“Do you defy the will of Rayogin, citizen?”
She smiled, took a deep breath, and stared straight into his eyes. “Rayogin is a false god!”
“How dare you say such things?” He raised his open palm and attempted for Ganis’ cheek. She caught his falling hand.
The man’s eyes raged with anger. He pulled his hand free and gestured the soldiers to attack her. With wooden sticks raised, they approached Ganis, encircling her and separating their leader behind them. Their sticks fell and Ganis struck.
Ganis reached for the mace hanging from one of the Scyld guards’ belt, ripping it free, and struck at his knee, all actions she did before the first stick was flung. Knee shattered, the man fell and screamed, holding his broken extremity in both arms.
Another swing met the mace’s pointy butt with the gut of a guard, going through his armor and spine, felling the man in one swoop. The sticks got too close for Ganis to strike once more. She tumbled to one side, tripping another guard while doing so.
Guards no longer separated her from their captain. She swung her mace brutally onto his left foot, crushing bone and ripping skin. He kept standing, screaming in shock. She reached to his belt and drew a dagger, stabbing his other leg and dropping him. She pulled it free and flung it at the third guard who had encircled her. It struck his heart.
The guard she had tripped regained his footing. She jumped towards him, swinging her mace as she fell on his head, splitting it in a thousand small pieces. Ganis scanned the area for the guard with a broken knee. When she spotted him, crawling away, she threw the mace at his head. It struck and he stopped moving.
“Now,” Ganis said, approaching the captain, “where were we?”
The man cowered away, clumsily moving his damaged legs in an attempt to distance himself from Ganis. “Rayogin is a false god,” he shouted.
“So quick to forsake your god,” Ganis noted. She reached for the man’s neck and lifted him from where he lay soiled in blood and excrement. “You had your chance once, now you know too much to be kept alive.” With a snap, the man was no longer among the living.
Ganis crossed into friendlier lands, leaving five corpses soiled in blood behind.
3
A column of smoke rose into the sky from Hearthdale’s direction. The town was still a day’s march away, too long for Ganis to endure. She tapped into her Dark Gift and ran towards Hearthdale.
Ganis’ eyes fell upon a horrifying sight when she reached her destination, the ruins of Hearthdale. Remnants of burnt buildings produced a strong smell of fresh ash engulfing Ganis’ senses. If she was quicker, Ganis thought, the disaster might have been averted.
In a bout of despair Ganis fell on her knees and wept. Utyirth had struck yet another blow to Ganis’ naive hopes. The longing she had to be surrounded by her past allies, the oblivious people of Hearthdale with their children’s innocence, was no more a longing she could satisfy, it seemed to Ganis at the moment.
She raised her head to check for anything that escaped the destruction, but there was nothing left but rubble. The absence of corpses gave her hope, and the will she needed to investigate. All forms of destruction, Asclepius had told her, left a trace of their origins.
The Heart of the Hearth, she remembered, always escaped the assaults. She ran towards the central building, where she had met the Hearthwarden, and came to another difficult realization. This attack was not like the others. It was meant to be the last.
The Heart of the Hearth was in shambles. The structure had not been burnt, but it suffered a similar fate. A toppling roof made the inside inaccessible. Ganis encircled the Heart of the Hearth, seeking any windows or openings leading inside, but instead came upon another horrific sight.
Dozens of burnt corpses hung on wooden beams impaled into the ground. Men, women and even children suffered the terrible fate, being burnt alive. Her knees could no longer support her weight and she fell crying. For a time she remained there with her head resting on the ground, eyes down in morning for the unidentifiable victims of the massacre.
When she raised her head, tears no longer flowing, Ganis found a pack of large hounds surrounding her. She wanted to die, but not yet. Ganis slowly stood and prepared herself, shrugging off the overwhelming sadness. This was not a time to mourn - it was a time to fight.
Ganis looked at the beasts in the eye, making a statement to them. She was not going to run or cower. A large hound accepted the challenge and leaped towards her with bared fangs.
