“Are you the one I met at Hearthdale?”
“Indeed I am, Ninth. My name is Glowleaf.” Glowleaf calmly bowed in his canine manner. Strangely, it was a natural one, even with his four canine limbs.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Glowleaf.” She nodded her head friendlily, a response she deemed fitting.
“Come, Ninth, Master Monolos has been eager to see you.” For a moment, Ganis believed that the hound smiled, but again, she realized it might have only been an illusion. She nodded and started following the Watcher.
Dead leaves crumbled beneath their steps – it had become dry within the forest – and the cold grew even milder. It was a suitable place to go to avoid the freezing winds of the Utyirth nights, but anyone who was not a friend of the Watchers would fare better in the unforgiving howls of nature beyond.
They marched deeper into the forest and came to a wide clearing within the heart of the forest where snowflakes fell freely on the ground.
Monolos was squatting in the center when he welcomed her. “And now we are complete.” While giving his back to Ganis, the beast-master stood, remaining idle for a moment before turning to face Ganis and saying, “The children have been eager to meet you.”
At his cue, hundreds of hounds appeared from within the forest, covering the clearing entirely, and slowly approached Ganis, pointing their muzzles towards her and sniffing at her hands if they were close enough. Some produced howls of joy, with echoes that brought life to the forest.
“I am not deserving of such honor, Monolos.” She then looked around and scanned her canine crowd and repeated, “I am not deserving of such honor, Watchers, for I have done nothing.”
Monolos smiled and looked up at the hawk soaring above. He lowered his gaze to address Ganis and said, “Screo did not rest for the past sixteen seasons - looking for you. He sensed your absence and was most disturbed.”
Monolos raised his left arm, a leather bracer covering it entirely, and the hawk descended. He quickly flew in one graceful path towards Monolos’ arm and stood, looking intently into Ganis’ eyes. “He is as much a member of our Ona as you and I.”
Ganis raised her hand to pet the hawk, but briefly pulled it back as he moved his beak, intending to gently nibble on her finger. She then understood the gesture and allowed the hawk to do as he pleased. It was the first time she touched Screo.
“Never have I felt so secluded.” She looked away from the hawk and at Monolos. “How is it that after all this time apart, even with the short time we spent together, that I feel this…connection?”
Monolos smiled. “Because it’s our nature. When Partha fell, after the First Civil War, it had become a divided city with a divided people. The last of the Ona at the time were not even attuned to one another, it was like having ten forces, each of one soldier. Outnumbered and uncoordinated, we were swiftly defeated by the Council’s forces.
“You see, Ganis, we became weak because we chose to talk of differences rather than similarities. We had forgotten that we all share the same lands, the same air, the same food and water; we had forgotten that the life of any living creature is worth saving, no matter which side they chose.
“And it is when we have embraced the forces of ruin rather than those of preservation that we lost what made us strong.” Monolos walked around Ganis, the Watchers clearing him a path wherever he went. “Now our Ona is finally strong. We are ready for Naa’tas.”
“About that,” Ganis said. She turned to face Monolos who managed a way behind her. Her eyes were filled with worry and a genuine aura of concern dominated her mannerism. “Naa’tas is far stronger than we thought he would be.”
“And the Dark Gift?”
“I was like a child in his hands, Dark Gift or not.”
Monolos hummed and lowered his head, scratching his chin as he thought for a moment. “Perhaps it’s time to send word to Nosgard. Perhaps they would have a solution.”
“We are the solution. Emperor Servak certainly knew what we were going to face. Anaria herself prepared the reports about Naa’tas.”
“Then Pax be with us when the time comes.” He paused for a moment, examining Ganis’ reaction, and continued, “With all of us.”
Ganis looked around and saw the Watchers’ eyes still falling upon her. They had stopped sniffing at her, but their interests in her have all but faded. “What of the Watchers. What will be of them?”
“They seem keen on following us wherever we go.”
“Even to Nosgard?”
