by S. Nileson
“Teeban just abandoned you,” Archer said. “How can you be so blind?”
“Blind? It is you who is blind.” He looked around with eyes reddened by anger and voice coarsened by being louder than nature intended. “All of you are blind not to see the fate you have condemned Nosgard to by casting me, your savor, out of my rightful place.”
“Guards,” Archer spoke firmly to his Gallecian guard, “take this man away and lock him in a dungeon.” The Gallecians moved at his command as if they have done so for a thousand times and one. He then shifted his head towards Khatar and added, “Make sure he stays there.”
“As you command, Deliverer,” the Varangian said as he raised his right fisted hand to his chest. He wasted no time in following his first order.
“You have done well, Emperor Salus,” Starkad said to the new emperor, proudly.
“Uncle, I am sorry to disappoint, but I will not take the throne. It is not mine to claim.”
2
As quickly as the Gallecian throne room was filled by the Kolians, it was emptied. Only Archer, his original crew of three, and Starkad remained.
“What do you mean not yours to claim?” the Warchief asked curiously. He was surprised by how quickly and suddenly Archer had taken the decision, with no consultation whatsoever.
“I have seen many things on this quest of mine, and met with many people. The leaders I have seen were nothing like me. Yes, they were all loyal to my father even as he lay dead and rotting in his grave, and perhaps that is why they were so brave, so benevolent.” He looked at the Wolf Blade still drawn by the Warchief. “If this blade could speak, it would have spoken by now. My father would have given me guidance, perhaps, about what I am supposed to do. But I have reached a conclusion of my own. I will not be Emperor. I cannot be Emperor.”
“Then Nosgard will fall into oblivion, the alliances so carefully forged by your father will crumble. Whatever foe comes next, we will not survive,” Starkad said. “You must be Emperor, Salus. Not for your sake, but for ours.”
“That is exactly why I cannot be Emperor. I do not possess the strength, wisdom or fortitude to be such a man. I am not like my father. I will never be even close to him. He was a Demigod, worshiped by many after his death. I have seen people worship him in Partha as if he was amongst Pax or Rostam.”
“If you will not be Emperor, then who will? Tell me?”
Archer looked at his companions, seeing the worry and intrigue in their eyes. None of them wanted to bear the burden, he knew. There was no need for them to worry, he thought, for Archer had other plans. “There will be no Emperor from this day forth, uncle.” He looked at Ascilla and said, “An Emperor fights his own battles, but Ascilla fought mine.” He then looked at Balta, and said, “An Emperor walks his own path, but Balta walked mine.” He finally looked at Terketeus and added, “An Emperor is wise, but Keteus lent me his wisdom.
“You see, uncle, the one who walked the path my father laid down was not me, but my companions. On many an occasion I wanted to turn around and just leave. And I did so, after Fort Pax, I made arrangements to go in the forest and build a hut where I would spend the rest of my days living on the land as I once did alongside Keshish.”
“At least be Emperor long enough till you have a successor,” Starkad said. The Warchief was desperate, it was the first time Archer had seen him lose his composure.
“Uncle, when I went to the Orkstad Isles I met a man by the name of Ninazu, he was one of those who returned from Utyirth with Ganis, a man of greatness that few know of. He drugged me and by his hand I was given a vision of Nosgard’s future. In my vision I saw a darkness that spread into a dying bright light until there was nothing. Slowly, from the edge of the darkness, seven lights started to emerge, each different in its own way. The lights spread into the darkness and a new image was born, that of color and radiance. That, uncle, is Nosgard’s future.”
“Or simply a hallucination, Salus.”
“No, it is not, for now I see that the darkness is Nosgard’s past. The light its future. I have been to seven great kingdoms on my journey, and each deserves a light in the shape of a noble house. If they prosper, then they will grow and radiate greatness to all that they shine upon, and if they don’t then another will grow and radiate its own greatness upon those it shines upon.
“Like Balta, all those who prove themselves ought to have a place in such a house, for I now know that the true Deliverer and inheritor of Servak’s will is not I, but Balta, for he is the one who truly walked my father’s path. He deserves to be a leader of one of those Houses of Light.”
“I am not convinced, Salus, of this plan of yours.”
