Book of Kayal: Strength of Unity

by Stryker Nileson

  “Do you think he will ever leave?”

  So Naa’tas is here.

  “We cannot count on it.”

  “Who be you?” a voice came from behind Ganis.

  Ganis looked behind him and saw a large man hulking over him. He had a morningstar in hand, casually resting on his muscular right shoulder. The man wore more scars than fresh skin, and his arms were completely naked, giving him an intimidating look.

  “Just a stray Scyld,” Ganis said. He stood up slowly, raising his hands above his head in hoped of showing his intent on non-violence.

  He pushed Ganis out from the behind the crate, exposing him to Prodor and Prosidor, the slave traders. They looked at Ganis, surprised by the intrusion, and nodded at the brute for a job well done.

  Prodor gestured at the brute and said, “Good job Rudis.” He turned his attention to Ganis. “Now who the depths be you?”

  “As I told Rudis here, I am just a stray Scyld.” Ganis gestured at the brute.

  “Your armor be telling another story.” Prodor eyed him head to toe. He paused for a moment, smile cracking, and said, “You be one of Flagrum’s new mercenaries!” He threw his head back and burst in an obnoxious laughter.

  “Aye.” Ganis remained calm, contemplating when to strike at the men.

  “What be your name?”

  “Gains of Midland.” Eyes were fixed and posture straight.

  “And I Prodor.” He offered his hand to Ganis, and he took it, shaking it until Prodor withdrew it. “This be Prosidor, my business partner, and this be Rudis, our insurance.” He chuckled at his own joke, Prosidor and Rudis joining him.

  “Now, you be looking like a reasonable man, Ganis of Midland,” Prodor said. “How be it to your ears for a deal between you and I?” He raised his right hand and rubbed his thumb with his index finger - oboi.

  “Depends on the deal.”

  Prodor laughed wickedly. “I be liking you already, little man. Perhaps we can have a better arrangement than the one you have with that cur Flagrum.”

  Ganis nodded. “Let me hear it, then.”

  “Three moons from now, coming and going, Flagrum be found dead. If this be the case, then we be in business. Sounds good?”

  “And if he remains alive?”

  “Then Rudis be let loose.” Prodor pointed at the brute who responded by squeezing on the handle of his morningstar, making it squeak under the enormous pressure.

  “One way or the other, I will see you three moons from now, Prodor. You will have your answer then.”

  Prodor smiled. “We be meeting in three moons then.”

  7

  When Ganis returned there was no one in Pertinax Dwelling other than Thalus, working on repairing the last of the furniture Sigurd had wrecked; a bench kept in the kitchen. “You seem to be in a rush,” Thalus said.

  “Naa’tas is here,” Ganis said, taking deep breaths to recover from the run back.

  Thalus slowly dropped the sandpaper he was using and leaned down on the bench, both feet tucked under it while his elbows rested on it. “Have you seen him?”

  “Not seen him, but spoke to some slave traders who know of his whereabouts.” Ganis picked a stool and placed it opposing Thalus’ bench, sitting on it with his legs firmly rooted in the ground and his elbows resting on them. He looked up at Thalus and said, “Where are the others?”

  “With your schedule,” Thalus said, pointing at Ganis, “it’s difficult to catch them.”

  “Well, I need to tell someone. I suppose you’ll have to do.”

  Thalus was pushed back by the offence, but had no time to retort.

  “During my watch I came across a whisper…” Ganis recited his story to Thalus, telling him of Prodor’s offer to assassinate Flagrum in exchange for a cut of his shares, and of how he came to know of Naa’tas’ presence in Scyldur. “…and now I’d like to know which ally would prove more helpful to our mission.”

  Thalus hummed and as he was about to answer, the door slammed. From the sound of the steps, Ganis knew it was Hephaestion – no one quite walked like him, somehow between a subtle sneak and a casual walk.

  “Captain,” Ganis called. When Hephaestion appeared, eyebrows raised in curiosity, Ganis repeated his story. Hephaestion listened intently, taking the opportunity of his silence to prepare the pipe and ready it for a smoke. By the time Ganis had concluded, he was already halfway done with his pipe, considering another refill.

  “What should we do?” Ganis asked.