“Even to Nosgard,” Monolos repeated. Glowleaf approached him and stood to his right. The green-eyed hound was clearly larger than the others. He stood a head higher than the tallest of them and was a half-time wider.
“I suppose the Silver Stags would find their skills invaluable.” Ganis remembered when she was first held captive in the imperial city of Gallecia, awaiting to hear her judgment from the Demigod Emperor Servak just after he overthrew the Council. She had met Daphne Laurel at the time, the freed Silver Stag leader who pledged the Silver Stags’ loyalty to the Emperor, and it was the closest she ever got to one of the wardens.
Daphne Laurel was the best in her trade, an infamous bounty hunter and leader of the Order of Silver Stags, an elite unit of prison wardens who oversaw the affairs of the Gallecian prisons. Once the Council defeated the Parthans, in their bout of consolidating their position, they eliminated a great deal of orders they thought could threaten them, the Order of Silver Stags included.
“It would be a suitable arrangement,” Monolos said. He exchanged glances with Greenleaf.
Greenleaf cleared his throat with a canine bark, and said, “The Three will not object to your commands, Master Monolos.”
“I’m not your master, Greenleaf, no matter how many times you say it. Should you feel the urge to respect me, than manifest it in your own actions. Prove to me that the Watchers have learnt to think for themselves.” He placed a hand on Greenleaf’s head, it almost disappeared entirely in his wild winter coat, and said, “It is the way of the Empire.”
“Yet we are not part of it.”
“Not yet, brave friend. There is much to do before we solve this riddle.” Monolos looked at Ganis and said, “Let us head back to Scandur. I assume Hephaestion means to summon me.”
3
Traveling alone was never as pleasurable as traveling with a companion, no matter how accustomed one has grown to solidarity. In silence, for the most part, Ganis, Monolos and Glowleaf returned to Scandur. From wilderness to urbanism, the three traveled.
“Finally we have all gathered,” Thalia said. “It started to get boring.” She dropped a huge leather package held together with some coarse ropes hiding the contents within and pushed it with her foot towards Ganis.
The package released an unpleasant sound as its newly tanned leather screeched by the rubbing of the polished wooden floor against it. Thalia struggled to move the package with her foot, but her determination did not suffer from it - just her pride.
“By Pax, never has such a clumsy child of Pax exist before,” Eirene said. She wore white garments, half armored with white leather only at the chest and shoulders. The rest was stainless padded cloth.
Hephaestion sat on his chair in their quarters. He, too, had a package for Ganis, in the shape of a small leather pouch. “Ganis, I have something for you.” He extended his hand in offering.
She took the pouch from Hephaestion and untied the thin string binding it together. When she opened it and identified its contents, Ganis smiled and said, “Finally.” She reached to her pocket, where she used to keep her pipe, the one Commodore Habitus had given her, and found it empty. She had not taken it since her return.
Thalia approached and produced the very same pipe Ganis recognized from her own pocket, offering it to her along with a pack of matches.
Ganis took the pipe and started preparing it while she said, “Facing Naa’tas will be a problem, but there are many ways we could achieve our goal.” The Demigod
Emperor’s command was for the Parthans to neutralize the threat the Cult of Naa’tas posed to the Empire. It never specified by which means the goal should be attained.
“You have been thinking about it, I see,” Hephaestion said. He produced his own pouch and pipe and started preparing it.
“Very much indeed.” Ganis paused for a moment before answering - focusing on a task she had not gotten a chance to do for some time. The tools felt strange in her hand, at first, but she quickly remembered the proper way a pipe was prepared. “We need to strip him from power.”
“And separate him from the Scylds,” Eirene continued. “Somehow he convinced them that their god, Rayogin, sent him. It won’t be an easy task to show them the error in their ways. Faith, even when misplaced in such a false god, is a difficult thing to abandon.”
Ganis lit a match and inhaled through the readied pipe. She watched the smoke as it blew away from her, fading into the air above. “We’ll need to contact the resistance. They can create just the diversion necessary to strike such a devastating blow on the Scylds that they would question their faith.”
