Book of Kayal: Houses of Light

by S. Nileson

  “Anaria told me of this blade.” Archer held up the Wolf Blade, a name fitting for the blade holding the Wolf Emperor’s soul. Servak had many names, Archer came to know. “It is my father, in a different form to that most are accustomed to.”

  Starkad’s eyes widened in awe. He dropped his food and stood up, heading to a copper basin to wash his hands before approaching Archer and the sacred weapon he held. “May I hold the Razul Blade?” He asked calmly.

  “You may, uncle.” He paused for a moment before handing the weapon over. “I would feel safer if you were the one to carry this blade to Gallecia. Will you join us, uncle? It will make the business with my brother far less risky.”

  Starkad smiled and said, “I never intended to have you leave my sight.”

  2

  The road to Gallecia was safe, with the unusual retinue traveling with Archer, not to mention the Kolian battalion following the Warchief. They were no less than a thousand Kolians behind the Deliverer, a force few can match without much preparation.

  Ascilla noticed a few distant figures watching them, first from above the desert dunes then from behind the forest trees. Qella, having gotten close to the Walkyrien, confirmed her suspicion of being followed and suspected that the culprits were Silver Stags. She briefly mentioned that the Emperor had lost the favor of her sisters with the lack of humility and respect he had shown Gullveig, their leader. After all, there was a limit to how much they were willing to sacrifice for Servak’s son.

  On many occasions Archer approached Balta and voiced his doubts about the confrontation with his brother. Each time Balta would tell him not to fear, for with Archer came the weight of Nosgard’s true will. The will for unity. The will for justice.

  Archer had devised a plan, incomplete but growing ever more so by the day. He started to make sense of Servak’s will, and often would look at the blade hanging from Starkad’s belt with many thoughts rushing through his mind. Why had the Wolf Blade not spoken yet? Archer did not know.

  What he knew, however, was that many things could go wrong and prevent Servak’s soul to manifest itself in the blade. And if it spoke to him, he wondered, would he be able to hear it? These questions he could only ask to two people, Anaria, who had made herself disappear, and Ganis, who was locked in her keep so far away.

  Many things could go wrong. Few of them involved the journey from Kol to Gallecia. The real challenges Archer was worried about were the consequences of having Malus usurped, for undoubtedly there would be those who thought that Archer’s claim was false. He wished he would have had his memories from before being sent to Keshish. He wished he knew a little of how his father was. Perhaps this was all intentionally done, his memory erased to overcome his inadequacies, or perhaps there was no other way. He thought of many things on the road to Gallecia. He thought of many things as his journey came closer to its conclusion.

  When they arrived, the Kolian bivouacked by the gates of Gallecia, a common occurrence whenever the Warchief visited. Yet this time their presence was unwelcomed, for Teeban, cunning as he was, got word that Archer had been united with Starkad, and that Salus, the heir they wanted dead, was alive and breathing at the very doorstep of the Sky Wing’s puppet.

  3

  “Why are we still here?” Kari asked of Kavis. They sat by a fire to keep them warm from the chill of Gallecian nights, and to cook the stew they were preparing, each taking a portion of the ingredients to cut and throw into the boiling pot when the pieces were small enough.

  “Rewards,” he said calmly. “I still need to receive an official pardon from the authorities and you haven’t got paid yet.” He threw a chunk of raw rabbit meat to Belua who ate it lazily.

  “I know, I know. But I meant why is Khatar having us follow him still? He could have made sure the Warchief compensated us as promised. There’s no need for us to come all the way here.”

  “Then maybe he’s sentimental. Why are you bothered anyway? If this works we get to have direct contact with the most powerful man in Nosgard. Imagine how valuable this would be for someone like us. We would be practically untouchable as long as we don’t do anything too crazy.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Kari threw the last of her vegetables in the boiling pot and started stirring it.

  4

  Archer walked around the tents, searching for where his companions were gathered. After some pacing around he found Balta and Ascilla chatting by a cozy fire and decided to leave them undisturbed. He was more interested in speaking to Terketeus and Khatar, for they were the ones who the Warchief stressed to have the most important roles to play in the confrontation with Malus.

