Book of Kayal: Strength of Unity

by Stryker Nileson

  “Your steel will not penetrate his scales,” Ganis shouted. He took a deep breath and aimed his extended arm, with palm bare, at the flying dragon, and the shock of Koa, the word of power Ganis had learnt in the Pits of Carcer during his imprisonment, felled him. The dragon dropped violently, crashing into ancient trees and leaving a trail of desolation behind him.

  “Quickly before he takes to the skies again,” Hephaestion shouted as he rushed towards the fallen dragon, leaving the battle to be resolved between the natives of Utyirth.

  6

  With the battle raging behind them, echoing in furthering sounds, the Parthans raced to the forest where their colossal adversary had fallen. All nine Nosgardians ran harmoniously together, step matching step perfectly, forming two rows of hardened warriors.

  Then a step into another world.

  Ganis stood still in Katabasis Keep. She was back in her original form, wearing the black robes of Katabasis and stripped from Eos. She looked around, seeing each stone falling exactly where she remembered, blackened stones with spider webs spun between them wherever two were far enough apart.

  Flickering light of torches gave her sight and revealed the crimson carpets and draperies decorating the endless corridor. She knew exactly where she was in Katabasis Keep, but it appeared that anything beyond the section no longer existed in this version of reality.

  “Ganis, where are we?” a voice uttered. She turned and saw the eight Parthans standing oddly; wearing purple clothes she assumed were their original Parthan attire. None were armed. The Voice was Thalia’s, Ganis recognized. Like herself, the other Parthan women returned to their original form.

  “In Katabasis Keep,” Ganis said. “Though I don’t know how we came here or why.” In spite of her confusion and concern, she was relieved to have the others with her.

  “Because the hour is nigh,” another unrecognizable voice to the Parthans said. It was accompanied by a distant cold shrill, sending a chill up Ganis’ spine, a chill she was certain the others felt. A thin black hooded figure appeared, wearing an outfit much resembling Ganis’, but shrouded by an aura of darkness.

  The mysterious man approached Ganis from the opposite end of the corridor to where the Parthans stood. Whenever he drew closer to one of the torches, its flames would dull to near death, but they slowly returned once he passed.

  “Who are you?” Ganis asked, slightly stepping back in an attempt to distance herself from him. Her legs were suddenly halted, and she found herself helpless against his approach.

  “See for yourself.” He was close enough for Ganis to taste the profound smell of decay emanating from under his robe. He removed his hood, revealing eyes entirely consumed by blackness and a bare scalp with many small warts protruding from it. The revitalization of a nearby torch allowed Ganis a clearer look at the man, turning the warts into small fissures in his skin oozing with pus.

  “You are a Hand of Fate?” Ganis said, yet her tension from the man’s mystique only grew.

  “Demise, to be precise,” the man hissed. He wore a wicked smile matching his wicked face more bone than flesh.

  “Then we have failed?”

  “Not yet.” Demise spoke slowly, like an aged man struggling to find long-forgotten words seldom parted from his withering lips. He circled Ganis slowly, glancing only once at the other Parthans as he watched them stare helplessly. “You have eluded my clutch once, as did your master.”

  “Lord Asclepius?”

  “There are no lords in my realm.” He chuckled mockingly, continuing around Ganis for the second time. “But we speak of the same man.” He pointed a bony finger at Ganis, not touching her robes but having her feel it entirely. It was like the flesh suddenly burnt and froze at once and nearly ripped away from her in an attempt to escape the near-touch of Demise.

  Demise smiled, revealing two rows of pointy black teeth oozing with dark mucus barely avoiding an abrupt escape onto his withered bony chin. “The hour is upon you, and I demand a life from you.”

  “A debt we will pay,” another voice erupted from behind Demise. A tall man, taller than any Highborn Ganis had ever seen, approached from behind Demise, entirely immune to his leeching presence. The torches rekindled with the new visitor’s presence, burning brighter than any torch should; nearly blinding Ganis.

  The man had long brown hair much like a lion’s mane. His beard was thick, but not wild, trimmed to perfection around his sharp jaw. His arms were like thighs and his thighs like waists. He wore no robes, just brown cloth pants and brown fur boots tightly fastened around his massive feet. A thick white fur cloak fell from his shoulders to the back of his knees, leaving his muscular chest entirely exposed.

  “Eos?” Ganis said. The name alone eased the tension among her and the Parthans.

  Standing next to Demise, towering over the scrawny figure, Eos nodded. He shifted his gaze to Demise and said, “Please, Ancient One, accept the debt of a life and collect it another time.”

  Demise seemed unthreatened by Eos, and Ganis sensed a hint of concern emanating from Eos now standing between her and Demise, covering the Hand of Fate entirely from her sight. “You have been a profitable investment, Eos of Utyirth, and one of my best servants.” Demise paused for a moment. “I will grant you this wish and, for now, delay the servitude of the others.” Demise laughed menacingly, disappearing from Ganis’ sight as the echo faded.