“It might strengthen it, Ganis. We do not know what impact such an action will have.” Eirene stated. The priestess was not only trained in the way of Pax, but also in the history of other religions. She was, Ganis trusted, an expert in all things religious, no matter how little Ganis cared for that which Eirene had dedicated her life to.
“You forget that the last time we faced Naa’tas we were far from prepared,” Hephaestion said. We had no army, barely an alliance, and knew nothing of Naa’tas and his Scylds other than the little we were told by Prince Iolcus. We are in a far better position now.”
“And when exactly do you intend to open your present?” Thalia said. She has been pushing the package closer to Ganis as she conversed with the others, but failed to attract much attention, other than the occasional look amidst speech.
Ganis looked at Thalia and her eyes fell upon the leather package. She leaned down to unwrap it and reveal its contents. When she opened it, a glorious suit of armor met her gaze. Neatly folded steel sheets matching Ganis’ exact proportions rested on a leather under-armor, all died in red – the color of the most achieved Parthan Onas.
The shoulder plates were gently twisted up, making the spiked sharp edges look intimidating, and an etching of a dead speared dragon made its way from the right shoulder to the front center of the suit, continuing on the back. A new steel and leather sheath, Eos’ new holder, matching the suit were also crafted by Thalia.
“It’s beautiful, Thalia. I thought we agreed to use black.” Ganis examined the designs intently. She held up the armor and turned it, tilting her neck every once and a while to capture the entirety of the etched imagery.
“Only until we have established a proper footing here on Utyirth,” Hephaestion responded, “a task completed long ago. Now we go back to our original color, red.”
“You did not expect anything less, I hoped,” Thalia said. She approached Ganis and offered to help with the suit, but Ganis shook her head. It was not the time.
“I didn’t think it mattered much.”
“Everything matters, Ganis,” Sigurd said. He stood further than the others and held his crossed arms in a secured lock. Nothing would make him unclench them other than his will.
Percival and Dindrane report that the army is ready,” Hephaestion said. He took another puff after he finished, it somehow made his words more impactful.
The twins nodded at the gesture.
“Not to mention armed,” Thalia added.
“We’ll need to contact the resistance and coordinate the assault. How will we do this?” Ganis asked of Hephaestion.
“I do not know. Once our plans are clearer, we will be able to coordinate our different activities better. It will likely involve you returning to Initium Keep, Ganis. There are few other ways I can think of to reach the resistance, even if we have everything else planned.”
After a brief pause, Hephaestion continued, “Though there is one thing I insist on, that the natives not be sacrificed needlessly. I believe that the Demigod Emperor Servak would relish the opportunity to bring the people of Utyirth into the fold of the Empire.”
Eirene’s face grimaced for a moment. She still intended to follow on her vow, Ganis thought, to avenge Pertinax’s death and bring justice to the Scylds indiscriminately. It was a strange thing, Ganis thought, for Eirene to be as calm as she was yet have the capacity to become driven by instinct into incredible cruelty.
Did she really understand the path of Pax?
“Then we should plan accordingly,” Ganis said. “We should plan accordingly,” puffing on her pipe, she repeated.
4
The Parthans were no longer alone in Utyirth and the magnitude of their plans was no longer only their concern, it was also that of the natives, the Highborn, the Midlanders and the Watchers.
In King Ragnar’s hall, beneath the Parthan’s quarters, representatives of all the different factions convened. King Ragnar and his two sons, Bjor and Ivar, represented the Highborn. Glowleaf and Yellow-Eyes would express their own inclinations in lieu of the other Watcher hounds, which seemed to never conflict with the Parthans.
Yet the Midland villages had thirteen representatives, all Hearthwardens. Some of the smaller villages chose to elect one representative for collectives, but most had their own. The Hearthwarden of Hearthdale, the very same woman who had invited Ganis and Hephaestion to breakfast a few times, was there. She greeted Ganis with a silent smile and nod as soon as their eyes made contact, when Ganis first scanned the guests.
