Book of Kayal: Strength of Unity

by Stryker Nileson

  What makes you say so?

  The Book of Rayogin. Writing it in a language none can read other than the Priests of Rayogin. It is simply a ruse to assure that none will arise from outside their organization and challenge their interpretation.

  And you have done this before with the Highborn?

  I made certain that some things would remain hidden from them; things that I was not certain would help me accomplish that which I sought to accomplish. It is why I was unchallenged for so long, and it is why you were unchallenged.

  We must change this.

  I agree, but I do not know what the consequences could be.

  I do, Eos. Nosgard has gone through many dark ages, and it was always because a single group had absolute power - and, as Lord Asclepius taught me, the epitome of power is knowledge. When the Demigod Emperor Servak defeated the Council, he reestablished the Parthan School of Knowledge and assigned them the task of spreading knowledge throughout the Empire. He revived many orders, such as the Peacekeeper Core and the rulers of the kingdoms of Nosgard, giving them autonomy from the Empire as long as they acted in the interest of the common folk—

  A strong balance, Eos interrupted. Your Emperor is wise.

  Indeed he is. Now if anyone, including the Emperor himself, would defy the interests of Nosgard, there are many who could rise to oppose them.

  “That was close,” Hephaestion said, putting an abrupt end to Eos’ projection to Ganis.

  The Devout Servant’s loud music and drunken patrons greeted the two Parthans back to their home.

  “This will not do,” Hephaestion continued. “We will be needing more private quarters.”

  Ganis nodded and they both entered.

  7

  “So you mean to tell me that three times a day I have to go to this Monastery and pray to a god that does not exist?” Rein retorted. He spoke with a low voice, leaning towards the Parthans sitting on their table within the tavern under The Devout Servant, but his angry tone was not any less revealed.

  “It is as it is,” Hephaestion said. He took a puff from his pipe, dismissing Rein’s tone.

  “Pax will punish us.”

  “Pax has nothing to do with it,” Ganis said, earning him a hostile stare from the others. “And if he does,” Ganis continued, “then he would see that through our actions we follow his path to the letter.”

  “Please, oh wise one,” Rein said angrily, “explain to us how this is. I’m certain that your knowledge of Pax and his path far exceeds ours.” His eyes grew red and his face was made ugly by spite.

  “We’re here to rid the Scylds of Naa’tas and their false god, Rayogin. Both lead them to the path of destruction. By showing the error in their ways the result would certainly help spread peace and the word of Pax.”

  “Ganis speaks true,” Sigurd said.

  Frustrated by the reason behind Ganis’ argument, and by Sigurd’s support of it, Rein retreated into his chair, burning steam in silence.

  “The other option would be to remain indoors,” Hephaestion continued. “We need to make certain that we prepare a shrine to Rayogin to counter any suspicion of our disbelief. As long as we do not venture out during the time of prayer we will be absolved of any accusations.”

  “And if we’re on guard?” Percival asked.

  “Then you are on guard. It is the only acceptable reason for not attending the ceremony or privately conducting the ritual.” Hephaestion looked at Rein and said, “If you cannot act as a devout servant of Rayogin, then it would be best you return south.”

  Rein looked back at him with contempt. Before answering he dropped his hand into one of his pockets and caressed the hidden figurine inside, returning him to some measure of reason. “I can do it. We will need our full force if we hope to face Naa’tas and defeat him.”

  Hephaestion nodded while inhaling from his pipe, a gesture that made Ganis reach to her own pipe and prepare it.

  “There is one more thing,” Hephaestion said. “It seems that our stay here will be longer than we expected it to be, and it will be necessary for us to find more private quarters.”

  “I’ll look into it,” Percival said. “It shouldn’t be difficult, but it might be costly.”

  “What of the war?” Monolos asked. “Glowleaf has been reporting an escalation in violence between the Southern Alliance and the Scylds. I expect it to erupt into a real war quite soon.”