As the hound fell, she pushed him aside and onto the ground. “Wait!” she shouted in an incontrollable burst. Hounds could not speak!
The hounds waited. It was not how beasts reacted. Then she remembered Monolos’ pups. Did he really succeed at teaching them our tongue?
She stood erect, abandoning her stance, and asked, “Watchers?”
The hounds growled and barked, but uttered no words. Yet they did wait as commanded.
“I am a companion of Monolos and Hephaestion.” She continued to stand idly, with knees straight and arms falling to her side.
One of the hounds took a step towards Ganis. His grimace faded and his eyes were freed from violence. The hound hesitated for a moment then looked up, revealing a faint glow emanating from beneath the fur covering his neck. He looked back down and stared at Gains. “Is what you speak true?” the green-eyed hound asked.
“Aye.” She noticed the accent she picked at Initium Keep return. It was more obvious now that she was no longer surrounded by those who spoke in such manner.
“Then you must be one of the ten.”
“Indeed I am, but the others might not be aware of my survival.”
“In my ten season of life, I have seen only eight of the ten. Of the two I have not seen I was told that one perished before I was born, and the other was captured shortly afterwards. Are you the captured one?”
“Indeed I was.” She paused. “I am Ganis.”
As soon as the hounds heard her name they lowered their heads in what appeared to be a canine bow. Their leader was the first to end the gesture. The others followed.
“Are the others safe?”
“Yes.”
“Then they can continue to manage without my immediate return for a bit longer. I have to investigate the destruction of Hearthdale. What do you know about it?” Ganis naturally fell into her former self’s mannerism, the cold Peacekeeper who prioritized her task above all other things.
“Attacks similar to this one have been occurring lately, Ninth. We tracked down the source to Aurae Keep.”
“Aurae Keep,” she whispered the name. It was a strange name to her, one that she could not recognize even after uttering it. “Where is this Aurae Keep?”
“Southwest of here.” The hound turned his head, pointing his snout to the general direction he indicated.
“Thank you, Watcher. Let my companions know that I will be joining them shortly.”
Without allowing the Watcher to respond, Ganis leaped towards Aurae Keep. The people of Hearthdale will be avenged!
4
Aurae Keep, a solitary bastion of power by the southern edge of the mainland, broke the horizon with its pointed dark grey towers. Vines clung to the stones of the outer wall, a natural decoration to the otherwise bleak sight, and crows claimed its peaks.
A single large iron gate barred Ganis from entry, a minor obstruction to her. She crept around, sizing the castle and attempting to determine the size of the force housed within, till nightfall, after having reached it at noon.
Other than its size the structure had no defensive gaps. It would be a difficult target for an unprepared force - one not accompanied by experienced engineers specialized in the building of war machines. But Ganis was not an army and she suffered from none of their handicaps.
With surprise on her side, Ganis knew that it would be necessary for her success to strike suddenly and fast, before the Scyld force within could get a chance to react. Yet the odds were against her, for she h
ad neither advantage in numbers nor in weaponry, she only had the Dark Gift and a single mastered word of influence.
It was midnight when Ganis decided to attack. She crept on the vines to climb the wall. A single guard patrolled the section, with no eyes on him other than Ganis’ – an easy target. Ganis whispered to him, causing him to approach curiously. When he was in her reach, she grabbed a knife she had picked up from Hearthdale and stabbed him in the throat. He tried to scream, but his voice betrayed him. The man died choking on his own blood, hidden behind some barrels on the wall.
Ganis climbed and immediately crouched once atop the wall keeping her head down. She subtly rushed to one of the towers with a single torch-lit window. She made out the shadows of two guards; flames making them dance on the walls behind. Continuing her subterfuge, she climbed the short spiraling stairway and pressed against the wall once only the gateway separated her from the two Scylds.
“…and that was it, by Rayogin I swear,” one of the guards said and the other laughed.