“The Hearthwardens of the Midland villages.” King Ragnar pointed at the Hearthwardens who stood on one side of Scandur Keep’s hall, and started introducing them. “Rus Capum from Crest Valley, Unger Reis from Riverfell…”
The introductions continued for some time, until they concluded with Ganis, who King Ragnar called by her Highborn title, Excelsis Dignus.
An introductory ceremony just like those of Nosgard, Ganis thought. Nosgard’s influence spread far with us.
“People of Utyirth,” Hephaestion took the reins from King Ragnar, after being offered to do so. “For many seasons we have been preparing to fight the Scylds and end their oppression. We cannot ask you to join us on our mission to eliminate Naa’tas, but we can offer you the opportunity to join us.
“Ganis has returned to us from Initium Keep, where your brethren are taken to work till they die.” Hephaestion pointed at the Hearthwardens. A faint smile escaped him when his eyes met Hearthdale’s Hearthwarden.
The Hearthwardens whispered among themselves, but none interrupted Hephaestion’s speech when he decided to continue. “The prisoners have not given up on the fight. A resistance has been formed in Initium Keep and they await the day when their people would need them, to sacrifice themselves so that no other would suffer their fate.
“Regardless of what choice you decide on, to move the army in a defensive position to stop future Scyld attacks, or to march on Scyldur and defeat the oppressor’s on their own land, we will continue with our mission and we will take action to free your brethren.”
“And so will the Highborn,” King Ragnar shouted. He held himself tall, standing with a straight back and showing the armor Thalia had crafted him. No longer were the highborn clad in cloth and furs, they had heavy steel armor and sharp steel weapons, all masterwork.
Salamis Stoth, the Hearthwarden of Forhaven, stood apart from the others by taking a few steps forward, closer to Ganis, and said. “The Enkashar of Forhaven will gladly join your fight. A man from Initium Keep sought me out before traveling here from Forhaven, before I decided to lead whoever was left in our now-desolate village to Scandur. He said that one of our own, Prometh, if I’m not mistaken, leads the resistance.” He paused for a moment, eyes still fixed on Ganis, and asked, “Is that true?”
“Aye,” Ganis replied with a heavy Forhavener accent. Her tongue seemed to adjust to her
addressor’s speech without effort. “Prometh and I shared many troubles back in Initium Keep, and I promised him to come back one day, or at least give them a fighting chance.”
“Then you have earned our gratitude twice, if not more.” Salamis Stoth returned to his place among the other Hearthwardens.
“I do not wish to have your decisions forced upon the Enkashar,” Hephaestion continued. “If any of them object on joining the fight and marching onto Scyldur, please do not force them into the act.”
“No one will be forced,” King Ragnar roared. It was a shocking statement to be made from a Highborn, a man who had lived his entire life ruled and ruling by coercion, but that was another time, before the Excelsis Dignus came with Eos and showed them the error in their ways.
“Not into marching, nor into imprisonment,” Hephaestion added. “We will march onto Scyldur when we know enough about the city and its people to ensure a swift victory. It is common in battle for unnecessary blood to be spilled just out of haste or ignorance.” He paused for a moment, looking at the curious faces of the Hearthwardens unaccustomed to the ways of war. “This will not be a mistake we will make.”
“And when will that be?” a Hearthwarden asked. He was older than the others, bearing the mark of many experiences by the manner he spoke and carried himself, but equally estranged to war and fighting.
“Honorable Hearthwarden, this is not a question we should ask now. All we need to worry about is being prepared. And prepared we shall be.”
5
The plan had been set in motion. The Enkashar were preparing for a journey. They would hold a defensive position by the borders between Scyldur and the Midland villages, in an effort to insure that no other catastrophe such as Hearthdale’s or the other unfortunate looted villages would occur.
While the others waited for their captain, Thalia worked on decorating a wooden mask she had carved from a fallen branch of a tree within Monolos’ training ground. The mask had strange etchings all around.
Book of Kayal: Strength of Unity Page 20