  When silence prevailed once more, Eos looked at Hephaestion then again at Ganis, face expressionless and body relaxed. “You were concerned that the Ona was incomplete without Pertinax.” He grunted. “A meaningless concern. Let us see what Naa’tas is made of.”

  And back into the forest, the dragon now in sight. The Parthans halted their hasty advance, looking at one another in search for answers about what they had just experienced. But now was not the time, for the dragon would not wait.

  He snapped at Ganis, nearly catching her cloak between his merciless teeth. Ganis noticed her weight lighten. The transformation was undone, for her and the others too. She had but a moment to gather her thoughts and make sense of Demise’s words, and it was all she needed.

  Eos sang, splitting teeth from mouth once the dragon snapped again. He released a growl at his small loss, and whipped at Ganis with his tail. She took notice of Sigurd and threw Eos to him, taking the mighty blow as gently as she could, smashing her into a tree. It was not a dexterous parry.

  Eos sang once more with the tune of Sigurd’s heavy strike at the dragon’s wing, a strike which tore it to make flight impossible for the vile creature. And yet another swing by the dragon at Sigurd, this time from his intact wing.

  Sigurd threw Eos to Percival who caught it midair, sweeping at the dragon’s leg. Sigurd was struck, but Percival avoided the attempt for him and passed Eos to Dindrane.

  The other twin struck at the dragon’s claw as it fell towards Sigurd, amputating the three claws meant for his life, and threw the singing blade to Ninazu, who ran it through his poison satchel, tearing it apart and anointing Eos with a mixture of poisonous concoctions.

  While the dragon was attempting for Hephaestion, ready to meet one of their adversary’s blows with his kite shield - Strikestopper, he called it - Ninazu shoved his captain away and pieced the dragon’s scaly hand, provoking a screech from the black lizard. Unwilling to part from the blade, Ninazu held as the dragon shook him and the blade free, tossing Ninazu at Monolos.

  Now in Monolos’ hand, Eos sang with a different tune, it was wilder yet still beautiful, and struck at the dragon’s belly, cutting deeply through the seemingly soft tissue at Eos’ touch. And the Progenitor Blade was handed to Eirene, who aimed for the dragon’s heart with Eos singing gently, but not piercing it deep enough. She gracefully avoided his spike tail by swinging on his still-intact wing.

  Eirene tossed Eos to Thalia, who managed to climb over the dragon’s spiked back. With Eos singing in a hammering tune, it sliced off some meat from the dragon’s shoulder, making the lizard screech in agony
once more. And Thalia was tossed away, Eos still dug deep into the bleeding dragon’s flesh, a result from another attempt from Thalia which did not fare as well as the first.

  Hephaestion rushed from behind the dragon preoccupied by the futile swings from the other Parthan weapons, and he tossed Strikestopper aside to grab onto Eos with all his strength. The dragon took notice of him and shook violently, trying to rid itself from the stubborn foe. When Eos was free, Hephaestion threw himself off, dropping near Ganis and handing her the Progenitor Blade.

  Ganis summoned all the power she could from her runes and Dark Gift to lunge at the dragon one last time. She ran with blinding speed, far exceeding anything the dragon could react to, and attempted for the giant lizard’s head. Eos soared – a grand voice echoing in all of Utyirth - as its sharp black edge cut through the thick black scales of Naa’tas’ neck, splitting head from body.

  The dragon’s head fell lifeless, two large yellow eyes within a black head staring at nothing, and its body violently convulsed, random strikes at random things, cutting trees and stone alike in one last mindless act of destruction. Then it stopped.

  Ganis collapsed next to the dead dragon.

  7

  “She’s awake! She’s awake!” a voice shouted enthusiastically.

  Ganis opened her eyes and found Thalia sitting next to her, holding her hand while she repeated the words to alert the others.

  “Where am I?” Ganis asked, scrubbing the haze from her eyes away with both hands.

  “Scandur Keep, King Ragnar’s domain.”

  The others rushed in, each in their own manner. Percival and Dindrane tripped atop one another as they raced to Ganis; Eirene glided through the air gracefully yet quickly; Monolos stumbled in; Ninazu stroked his beard as he made for her side; Sigurd calmly entered, feet punishing the wooden floor as they always did; and Hephaestion preceded by the smoke from his pipe, holding Eos with both hands, hilt above the blade. Within mere moments they were all cramped in Ganis’ quarters, beside her resting bed.

  “What happened?”

  “We defeated Naa’tas, but that it not the most impressive feat we did,” Hephaestion said, looking around for a place to seat himself. He decided to keep standing when he noticed how much of a ruckus it would cause if he attempted for the chair in the corner, behind all the other Parthans. “We were incomplete without Lyra at first, then without Pertinax, but with you and Eos our Ona was complete once more.”