  Terketeus, the dragon who still assumed human form, had found an apple tree in the middle of the camp with some nearly ripened fruit hanging from it. Their condition did not bother Terketeus, for he plucked and ate them indiscriminately, occasionally jumping to grab one a bit too high for him to reach while rooted on the ground.

  “Old man, how are you?” Archer asked as he approached Keteus from his blind spot.

  “Little one,” he answered without turning around, “It’s been some time since we spoke. I’m delightfully well, thank you. How are you faring with the time coming nigh?”

  “I’m not too sure about it. Things have changed so much in such little time. I’m becoming overwhelmed with all of it.”

  “Don’t worry, little one. We are all here by your side. I for one will not leave you until your journey is complete. I’ve invested far too much emotion in it to leave it unfulfilled or simply not see as much of it as I can. I’ve grown very curious about this Malus fellow.”

  “It’s good that you’ve brought this up. You know there’s an ambassador from the Sky Wing who has been advising my brother rather poorly. He’s a dragon, I’m told, and I would like to know if you will protect me should he turn his fangs or flames against me.”

  “Of course I will. We dragons grow stronger with age, and I’m very old. Perhaps even the eldest by now. There is little chance this ambassador can overcome me. Just make sure that the Warchief will not keep me from going into the throne room by your side.”

  “Thank you, Keteus. You’re a true friend.” Archer turned his head away and started heading towards where he last saw Khatar.

  Keteus paused for a moment, watching Archer walk away, before he resumed his apple picking.

  The Varangian sat in his drafty tent, bare chested and wet. A bucket of water with a wet piece of cloth in it by his side. Archer wondered what purpose this exercise could serve, but his wonderment came to a quick halt when the Varangian declared that he had noticed his presence.

  “Deliverer, how may I assist you?” His eyes were closed as he sat cross-legged, breathing steadily in spite of the interruption his speech caused.

  “I just came here for assurance, Khatar.”

  The Varangian hummed.

  “Will I be safe during our audience with my brother?”

  “I pledged to serve you, Deliverer, must I do more to convince you of my fealty?”

  “No, that’s more than enough. I trust you completely.”

  “Then why ask?”

  “Call it reassurance.”

  Khatar hummed. “A strange concept for us Kolians to grasp.”

  It could not be true, Archer thought, that all Kolians did not understand the need for reassurance in such times. “Then,” he proceeded to ask, “will my companions be safe?”

  “If it’s within my hands, they will.”

  “Even the dragon?”

  “Even the dragon,” Khatar confirmed. His tone had lost the spite it once had whenever matters regarding Terketeus were discussed.

  “Tomorrow we go to Gallecia. I want everyone well rested for when we meet with my brother. We must do all we can to leave nothing up to Fate.”

  5

  The gates of Gallecia opened to the host entering, Archer and his band was accompanied by fifty of Kol’s finest warriors. It was just before noon, an hour in which th
e streets are usually living with the everyday ruckus caused by the city dwellers. But the black city was silent. Its life hushed.

  “Is it always empty as such?” Archer asked of Ascilla while they followed Starkad through the cobbled streets and the narrow passages.

  “I’ve never seen it like this before. Gallecia is known to be lively both day and night, first with the merchants and honest folk and then with those of questionable reputation.” She had instinctively dropped her right arm unto the hilt of her blade.

  “The citadel is coming up ahead,” Ascilla said, gesturing with her head towards a gate slightly to their left, it was an odd placement which was forced upon the city built on hills.

  When they were at the closed gates Starkad’s voice broke the silence like a sudden thunder dropping from the heavens, “I, Starkad and Warchief of Kol, command you to open the gates.”

  There was silence for a few moments before the cracks of steel gears turned and the mighty iron reinforced doors opened. Inside was a large troop of Gallecian soldiers clad in their steel armor and pointing the famous Gallecian halberd towards the foreigners. A single captain, his headdress distinguishing him from the other visor-clad soldiers, stood a full ten feet ahead of them.