  “Where we are now,” Hephaestion said, resting his finished pipe on the thick wooden table and replacing it with his mug, “there is little we can do to help the Southern Alliance in a more direct manner. We will stay here and direct our thoughts towards Naa’tas and the infiltration of Scyldur.”

  Ganis puffed on his pipe, replacing Hephaestion’s role in filling the room with smoke, a habit the waitresses and other patrons had grown accustomed to – some of them even picked it up themselves and started smoking their own pipes with their own mixtures.

  “The resistance of Initium Keep,” Ganis said, “should be contacted to coordinate our efforts.”

  “Glowleaf tells me that they have already established communication,” Monolos said. He petted the Watcher sitting by his feet, another habit the patrons and waitresses had grown accustomed to. “The Southern Alliance and the resistance of Initium Keep are likely more aligned with one another than we are with either of them.”

  “What is it, captain?” Ganis asked of Hephaestion, noticing his concern and thoughtfulness.

  “The closer we get to Naa’tas the further he seems to be. I just wonder when it will end.”

  Soon, Ganis thought. It will end soon.

  8

  “What do you think?” Percival asked. The Parthans were standing in the entrance of their new dwelling. It cost them most of the oboi they had, but it would not be a problem now that they worked for the Scylds.

  It was a large, two-tiered dwelling with plenty of room for the Parthans, yet - other than twelve beds and a large wooden table - it was bare.

  Hephaestion walked in the atrium, going back and forth as he eyed the structure intently. The wooden floor creaked under his feet whenever he strayed too far from the walls. “It seems a little unnecessary, Percival. We could have done with something far smaller.” He looked at him, “It also seems I was mistaken about Drain. This endeavor made you our most expensive companions as of now.”

  “What good is coin if you can’t indulge?” Percival said lightly, gesturing with his arms at the structure. “It’s an investment, Hephaestion.”

  “An investment! It will be left behind once we are done with our mission here in Utyirth. The only investment we need is in weapons and food, and we have both.” He turned around to head to the second tier. “Anyway, it is of no consequence.”

  “The first thing we need to make is a shrine,” Rein said, surprising the others. “It would be inconvenient if after all the work we did the Scylds would run us out.”

  “Indeed,” Sigurd said. The others had grown somewhat accustomed to his new habit, speaking, but it was still a surprise at times, especially when he uttered more than a few words.

  “We still need furnishing.” Ninazu looked around. “An alchemical lab, some drawers, some shelves, a few tables and chairs.” He continued looking around and sizing the structure from where he stood. “Please be certain to get the lab first.”

  Percival nodded. “I’ll need a list of everything you need me to buy.”

  “Perhaps it would be cheaper to make some of the necessities,” Thalus said, his tone carrying the excitement of having an opportunity to craft something after such a long time of idleness. “Besides, I can’t expect that our duties will consume too much time yet. They will undoubtedly have us under careful watch, even with Flagrum’s friendship.”

  “Well,” Percival said, “Drain and I will head to the guardhouse now. I expect to have a list of purchases when I get back.”

  The twins departed, leaving the others with much to think about.

  Chapte
r 13: Like Wolves amidst Sheep

  ‘It is a strange feeling when you pretend to be someone else, for your real identity often conflicts with the one which you temporarily embrace. This is a trap that all successful infiltrators must step in and overcome.’ Philosophical Lessons from Utyirth (Volume III: Second).

  1

  The dispersion of the Parthans within Scyldur was indubitable, and Hephaestion based his plan, a title he refused to admit, upon its inevitability, but they always returned to their residence when their duties permitted them to – which they named Pertinax Dwelling in honor of their fallen captain.

  “They simply do not acknowledge the arts,” Thalus said as he sat on one of the wooden chairs he made in the common area. Pertinax Dwelling had become full with his craft, except for Ninazu’s workbench, which the Turian insisted on making himself.