  “We invested too much time with Flagrum to gain his trust. It will be foolish to betray him now, when we have gone too far, even if the slave trader—”

  “Prodor,” Ganis interrupted.

  “Even if Prodor and his folk,” Hephaestion continued, “actively fight Naa’tas. Your discovery bodes well, Ganis, no matter the choice you intend to make.”

  “The choice I intend to make?” Ganis asked curiously. “Is it not your choice, as our captain?”

  “This choice is yours, Ganis, and I trust you will make the right one. I see good and bad in both paths, and I am inclined to continue our relationship with Flagrum, but I cannot tell for certain which is most beneficial to our mission, and I suspect that it will not matter much.”

  “I would side with Flagrum,” said Thalia, convincingly and determined. “At least we know more about him that Prodor. And it seems to me that Flagrum has enough influence to deter Prodor’s business, which speaks to me of his usefulness.

  Glowleaf suddenly appeared, his canine paws making him invisible to the ears of the Parthans.

  Ganis noticed his scent, but it was too late for him to avoid surprise. “It took you some time, Watcher.”

  Glowleaf bowed his canine head, saying, “Ninth, I have brought the Sixth’s ingredients.” He looked around the corner and saw Hephaestion and Thalus. He bowed to them, each in turn, and remained silent, awaiting his next command.

  “Good, Glowleaf,” Hephaestion said. “You must be hungry.” He stood up and reached for one of the cupboards above the single window in the kitchen. After fiddling around the contents of the cupboard, he produced a chunk of dried meat and offered it to the Watcher who eagerly took it with his sharp teeth.

  The Parthans gave the Watcher a chance to eat his meat and prepared him a bowl of cold water to quench his thirst and wash down the salted meal.

  When Glowleaf concluded, he sat in his canine manner and looked at Hephaestion, indicating his readiness.

  “What news do you bring from the front?” Hephaestion asked, tucking away his pipe and securing it in the pocket within his cloak.

  “The Enkashar are eager for a fight. They have tested the Scylds on many occasions and grew confident in their ability to defeat them.”

  “A siege isn’t the same as maintaining a fortified defensive position,” Ganis said. “The Enkashar are still too young a force to know how war works.”

  “It is good, for now” Hephaestion said. “We need their morale to be high. It is important that we keep them from attacking too soon, when the Scylds are ready and focused on them. Anything else, Glowleaf?”

  “One more thing, First, about the Hearthwardens.”

  Hephaestion’s expression changed. Suddenly, the Parthan captain was no longer calm and relaxed. Something about mentioning the Hearthwardens troubled him, and Ganis suspected that it was related to Solea, the Hearthwarden of Hearthdale and his secret lover. “What is it?”

  “They are no longer in agreement. There has been talk among their circle about leaving the Southern Alliance. They are conflicted, First. Some want to fight before the Scylds march on them and others prefer to wait for your instructions.”

  Hephaestion eased back into his chair. “It is of no consequence. Let them struggle as long as they want. If we cannot count on their assault, then we can count on their presence at least.”

  The door was shut slammed once more, and two sets of footsteps rushed towards the Parthans. “Captain,” Percival shouted. The twins arrived
before Hephaestion had a chance to respond. They were quick. “It’s Sigurd.”

  Hephaestion tensed. “What about him?”

  “That Turian brute is incredible.” Percival laughed ecstatically, Drain joining him as they shared glances, fueling each other’s laughter.

  “This can’t be bad news,” Ganis said, glancing at Thalus, receiving a response in kind.

  “Naa’tas is here,” Percival said, “and Sigurd has just become his bodyguard.”

  “What!” Hephaestion stood in shock, his chair pushed back and tipped over.

  “Apparently,” Percival caught his breath in a moment’s worth of pause. “Apparently Naa’tas spotted Sigurd while visiting the priests and asked for a demonstration of his skill, pitting two of his own guards against him—”

  “And of course Sigurd showed them the depths,” Drain continued. “They never had a chance.”

  “Can you imagine,” Percival laughed hysterically. “What irony is this?”

  “Do you realize that the most hotheaded of us has been assigned to the person we hate the most, the person we are tasked to kill,” Hephaestion said, pulling the room in an aura of darkness. The laughter stopped and silence prevailed, even breath was halted.

