the giant rushed at him, his club swinging back and crashing down towards Ganry’s head. Ganry avoided the blow, spinning around on the balls of his feet, his sword glinting in the dim light as it flashed across the giants huge bicep, opening a wound that trickled red with his blood.
The giant roared, as much in frustration as pain, and stood looking at Ganry with a surprised look on his face. Again, drawing back his club he lunged at the former mercenary. This time he thought he had him, a look of triumph on his face as his weapon swung down, but that soon turned to a look of despair. Again, Ganry had feinted his movement and the giant’s club thudded into the ground. Rosenthorn was like a little gnat, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not swat it.
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 hairs breadth.
Ganry, on 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 battle ground 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 soon 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.”
Wit
h 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
Every one 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 harms 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 peoples. I know very little about the giant’s from our lands. Now is a good time to learn. After all, he is a Mirnean.”