Book of Kayal: Strength of Unity

by Stryker Nileson

  The winds gently blew Ganis’ braided yellow hair away from his face. Ever since his transformation he wore it differently, shorter and more contained. The Scylds had little taste for long hair on men, and they would generally comment on it if the man was not strong of character or intimidating. They were a judgmental people too grounded by tradition to embrace difference.

  Excelsis Dignus, Eos projected. Initium Keep awaits you, and so does the resistance. It will be prudent to avoid them for now and focus on what can be done about the Scyld guards themselves.

  Ganis looked over his shoulders - first to the right – as if concerned of having his thoughts overheard by the Scylds. There were no prisoners rowing on the ferry, just a few guards who stacked their weapons by their feet while they grabbed the thick oars and rowed the small vessel across Extoris Channel.

  I am conflicted, Eos. My duties take me away from Initium Keep and back to Scyldur, and my mind dwells on reuniting with the Parthans as does my heart. He lowered his head shaking it in disappointment. It is a strange thing to have to get far from Naa’tas before I can get close.

  The Scyld duties did take its toll on the Ona, Eos projected. Sigurd is now by Naa’tas’ side and Monolos has been sent once more to the hinterlands. And now you have been separated too. It will only get worse before the opportunity presents itself.

  Tell me, Eos, do you not find it odd that I have been sent to Initium Keep as a commander so soon?

  Flagrum is more powerful than we thought he would be. He heard of what you did to Prodor and certainly his network of spies informed him of the offer Prodor made you. I suspect that if you attempted for his life you would have found him prepared, and perhaps the Ona would have not fared so well.

  Ganis continued to stare into the horizon, watching a small section of the Initium Keep wall grow as they approach. It was a gargantuan structure even by Nosgardian standards. Something feels wrong, Eos. I do not know what it is, but I feel a growing weariness within me.

  Perhaps your return brings back memories of pain and sadness.

  You know what happened to me here in the Pits of Carcer –

  We never spoke of it in detail.

  But you can sense it.

  Eos remained silent in confirmation.

  I certainly harbor resentment to this place, even knowing that my position here now is different. It will take some time for me to gather my thoughts and control my urges. Then I will worry about the resistance and how to reach them. I hope Prometh fares well, and the resistance too.

  2

  Never before had Ganis seen Initium Keep from within, but he had often imagined what it would look like, granting him an image of the keep far from truth.

  Initium Keep, the giant bastion of Scyld effort and dedication to Rayogin, was massive from within and without. The grey stones stood thick and strong, an impenetrable fortress, and its lands stripped from all life save for that of the prisoners – albeit it was but a feint glimmer of life which still remained in them.

  The craft was crude, wood and stone alike, but it stood firm and grounded. There were no decorations to mask the ugliness of the walls; carpets to cover the naked floors; or curtains to protect the dwellers from the harsh cold. A hearth was placed in every chamber and every hall, but none were lit when Ganis arrived. Only the size of Initium Keep made it impressive.

  An occasional bare iron beam, meant for a purpose it never fulfilled, would meet Ganis and he would simply cross it wearily, confused about its unfitting presence. “Why is this here?” Ganis asked one of the guards escorting him to his new quarters.

  The guard looked at Ganis, fear seeping through his eyes and sweat from his forehead, and responded with nothing but a weary shrug.

  “Do you speak, soldier?” Ganis asked him, rekindling the condescending tone he used in his Peacekeeper days, when he was far less amicable.

  “Yes, commander.” The guard shook and so did his voice. He held his pike high, resting it on the ground with each step, like a third leg that helped him walk.

  “Then I suggest you use it when answering me.” Ganis paused for a moment, looking ahead of him and scanning the route to his quarters. “Why was this discarded iron beam there?”

  “I don’t know, commander. The prisoners often leave such things behind when they finish with a section. Perhaps later they would salvage it if they still find a use for it.”

  “How long was it there?”