  Their hate towards Naa’tas, Ganis thought, was not a product of their mission or loyalty to the Empire, but a result of Pertinax’s death. Eirene was not the only one to hold a grudge against Naa’tas.

  “Captain, I would worry if it was anyone other than Sigurd. You know how strong he is,” Percival said.

  “He is not as strong as a Protector moroi.” Hephaestion glanced at Ganis, and then returned to Percival. “His ironskin will do him little good against Naa’tas, if he suspects anything from Sigurd.”

  “Hephaestion,” Ganis said. “Things are getting better for us. Everything is falling together in our favor. Glowleaf is back with the required ingredients to sustain the transformation, the Southern Alliance is in good condition and hasn’t yet decided to invade, and Naa’tas, our sworn enemy, is being protected by one of our own.” Ganis paused for a moment. “You see, captain, if Naa’tas needs to be protected, then he can be killed, or at least hurt.”

  8

  Three moons after meeting Prodor, Ganis roamed the streets of Scyldur. The moon was high in the sky, watching over him, a small speck of dust, walking within another small speck of dust, Scyldur.

  From one of the corners, by a baker’s shop called Sacred Bread, Ganis heard some scratching, provoking him to investigate. Once he reached the corner, he found two crouched men rubbing crumpled sheets of paper together. When they saw him approach with his red armor and his regal cape, they smiled, baring their decaying teeth; or whatever remained of them.

  A grunt erupted from behind Ganis. He dodged, evading the blow entirely while turning to face his attacker. It was Rudis with his morningstar. His weapon fell on the cobblestone, breaking some of the paved road and tearing apart some more when the morningstar was pulled free.

  “Come out, cowards!” Ganis shouted, hoping to provoke Prodor and Prosidor out of hiding. He knew that people such as them tended to attend executions, and cruelly revel in them.

  Indeed the two slave traders were there, and provoked to reveal themselves. Prodor clapped. “You be drawing your last breaths now, instead of getting paid.” His face cracked in a wicked smile. “Please, Rudis, do not be minding me.”

  Rudis swung his weapon at Ganis once more only to have it met by a very sharp blade, Eos, which split its handle from the steel, felling the spiked ball on the ground. Rudis was pushed back in shock at the strength his tiny opponent displayed.

  “You see, Prodor,” Ganis said, “you were right to ask who the depths I was. It’s where I come from.” Ganis lunged at Rudis and with one clean swoop separated his head from shoulders. The brute had no chance against such a quick, fierce attack. His body fell limp, on the knees first then the gut, and his head rolled to Prodor’s feet.

  The slave traders wore expressions of fear, and their tongues ceased to function. They were petrified, incapable of doing anything but watch Ganis slowly approach, eyes intent on murder.

  “You should not have done that, cur.” Ganis slowly pierced the man’s dense gut. When Eos was submerged to his hilt, she pulled the blade out slowly, making its way to Prodor’s head, splitting it clean in two, watching the man’s horror as he was consumed by pain and fear.

  Then Prosidor ran, and so did Ganis, ramming the man with his shoulder straight into a protruding spike meant to hold a torch. Prosidor gasped, coughing blood, as he watched in horror the sharp spikes piercing his lungs, draining the little life left in him. Ganis turned around to look at the two men who drew him into the trap, but they were nowhere to be found, yet their scents made them easy to track.

  A strong stench of sweat and dirt drew Ganis to the cowering scoundrels hiding behind some barrels. They too were shown no mercy, and their heads claimed. As Ganis cleansed Eos from the unholy blood of criminals with the rags of a fallen, a guard approached her.

  “Thank you,” the Scyld said. He eyed Ganis with admiration, for by this act he had become a champion of Scyldur.

  “What for?” Ganis stood up and sheathed Eos, the sound of steel rubbing sheath ringing through the night.

  “They were bad men, these two, defilers of Rayogin’s touch.” The guard shook in Ganis’ presence. He knew that he was not in any danger, but the mere thought of what Ganis was capable of, the ease by which he dispatched of the criminals against seemingly impossible odds to him, made the Scyld tremble with fear.