  “Warchief Starkad,” he said in a coarse voice fitting one who spent a lifetime in the army, “the Emperor requests all his visitors to submit their arms upon entry of the citadel.”

  Starkad spotted some of his Varangian at the very end of the courtyard where the Gallecians stood. The Varangian, the entire force stationed in Gallecia, were no more than half the number of the Gallecians who barred their way, and even less would be at his disposal in such time and place – given that not all of them were in earshot’s range.

  “Captain,” the Warchief said sternly, “I will only say this once.” He saw that the Varangian inside had took notice of their Warchief’s arrival and started gathering behind the Gallecians, the soldiers at flanks showing concern by throwing glances to their sides and behind them at the readying Kolians. “We will get into the palace in whatever condition we are in now regardless of your consent. The only say you have in the matter is the condition I decide to leave you in.

  “If we had drawn our blades,” the Warchief continued, “we would have already been on our way. I do not appreciate the delay, Captain. Now, I am in a good mood this fine day and will allow you one last time to apologize for your transgression and suffer no consequence.”

  The Gallecian drew a deep breath anxiously, thanking Pax that his face was covered under his silver visor to hide the fear and sweat that drenched him. “Make way!” he shouted and the Gallecian lines made a path for the Warchief and his allies to pass.

  “You chose your side wisely, Captain,” Starkad said as he passed him. He looked at Archer and said, “Now, Salus, it is your time to lead. The path is straight ahead through this gate.” He pointed at a large stone gate which worked in a mechanism entirely unfamiliar to Archer as opposed to the regular wooden or steel ones. Two black howling wolves fashioned from granite greeted the travelers.

  When Archer came close to the wolf statues he noticed how large they were, more than twice the height he was and many times wider. “Uncle,” Archer whispered, “whatever happens today I want you to know that I am grateful for all that you have offered and wish that your wisdom will continue to guide whoever sits on the throne tomorrow.”

  Chapter 19: A Great End

  ‘One only hears stories of strangeness and not those of regularity. That is simply because we falsely deem the latter to be of lesser significance.’ Deliverer from The Wolfiad.

  1

  The throne room was large, much larger than that of Kol’s, and Gallecian soldiers were ready by both sides of the large red carpet with black trimmings leading to the black throne on which Malus sat, Teeban standing on his right. Both were unfamiliar sights to Archer, for none of his memory had yet returned. Archer and his group were outnumbered, but unmatched in strength. It was true that Gallecian armor was thick and gave its wearer much protection, but Kolian blades wielded by Kolian arms made them much less of a threat. Should they have been Parthan soldiers, Archer knew, the situation would have been far different, but Emperor Malus had long lost favor with the Prince of Partha, and his troops were no longer at his disposal.

  “Uncle,” Malus said, seated on his throne with arms artificially resting on his laps, making his speech seem rehearsed to his audience, “how grateful am I for you to deliver me the fugitive that had eluded us for so long. Gallecia once again owes you a debt of gratitude.”

  Starkad hummed and spoke in a low, calm tone, “Gallecia once owed the Parthan Prince a debt of gratitude, and I know how you paid them in Stonerift.”

  “I do not know what you speak of, uncle,” Malus’ voice quivered.

  “Under your banners and by the force your men Stonerift was leveled, its people slain and their corpses displayed in the most atrocious of manner.”

  Teeban stepped forward and added, also calmly, “A subject does not speak to his emperor in such way. Know your place, Kolian.”

  “So the serpent dares speak to a man. I still do not know by which authority or sorcery you are here, and little do I care. My words are for the boy alone.”

  “Boy?” Malus said. “Uncle, sometimes I feel that you purposefully intend to undermine my authority. But then I think of how much wiser you are than to do so.” Malus looked at Teeban and said, addressing the Warchief still, “Teeban is an ally sent to us with good intentions from our ally the Sky Wing. Why is this so hard for you to understand? We are both on the same side.”