Still with only the knife in hand, Ganis drew a deep breath before attacking. With two deadly swoops the guards fell with throats slit. It was the only way she could keep them from shouting. Three down.
Ganis did not know how many they were, but she knew their numbers would not recuperate by the time her assault was done, unless by some twisted turn of fate reinforcements arrived. She looked at the knife, bloodied by the three it felled, and examined its make. Its sharpness would not last for long, even if it never made contact with steel, and steel they wore.
A sword and a mace lay tucked into the fallen guards’ belts, weapons she deemed useful. Ganis took the armament and continued away to the next tower. A patrolling guard on the wall met the same fate as the others, a cut throat slit from behind. The next tower, with three guards of which two slept, offered Ganis little deterrence, and her blade would still not last.
Ganis felled a few over two dozen before a guard eluded her stealth. The man was alert, unlike the others, and loudly yelled “who’s there” when he suspected an intruder, turning the eyes of many others to him. He met the same fate as his dead allies, but not without revealing Ganis.
Many shouts erupted, all leading the guards towards Ganis, and a fight began. She still did not know how many remained and hoped to find out before her strength betrayed her.
Two guards, quickly climbing the stairs from the courtyard to the wall, charged at Ganis. She dodged their blows with ease and struck at their sides with her mace, dropping them to their deaths. A horn sounded and the inner gate of the keep opened with seven more guards emerging from within before it was shut.
She tumbled, dodged and parried the many blows directed at her, avoiding and diverting maces, swords and flails. Her skills were far beyond her foes’ and they soon realized the difference. Another shout emerged, which Ganis could not identify the signal it gave, and four crossbowmen appeared from a window within the keep. They released repeated volleys of bolts, with no coordination and poor aim. Ganis avoided as many as she could, but one hit her shoulder. She suppressed her pain and continued swinging like a ferocious beast.
Blood trailed on her arm to her palm, making the mace’s handle slippery. In one attempt to strike a Scyld the mace escaped her grip after crushing the man’s skull. She dropped to another stance and used her arm to push and shove instead of wielding a weapon she could not wholly grip.
Then another wave of three Scylds was released from within the keep, gate remaining unclosed, and charged at her. It was her chance, and an indicator to the dwindling number of Scylds. Ganis dispatched of the men, but not before one managed to strike her side. She yelped in pain and leveraged the force to swing her blade at his head. Its dullness made a large shallow cut, but still claimed the Scyld’s life.
Ignoring her pain and soreness, she rushed into the gate, avoiding the rare bolt, and made her way into the keep. It was faintly lit with low-burning oil lamps, enough to grant her unhindered sight, another advantage she had over the remaining Scylds.
The keep was small, three tiers high and having no more than two dozen rooms without the halls. A short rush towards the window led Ganis to a trap. The four crossbowmen barred a door to a room which Ganis assumed they were barricaded within, and she carelessly hammered at the obstruction with her mace.
From behind her three bolts were shot – the last of their ammunition – and one grazed her back while another lunged itself into her hip. She yelped in agony as the force tripped her. The four guards then rushed towards her with maces raised.
As the weapons fell, two directed towards her head, she rolled towards the aggressors, taking the hit from one mace with the wooden handle instead of the steel, another painful strike yet not as deadly. She grabbed at the handle as the Scyld pulled it back and pushed his knee away, dropping the man. She then stood in one graceful swoop and crushed his knee with her new weapon.
The remaining guards charged in an uncoordinated manner. She produced the Hearthdale knife she had tucked away and slashed carefully at their necks. Two fell with bloodied throats and the other met the knife with his eye in a careless attempt to evade it.
And Aurae Keep was silent.
Ganis, with a blade still gripped by her unyielding hand, collapsed. She reached to one of the Scylds gasping for breath that would not come and dug her fangs into his neck, feasting on the dying man. The burning of her wounds lessened and part of her vitality returned, but the damage she had received was too much to recover from so quickly.