  “Ease your anger with some of my fine ale,” Percival offered a mug of ale to Thalus. He dedicated a small room in the basement to brew his own mixture, a foul tasting drink that he insisted on drinking.

  In the heat of the argument Thalus grabbed the mug and took a big gulp, grimacing once he lowered the drink and swallowed. “It also seems that Percival has picked up the same attitude to the arts,” he said, looking at Percival as the room burst in laughter. “Dear friend, this ale of yours is horrendous.”

  “It’ll get better in time,” Percival said, taking a sip and suppressing the frown it provoked.

  Drain approached his twin and peaked into his mug and at his brown drink from over his shoulder, tiptoeing. “You can torture yourself as much as you want, but please spare us and stock some ale from the local tavern.”

  Hephaestion sat on his chair, a specifically requested piece of furniture from Thalus to match his proportions perfectly, and puffed on his pipe. “Does anyone have anything unusual to report?”

  The Parthans shook their heads.

  “This might take longer than I though.”

  “It has only been one moon, captain, and we have no cause to rush,” Monolos said. “Right, Glowleaf?”

  Glowleaf was resting in the corner in a half-curl. Upon hearing his name he stood and approached the Parthans, stopping when he was beside Monolos. “I cannot say for certain if there is a cause to rush, and I believe you are referring to the lack of external causes to rush the mission due to the Southern Alliance. Am I correct, Second?” He eyed Monolos with a canine expression.

  Monolos nodded.

  “The Southern Alliance and the Scylds have not yet engaged in battle, and it seems that neither force is willing to initiate the war. The tensions have eased significantly since our arrival.”

  “Still,” Hephaestion said, “we should not rely on the situation to remain as it is.” He took a deep breath, holding his pipe idly by the side of his chair, and continued, “It is not unusual for matters to escalate quickly. Once the war begins we will have very little time to act.”

  “It might be all we need,” Thalus said, “to have Naa’tas appear.” He looked around; twisting a thin piece of wood he had been carrying around between his fingers. “Has anyone heard anything of Naa’tas since our arrival?”

  No one responded.

  “Then how do we know he is even here?”

  Silence prevailed for a moment. Ganis thought about how possible it was for Naa’tas to lead them so far from the Southern Alliance, convincing them that they were getting closer to him by immersing themselves in Scyldur.

  “Naa’tas is here,” Hephaestion said. “I have no evidence other than my trust in his arrogance. He does not fear us and wants us to know it. I would not be surprised if he dismisses us as a threat entirely.” He raised his pipe and inhaled through it. The fires went out but he enjoyed the taste of scented air regardless.

  “There is no way you can know that for certain,” Thalus said. He stopped twisting his wooden stick and held it by his eyes, turning it around as he scanned it.

  “Think about it for a moment,” Hephaestion said. “If Naa’tas wanted to hide from us, he would not have shown himself to Ganis when she first came in Scyldur.” He lowered the pipe. “I was there and I remember how outnumbered we were. There was no need for his involvement.”

  Ganis nodded. “He really doesn’t fear us. He has no need.”

  “He thinks he has no need to fear us,” Percival corrected. “But he should.”

  “The only people in Utyirth who support him are the Scylds,” Hephaestion said. “He is repeating the same pattern as that of the Cult of Naa’tas, surrounding himself with those who are dissatisfied enough with their condition and desperate enough to believe his empty promises.”

  “I still think we shouldn’t assume that he is in Scyldur,” Thalus said.

  “You are right. We should investigate his whereabouts and find where he is for certain.” Hephaestion paused for a moment and raised his pipe to eye level. “But until we find definitive evidence about his non-presence, we will proceed as if he is in Scyldur."

  2

  “It is a beautiful night,” Hephaestion said, approaching Ganis atop the roof of Pertinax Dwelling. A small section of it had been turned into a balcony by Thalus, enough to have three standing comfortably within it.

  Ganis watched the full moon, wondering how it never changed no matter where he was. The moon itself would go into cycles of disappearing and appearing, but they were always the same cycles, always the same time. “Indeed it is.”