  A single gleam made its way from the tip of Eos’ blade to the hilt at the mention of the Progenitor Blade, still held in Hephaestion’s hand.

  Ganis took a deep breath, and said disappointingly, “Then we make to Nosgard now.”

  “Not yet,” Thalia said. “Our new ship still needs some work before it can safely carry us to Nosgard. Oh, the Scands agreed to help us return to Nosgard by providing a ship and a crew.” Thalia scratched her head. “Although I doubt if it’s worth the trouble of training them.”

  Too tired to ask for an explanation, Ganis simply nodded. “What of the Watcher hounds?”

  “They come,” Monolos responded immediately.

  Ganis looked for Glowleaf, and as she was about to ask Monolos about the Watcher, Percival said, “As for the big news, I believe that Sua and I will get married.”

  The room fell into a sudden eerie silence. “What?” Dindrane shouted in surprise.

  “I proposed to Sua and she accepted. We will get married,” Percival repeated casually, as if it was announced a thousand times before.

  “Well,” Thalia said, “at least we’ll have something to occupy us while we prepare for our voyage.” She patted Percival on the back, “Congratulations, brother. Name your first child after me.”

  “What about the war?” Ganis asked. She held herself up, pulling the pillow with her to support her back against it rather than the bed’s hard wood.

  “The Scylds surrendered once Sigurd showed them Naa’tas’ head,” Hephaestion said, puffing on his pipe twice after speaking. “The Southern Alliance would have defeated them regardless, but not without unnecessary shedding of blood.”

  “And all is well in Utyirth?”

  Hephaestion chuckled. “Far from it, Ganis.” He shook his head. “Far from it.”

  “It will take some time for the land to heal,” Eirene said calmly. “Many generations of Midlanders suffered by the hands of Scylds, just as many generations of Scylds suffered by the hands of Scands. The scars of Utyirth go deep, and it will take time for the people to learn how to forgive one another.” Eirene paused. “The resistance, Prometh and his men, will be invaluable for such transition. I was told that they managed to settle their differences with the prison guards without the shedding of a single drop of blood. Whatever you taught them, it worked.” Eirene smiled. “You walked the path of Pax without even knowing it.”

  “But this is not our task,” Hephaestion said. “We are soldiers, fit for times of war and not of peace. Perhaps the people of Utyirth will be brought into the fold of the Empire, and then others more suitable for the task than we are would be sent to lift Utyirth up from the darkness it has been cast into.”

  “Many here seem to favor joining the Empire,” Dindrane said. She stood next to Percival, as she always did, and leaned on her brother casually. “Brother here certainly is keen on having Utyirth as part of the Demigod Emperor’s dominions.” She pointed at Percival with her thumb.

  “Our task is complete now,” Hephaestion said, turning away from the Parthans and leaving them. “I think you should rest some more, Ganis. Your body has been pushed far beyond its limits during the fight with Naa’tas.”

  The other Parthans left, Eirene leaving last, struggling to let go of Ganis’ hand. She slipped out as gracefully as the wind itself, white dress gliding through the air.

  And Ganis slept with no fear of attack or concern for safety.

  8

  A large ship named The Martyr Captain, in honor of Pertinax the Second, sailed from the shores of Utyirth to Nosgard with the nine Parthans and a large group of Watcher hounds aboard as its passengers.

  Ganis stood by the railing on the deck, staring at the blue horizon, where the gentle sea waves met the fading sky clouds, enjoying the sea breeze caressing her face. She wore her yellow hair down, allowing it to dance merrily through the air.

  “It is a beautiful sight,” Hephaestion slipped next to Ganis. Enthralled by the view, Ganis did not feel him approach.

  “Indeed it is.” She looked at him, staring into his chestnut eyes pulsing with calmness, and asked, “What of the Ona now?”

  He breathed deeply, lungs free from smoke for a time. “This was our last task as an Ona, I fear.” He brushed his curly brown hair away from his face, clearing it for the pleasant sea winds. “We have been away from Nosgard for quite some time, and undoubtedly much has changed. There will be something for us to do there, even not as an Ona.” He swallowed, suppressing the tears that ached to be released. “What about you?”

  “I’ll go back to Katabasis Keep and tell Lord Asclepius of what I learnt here.” She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath once she realized the astounding amount of knowledge she would have to record.

  “And what was that?” Hephaestion asked curiously.

  “That there is no planning worth planning other than preparation for the unexpected.” She paused for a moment, thinking of how difficult it will be back in Nosgard without the Parthans to guide her actions, to make her a better person and balance her conscious. “And I learnt that there is no better lesson than to explore the uncharted.”

 

 

 
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