Ganis turned to lie on her back, surrounded by the four Scyld corpses, closed her eyes and spread her arms apart, relaxing all the muscles in her body. Her brief rest was interrupted as she heard the sound of boots quickly pacing in the courtyard.
She opened her eyes and fought the command of her body to remain limp, clumsily standing up. Her bones cracked as she moved, producing a sharp pain extending from her knee to the top of her spine, but she resisted.
Looking around, Ganis found a crossbow resting on the wall. It fell strangely, she thought. She pulled the bolt stuck in her thigh, growling at the pain, and loaded the crossbow. Her aim was always good, even in such challenging conditions, yet her trust in the weapon was not.
She stood by the window looking at the wall’s gate and saw the man running towards the exit. He was almost there, yet it was still a distance which allowed Ganis ample time to shoot him. A bolt flew and dropped the man, his extended hand barely touching the gate.
Ganis collapsed.
5
Loud footsteps woke Ganis up. She quickly leaped to her feet and grabbed at the first weapon within her reach, it was the Hearthdale knife dug into the Scyld’s eye. Looking at the weapon revealed its condition - it has been dulled beyond its usefulness - and convinced Ganis to discard it. A mace would serve as a better substitute.
“Are you certain she is still here?” a familiar voice said. King Ragnar!
“I cannot say for certain,” another responded. It was an unnaturally coarse voice - that of a Warden hound.
Ganis dropped her mace and forced herself to straighten, in spite of the pain shooting up her spine. Then King Ragnar revealed himself, bowing down to enter through the doorway. “Excelsis Dignus!” King Ragnar knelt.
“Please arise, King Ragnar. It isn’t fitting for a king to bow as often.” She saw a yellow-eyed companion appear beside him. “Yellow-Eyes?”
The hound lowered his head. “It is I, Ninth.”
The hound’s manner revealed to Ganis that it was the pup Monolos had rescued when they first came to Utyirth. Even if the color of his brown fur and yellow eyes were slightly changed, Ganis would still be able to recognize him. It was something about the way he smelled and moved that spoke to her, not his colors.
“Excelsis Dignus.” King Ragnar paused for a moment, reflectively, and said, “Razul, I have something for you.” He removed a long piece of grey cloth strapped on his back and unwound the ropes tying it.
“Eos!” G
anis said. “Hephaestion retrieved it?” She reached for the blade, brushing it gently with two fingers once. It felt like a weight lifted from her shoulders and her breath returned after a long time of being suppressed. She has never been as relieved.
“Actually it was Ninazu. He insisted to safeguard it himself until your return.”
“Thank you, King Ragnar.”
“Razul, the Highborn were lost without you. We did follow your teaching and found strength in unity, as you promised we would. Many of us, myself included, hoped that you would once again consider being our Excelsis Dignus,” King Ragnar said with unwavering voice and tone.
She took a deep breath, feeling the air filling her lungs entirely and washing away a portion of her pain. “The Highborn proved to me that they are worthy and loyal enough. You may call me Excelsis Dignus, if you wish. Take me back to Scandur to make the announcement.”
King Ragnar’s face revealed a slight touch of a smile, the first of such expression Ganis had ever seen on his stone-like face.
6
New villages surrounding the humble keep of Scandur had been erected during Ganis’ banishment, yet Scandur itself seemed to remain unchanged from a distance. It has been sixteen seasons. They really did it, Ganis thought.
King Ragnar led his Excelsis Dignus proudly as her steed followed his through the dirt paths connecting the villages. Different clusters of tents and huts were scattered around Scandur Keep, each slightly different yet all bearing a common element.
When the villagers had arrived, Yellow-Eyes explained to Ganis, they congregated among their own, and thus the different clusters were formed. The social distance did not reflect the sentiment.
“Excelsis Dignus,” the villagers cried, alerting their neighbors of Ganis’ arrival. Highborn and mid-villager alike raced to the main path leading to the keep. They stood side by side, clad in finer clothes than she remembered, greeting her and bowing whenever she passed by them.
Book of Kayal: Strength of Unity Page 18