  Hephaestion looked at the moon for some time and lowered his gaze to watch the dark streets of Scyldur, when he had his share of moon, lit by the occasional torch of a passing night guardsman. The moonlit streets were clear to him with his enhanced eyes, a privilege many Parthan runebearers had.

  His eyes followed the guard casually strolling around the street, taking his duties far lighter than he should, especially since the city had at least nine foes plotting its fall. An irony, he thought, that is only known to a handful.

  “Thalus was right,” Ganis said. He kept his eyes fixed on the moon.

  Hephaestion tried to look back, failing to find anything of interest, but he remembered that Ganis had the Dark Gift, and its powers became stronger when the sun slept. He remembered hearing that the level of detail Ganis’ eyes could see, by virtue of the Dark Gift, far exceeded his own. He returned to watch the slow guard. “About what?”

  “Naa’tas not being here.”

  “Do you know for certain if he is not here?”

  “Nay. Eos cannot sense his presence, but again he only could just a few moments before I could. I remember it now, from the time I fought him.”

  “You did not have Eos with you at the time.” The guard had gone into a corner and behind a house. Hephaestion had nothing else to observe, until one of the many windows they could see was lit by candlelight. A woman sat by it and started knitting. He watched her work.

  “I sensed something before we parted, and it made me separate from you in an attempt to draw whatever I sensed away. Naa’tas was close then, and I suspect he was watching me before we fought. He might be confident in his abilities, but he wasn’t confident enough to face me untested.”

  “Then he can be killed, and by a Nosgardian.”

  “Death is not the only thing to fear. Some fates are far worse.”

  Hephaestion nodded. The woman in the window took note of him, smiled, and returned to her knitting. “I am growing old, Ganis.”

  It was the first time since Hephaestion’s appearance that Ganis cast his eyes away from the moon, and it was for a brief moment before speaking. “What makes you say this?”

  “Today there was a batch of new recruits. We had them demonstrate their endurance, and the results were disappointing.” Before Ganis had a chance to ask why, he broke his pause and continued, “They were but a little bit worse than I, and I am a Parthan Protector, given a gift of enhancement. I do not know if I will still be strong enough to contribute to the fight against Naa’tas. It worries me.”

  “I trust in you, c
aptain, and I’ll certainly feel more confident if I fight by your side. The young recruits you speak of might be comparable to you in brute strength, speed and endurance, but many lifetimes of training, by Scyld standards, will be necessary before they be comparable to you in skill.”

  Hephaestion smiled, it was a forced smile, and said, “You should get some rest.”

  “I’m not the one complaining about getting old. Perhaps it’s you who should get some rest.”

  Hephaestion gently tapped Ganis’ shoulder, which had grown muscular with Ninazu’s treatment, and brushed past him.

  3

  “I have been reassigned.” Sigurd said. He entered Pertinax Dwelling and sat on one of Thalus’ chairs, grazing the wood with his armor and producing a terrible screech.

  Thalus winced at the noise and started contemplating how to protect the chairs from Sigurd. He had already crushed three chairs entirely and damaged seven, of which two were beyond repair.

  “Where to?” Percival asked. He was seated in a corner, fixing a string to a bow he had just finished. The wood was dark with a reddish hue; a result from an oil treatment he insisted made the wood smoother, in spite of Thalus’ and Ninazu’s suggestions against it.

  “To the Holy Guards.” Sigurd eased into his chair, punishing it even further.

  “What do they do?” Percival asked.

  “They are responsible for the safety of priests and religious figures,” Drain said after he entered the common room. He continued to open a cupboard by Percival, revealing a collection of spirits, and poured himself a drink in a glass cup. “It gets him closer to Naa’tas, if he is indeed in Scyldur.”

  “Do you have any evidence against it?” Hephaestion asked. He tilted his head up, gazing straight into Drain’s eyes and said, “Or is it merely speculation?”