  “Since my arrival, commander.” The guard lifted one of his hands and started mumbling while using his fingers to count. “Two crescents away, commander.”

  Ganis reached a large hall with but a single round table at its midst and two dozen chairs scattered around it, some tucked and some allowed to remain chaotically placed.

  “What’s this hall called?” Ganis asked, he gestured towards the same guard who has been answering his questions, just tilting his head towards him with no intention of spending the effort to turn around and look him in the eye.

  “It’s the Heart of the Keep, commander.”

  Ganis hummed and nodded. “Go summon the officers. The quarters can wait.”

  The guard saluted Ganis and rushed away, clumsily running with his burdensome pike and oversized leather armor. A closer look at him revealed him to be but a young boy, barely old enough to hold a pitchfork let alone a pike.

  The other guard remained standing, staring catatonically ahead of him fearing gaining Ganis’ attention, but failing to avoid it.

  “You,” Ganis said, pointing at the guard. “What’s your name?”

  “Twityo, commander.” He began sweating profusely, and held his pike with both hands, poorly hiding his anxiety.

  “Tell me, Twityo, do I intimidate you?”

  Twityo looked at Ganis, sweating even more and breaking into a stronger shake. He tried to speak but no words came and chose to nod instead: Yes.

  “Why?” Ganis started circling the man, perhaps just a bit older than the other guard sent to summon the officers.

  He swallowed, and started to say, stuttering, “We heard stories, commander, of what you did to Prodor.”

  “And what were these stories?”

  Twityo swallowed again, producing a loud noise that nearly made Ganis break into an uncontrollable laughter. Some part of him enjoyed tormenting the young Scyld, the larger part. “We heard that you hunted the man down and killed his entire family just for not liking his accent.”

  “Does this scare you?” Ganis, now behind the guard and breathing on his exposed neck, whispered.

  The guard nodded, breaking into a sudden, short-lasted whine.

  “Tell me, Twityo, where was Prodor’s accent from?” Ganis completely circled the man and was now standing right in front of him, close enough to his face to smell his foul breath.

  “Sacred Stove District, commander.”

  “I see. And where are you from, Twityo.”

  The guard swallowed, mouth shaking as he said the words, “Sacred Stove District.”

  It was too much for Ganis to bear, and he cracked a smile, turning around and walking away from the guard to hide whatever laughter escaped him. When he reached the table he had regained control and said, “Just don’t be talking like them, or I will send you to work on the walls, and I don’t mean to suggest you will be guarding them.” Ganis waved his hand dismissively. “Leave me.”

  Twityo rushed at the command, hasting away towards the first door he saw nearest to him and furthest from Ganis. He disappeared behind a thick wooden iron-reinforced door, slamming it shut behind him even though it was opened before he used it.

  The officers trickled into the Heart of the Keep, each coming in silently and standing by the entrance, none interrupting Ganis from his contemplative stare at the working prisoners from the largest window in the hall. He stood erect with his red-trimmed grey cloak falling freely from his shoulders and covering his red masterwork armor. Only Eos’ sheath evaded the cover of the cloak, and insisted on making its presence no
ticed.

  After the movement subsided, Ganis turned around and asked, “Are there any officers missing?” He walked casually towards the table and took a seat, gesturing for the others to find their own.

  “We’re all here, commander,” an older man said. He was the first to take a seat, a test to Ganis’ reaction towards his comfort in Ganis’ presence. The others, all wearing the same black leather and iron Scyld uniform indicating them to be officers only by their grey cloaks and sheathed swords, followed when they saw no harm befalling the aged officer.

  “What is your name?” Ganis asked, producing his pipe and preparing it.

  “I be Captain Vetus, commander.”

  “From Sacred Stove District?”

  “I be from there, commander.” Vetus raised his hands and placed them on the table, revealing a large golden ring on his little finger.