  “Wiser, you say,” the Warchief said. His voice was slowly rising at the Emperor’s transgression. “You let our enemies gain a foothold in Gallecia under your very nose, allowing them to manipulate you like the puppet you are. You are wrong, boy, it appears I was not wise enough, but now I know the error of my ways, for it was never my place to speak.” The Warchief looked at Archer and added, “This is the new Emperor.”

  Archer stepped forward, regaining the position he held ahead of Starkad when they first entered. “I’m told you’re my brother.” Silence fell on the throne, Teeban starting to get agitated.

  “Impossible,” Malus said. “Salus was killed some years ago just before my father. We have proof of his demise.”

  “A corpse mutilated beyond recognition?” Starkad interrupted. “That is no proof of anything.”

  “Please, uncle,” Archer pleaded to Starkad. It felt appropriate that he would be the one to judge his own brother.

  Starkad withdrew once more, giving Servak’s youngest the chance he promised.

  “You are not fit to be emperor, Malus. There is no shame in that.”

  “Guards!” Malus shouted to his Gallecian soldiers, “Seize the blasphemer.”

  The Gallecians dropped their halberds and earned themselves a quick response from the Kolians, and the others by Archer’s side. Some Varangian Guard who had slipped in amidst the conversation emerged from behind the large black columns supporting the roof of the throne room.

  “Stand down, Gallecians, and suffer no consequence,” Starkad said commandingly, with Wolf Blade drawn and held firmly.

  “Even if your petty force could survive our noble guard,” Teeban said, “how do you propose they would fare against a dragon?”

  Amidst the silence of confrontation, eyes gleaming at one another, foe pitted against foe, Terketeus’ sandals rubbed against the cold marble floor. Ever since entering Gallecia he had his greyed hood covering his face, and his cloak securely shut with a frail grey cloth strap which served as a belt. He looked much like one of the devout monks serving the lesser gods.

  “Teeban,” Terketeus said, “I remember this name.” His voice was deep and echoed with age beyond that achievable by mortal man. It is like the very sky was split asunder and unimaginable power leaked through. “You have taken many names over the eon, all those of cunning and deceit. I know who you are, Foxdragon, I
know who you are, Yelaneus.”

  “How do you know these names?”

  Terketeus removed his hood and revealed his wrinkled aged face. His grey eyes glowed with youth and his posture was finally complete. He had grown taller, it seemed to Archer, and far more terrifying. “I am Terketeus, eldest of the Sky Wing, once Yilbegan.”

  Teeban collapsed on the floor, knees firmly rooted and back hunched. He no longer had the strength to stand in the presence of one so powerful. “Why do you side with them?”

  “Because in them I have seen all that which we once were. They are young and wage war on themselves and on nature, but there is much potential in them. I trust that in time they will grow as a species and achieve things greater than we ever could. We should have never continued to mistreat them. We had no right.”

  “The Sky Wing will cast you out once more as they have so many centuries ago,” Teeban said in a spiteful tone.

  “Then let us settle this as we once have, with claw pitted against claw and flame against flame. I will return to the Sky Wing and purge it from all corruption, for its roots have grown too deep into the soil of our morals. Go now and warn them that I will come. I have no intention of sneaking up there like a cowardly thief. I am your ruler, I have always been so, and now it is time for justice. Take their words to your leaders.”

  As if Malus never mattered, Teeban, or Yelaneus, rushed to the window and jumped, taking his true form in the sky and flying away to bring his people the message of Terketeus’ intent.

  “Teeban,” Malus cried, “you abandon me in such dire times.” He sobbed. “What of our friendship? What of your promise?”

  “It is over, brother,” Archer said, approaching the sobbing Malus. “You have ruled poorly and made too many enemies.”

  “I am Emperor and rightful heir to the Demigod Emperor Servak himself.” He turned around himself, trying to quickly make eye contact with all those who stood staring at him and shouted, “This man is an imposter, a deceiver. You are cowards to turn your backs on your Emperor in his time of need. I should have killed you all when I had the chance. Teeban was the only true friend of Nosgard amongst you all.”