  “Are you a City Guard?”

  “Aye, I’m one.”

  “Then you should be used to this.”

  He shook his head. “I never drew blood before from another man, or woman.” He was a young man, barely of age to marry, clad in the black leather of the Scyld City Guard with rusted iron spikes poking from the front and back of his armor.

  “You look like a good young man, soldier,” Ganis said. “I would advise you to seek a life away from violence, and hope that you will never have to draw blood, in Rayogin’s name or for any other cause. It’s not the only way.” Ganis walked away, continuing his night patrol, leaving the young guard behind to witness the aftermath of his massacre.

  9

  “I have gotten a new assignment,” Ganis sat by Percival’s table in the tavern beneath The Devout Servant, hoping to meet him in private, an unnatural sentiment for Ganis towards the man.

  “Just look at her.” Percival eyed Sua and ignored Ganis’ comment entirely. He watched her dance around the tables like a graceful cat, finding her way through many obstructions in her path. “She’s perfect.”

  Ganis looked at the waitress with little interest and repeated to Percival, “I have gotten a new assignment.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Ganis judged he was only half-listening, incapable of focusing on anything other than his mistress; or love perhaps. “They’re sending me to Initium Keep.” He reached for Percival’s mug just to have it pushed away from him.

  “Give me that,” Ganis said, eyeing the mug thirstily.

  “Not before you tell me exactly how you managed to get assigned to Initium Keep.” Now Percival was focused on Ganis alone, the entire tavern seeming to be of no concern to him.

  “Remember the slave traders I ran into a few moons back?”

  “Hephaestion told me about them. What do they have to do with this?”

  “Everything.” Ganis reached for the mug once more. “I would like some ale, if you don’t mind.”

  Percival pushed the mug towards Ganis and allowed him the drink, waving to Sua for another round. She responded immediately, leaving two clean wooden mugs and a flagon on their table, and rushed to her duties once she made certain that the Parthans needed nothing else.

  “If things were different, I would have encouraged you to stay with her. She is a good woman, decent and smart. She knows when she is needed and when she isn’t.”
<
br />   Percival nodded. “I’m trying to think of a way to keep her safe and convince her to return with me to Nosgard. I haven’t thought of anything yet.” He shook his head and took a sip of ale. “Back to Initium Keep.”

  Ganis nodded and took a sip of ale. It was a far better drink than Percival’s own brew, and perhaps one of the reasons, Ganis thought, he would spend so much time in The Devout Servant’s tavern. “Apparently the City Guard has been suffering at Prodor’s activity for some time now, and they were too afraid of moving against him. When word reached the taskmasters of my deed, they thought it would be fitting that I be sent to Initium Keep.”

  “Yes,” Percival said, nodding, “I have been hearing quite a bit about the problems in Initium Keep. It seems that the resistance has been growing bolder with the wardens there. They still don’t know of the resistance itself, but it won’t be long till they find out about them.”

  Ganis gulped down his ale, stood up and made for the exit. “Good luck with Sua, Percival.”

  Percival raised his mug and continued watching Sua work.

  Chapter 14: Revisiting a Keep

  ‘It is easy to choose between two alternatives when one would directly affect the decision-maker in a positive manner while harming another, and another would directly affect the decision-maker in a negative manner while benefiting another. In this case, the selfish would help him/herself while the selfless would help the other. However, when both choices involve different parties, one must face the inner conflict that would deem one party more worthy of good than the other’ Philosophical Lessons from Utyirth (Volume III: Second).

  1

  Again into exile.

  A ferry took Ganis across the Extoris Channel from Scyldur to Initium Keep. It was a brief voyage, with clear seas and clearer skies guiding them. Winds blew gently and the men were forced to row, Ganis standing above them regally.

  Prodor, the man who had eluded all attempts for capture, was dead by the hands of Ganis, deeming him worthy to be the new Initium Keep Warden Commander, a quick and unexpected advancement to the newcomer. Flagrum’s influence spread far in Scyldur lands; and his gratitude drove it fiercer. Killing Prodor, after all, was the right choice for the Parthans, and no amount of planning would result in the same outcome of Ganis being sent to the heart of the resistance.