  Ganis continued to acquaint himself with the other officers; from Sacred Stove District, Sanctified Ram District, Devout Follower District, Faithful Fisherman District, and many more of the smaller districts in Scyldur. It was clear to Ganis that Vetus had significant influence among the other officers, perhaps even rivaling Ganis’. The man would need to be tamed for Ganis to be safe to do as he pleased and avoid suspicion.

  When the officers were finished with the introductions, Ganis dismissed them. He found what he was looking for, his rival, and it was time to find his quarters, but none of his two original guards were to be found, and he was left to roam Initium Keep alone, a privilege he thought would be unattainable.

  3

  Over the next moons Ganis kept a watchful eye on the officers. He started to gain his own group of loyalists, mostly from the lower ranks, by showing them kindness where cruelty was expected. It was an easy task to convince the Scylds, a simple people, of his worth.

  The real hindrance to Ganis was Vetus. The captain managed to form a small coalition within Initium Keep to support him, granting him the ability to perform tasks even the former commander was incapable of doing. He was the hidden authority behind Initium Keep, and Ganis was simply intended to be the figurehead.

  Some of the other officers showed no particular allegiance to him, but followed the chain of command which led them to seem to Ganis like his followers while they simply performed their duties – true loyalties hidden. Whenever Ganis decided to examine the work of Initium Keep, he would be followed by a retune of guards.

  The prisoners would eye him cautiously as he walked among them, expressions Ganis did not remember from his earlier visit. The resistance, it seemed to Ganis, had changed the prisoners, made them more defiant.

  “Tell me, Twityo,” Ganis said, examining one of the latest completed sections of the wall, “what do you think of Captain Vetus?”

  “He’s a man of authority, commander.” Twityo had grown accustomed to Ganis, even liking him as a commanding officer, and his honesty and diligence gained him a portion of Ganis’ trust.

  Ganis eyed the sturdy wall, noticing the irregularities of Scyld architecture. He judged it to be a difficult wall to breach without siege weapons, and hoped that there would be no need for such feat. “Is he a faithful servant of Rayogin?”

  Twityo looked around, finding himself surrounded by many faces of Scylds he did not know well enough to confine in them. “Aye, commander, he be a faithful servant of Rayogin.” As Ganis instructed him, Twityo reverted back to his native accent whenever he intended to give an answer that contradicted his real thoughts yet was too dangerous to utter in the presence of untrustworthy Scylds.

  “I see.” Ganis took a moment of silence, touching the grey stones and feeling their sturdiness. “Considering that there was no real commander to the forces of Initium Keep for some time, he carried his duties well. He is a capable man and a fine officer.”

  Some of the Scyld guards accompanying Ganis seemed to be paying more attention than they should to such idle talk. They were, Ganis thought, loyalists to Vetus.

  The previous commander of Initium Keep was assassinated and a prisoner was deemed the doer of the deed and publicly hanged at the very center of the construction site, a demonstration to the other prisoners.

  There were many among the guards that suspected Vetus to be behind the murder, and many more who - Ganis was certain - knew for a fact of his intention to usurp command. Vetus expected to be next in line for command, but Flagrum’s meddling – a show of gratitude to his rival’s killer – made it impossible.

  Vetus held a grudge, it was clear in the way he spoke and carried himself in Ganis’ presence, against the new commander, and he would undoubtedly try for his life as he did for his predecessor’s.

  Ganis, and his retinue, continued towards the quarry casually, pretending to not know where he intended to go. His arrival at the clearing - where one of the Scyld officers he recognized from his introduction a few moons ago exchanged wooden coins for quarried stone – was marked by a brief halt in work and gained him a few glances from the prisoners and guards. They were not content with his presence.

  Looking around, scanning the area and comparing it to his memory, Ganis noticed a few piled corpses in the side. At least they were set aside, he thought. He approached the officer distributing the coins and said, “Captain Esca, Rayogin be with you.” Ganis’ time in Scyldur acquainted him with the common expressions.

  “And may He be with you, commander,” Esca responded without even raising his eyes to meet Ganis’, keeping them on the quarried stone slab he examined.

  “What are you doing here?” Ganis asked, purposefully walking in Esca’s line of sight, making it impossible for the Scyld to avoid eye contact.

  “Seeing to my duties.” He brushed past Ganis.

  “Cease them at once!” Ganis shouted, irritated by the man’s insubordination. “When your commander speaks to you, you’re to give him your utmost attention, captain.”

  Esca looked back at Ganis, eyes raging and breath deepening. “Or what?”

  Ganis took a deep breath, calmly. “Guards! Clear this table and pin Captain Esca to it.” He pointed at the table with the open chest filled with wooden coins resting atop it. No guard moved at the command. Ganis rested his hand on Eos and said, “Will I have to repeat myself?”

  Esca laughed at the Ganis’ humiliation, and Twityo rushed to do as Ganis commanded. A few guards stood between Esca and him, blocking his path with maces unsheathed and ready.

  Eos flashed and two of the guards threatening Twityo fell. The others backed away and allowed him passage, but Twityo alone could not pin Captain Esca to the table.

  “I’ll give you all one more chance to do as I command or face my blade.” Ganis raised Eos towards Esca, pointing at the man with the tip of the Progenitor Blade.

  The other guards rushed to do as he commanded, roughly handling Esca and pinning him to the table, casting the chest aside with little regard to the wooden coins that freely fell. Esca struggled and shouted as he helplessly found his face rubbing against the wood.

  “Pull his sword arm away and hold it.” Ganis commanded. The guards obliged immediately, earning them curses from the helpless captain.

  And Eos fell on the man’s wrist, splitting his hand from the rest of him. Esca was released, screaming in agony and holding his bleeding arm in shock. The prisoners stood still and watched with delight as the officer screamed and twisted with pain.

  Ganis turned away from the tormented officer and produced a cloth which he always had tucked into his belt, cleaning Eos before sheathing. “Remember how kind I was to repeat myself,” Ganis said coldly and calmly, “because next time I’ll claim the head of anyone who opposes my command, or even hint any hesitation at acting it out.”

  The guards stood petrified. They listened intently, completely ignoring Esca, and had their undivided attention fixed on Ganis.

  “You three!” Ganis looked at the Scylds who blocked Twityo when he attempted for Esca. “Beat this man and throw him by the pile of corpses over there when you are finished.
” Ganis turned around and made for Initium Keep. “The rest of you follow me.”

  The retinue followed Ganis, leaving the wooden coins unattended; too afraid of Ganis’ reaction to having it brought up to his attention.

  4

  “I hear Captain Esca is dead,” Vetus said while entering the Heart of the Keep. His tone was commanding, but it did not shake Ganis, or even earn him Ganis’ immediate attention.

  Ganis continued with his pipe’s preparation, calmly and with no intention to hasten the tedious process. When it was well stuffed with the last of Ninazu’s mix, he lit it, puffed it twice, and said, “Him and two guards.”

  Vetus eased into one of the chairs on the other side of the table to Ganis, it was a practical choice considering the entrance he chose to appear from. “Was it necessary?” He raised his hands on the table, slowly clutching them together in an effortless gesture.

  “Are you asking me to justify my actions, captain?”

  Vetus laughed and shook his head mockingly. “I intend no such offence, commander, just to offer my elderly advice.”

  “I see.” Ganis eased into his chair, pushing it away to comfortably place his left foot on the table, hoping it would be interpreted by Vetus as a gesture of disrespect. “You should be more careful of how you express yourself, Vetus. I tend to overreact.”

  “Is that what you did with Captain Esca?”

  Ganis shook his head. “I will not tolerate insubordination, regardless of the source or consequences.”

  Vetus leaned in, pushing his hands further on the table and leaning on his elbows. His grey eyes stared straight into Ganis’ black eyes. “Your predecessor was assassinated in his sleep. There is no reason to assume that you are immune to such unfortunate plots, even with the blessing of a man such as Flagrum.”