“Then as you interfered here, now, interfere if the Houses of Light fail. The structure that ruled the kingdoms for so long will still remain. You will be Warchief of Kol, responsible for your city and lands, just as Iolcus will be Prince of Partha, and each city continue to be ruled by those who currently rule it. The Houses of Light will simply be a family raised to nobility and given the responsibility to oversee a small portion of land and wealth. I trust that this will serve as the first step to grant future Nosgardians the chance to live under a just and benevolent ruler, one who walked a path amongst them and achieved greatness, a true Child of Light.”
“Salus, you speak as if maddened.”
“We have lived in many different ways. They have all failed. Why not bring the children of Nosgard into a rich house and have them tested in many ways to see if they are fit to one day lead one of those houses and complete the cycle once more? Is this much madder than to limit our inheritors by blood alone?”
“Your words do speak true, at times, and I am certain that many tutored in the Parthan School of Knowledge, or even within the walls of Katabasis, will agree with you, but do you understand how difficult it is for a father to choose an heir other than his own son or daughter?”
“Perhaps this is only because you have grown to see family in a different way than I. My past was robbed from me and so was my family. I only remember Keshish and Balta from my past, and even though we share no blood, I see them as family and I would sacrifice all that I am for them. Why not live in a world where everyone feels the same way towards one another?”
“Warchief,” Balta said, “I don’t wish to speak out of turn or show any disrespect when I say—”
The Warchief interrupted, “You have earned nothing from me but respect.”
Balta nodded gratefully. “I agree with Archer on this one wholeheartedly.”
“So do I,” Ascilla said. “And I am more than willing to commit my own inheritors to Archer’s plan, have them be the first Children of Light. I’m sure that Cavernous and Silhouette Trust would be happy to volunteer.”
The Warchief turned his back on the three heroes and walked towards the throne, rubbing his chin as he deeply thought about what Servak’s son had just revealed of his intentions. “Perhaps I have grown too old to see what good change can have.” He turned around and looked at Archer intently, eyes slightly squinting, and said, “Servak often spoke of how we are only custodians of the world our children will one day inherit. You speak much like your father, undoubtedly. He would have been proud.” He gently placed the Wolf Blade on the throne. “I will support you on this endeavor, but at the first sign of failure I shall once again interfere.”
“And I will expect nothing less from you, uncle. Thank you.”
3
The hour was late when Archer summoned Terketeus to the courtyard to enjoy one last walk in peace together. “Old man,” Archer said as soon as he spotted Terketeus descending from the stone stairs linking a balcony to the courtyard, “how are they treating you?”
“Remarkably well, little one. I have been offered many fruits from all over Nosgard to feast on. The Gallecians are quite accustomed to serving dragons, it seems, and their portions are generous. They did find it strange that I insisted on dining on fruit, however.”
They started walking around
the artistic hedges, looking at the decoration for the very first time in the fashion it was meant to be looked at. “What luxury my brother lived in. I no longer wonder why he became as he did.”
“Aye, hardship breeds strength and makes one wiser. My kin are all too familiar with this concept.”
“About your kind, Keteus, you’ve sided against them for us.” He stopped for a moment to ask his companion a question that demanded his full attention, “Why?”
Terketeus chuckled and said, “I chose your side a long time ago, far before your people called themselves Nosgardians, when the land was much different. I’m afraid my answer will disappoint you.”
“I would still like to hear it.”
“Then,” Terketeus said as he started to walk again and encouraged Archer to join him, “I will have you hear it. I sided with you simply because it was the right thing to do. Like you, we are given a conscience and often grow too numb to its calling. I simply couldn’t see it in myself to ignore the suffering of your people by the hands of mine. And for that I was cast out from my home. They thought they killed me, but failed to accept that I had fallen out of my own volition for penance.” He looked at Archer and smiled. “Penance I’ve found by your side, little one.”
Tears started to form within Archer’s lids, making his vision blurry and his voice shaky. He controlled himself well and none of them left his eyes. “Your words make it even more difficult for me to say what needs to be said.”
“Don’t worry, friend, I already know. Regardless of your desire, I must return to my people and exact upon the corrupt a vengeance that has been ignored for far too long. We will never meet again, Archer, or should I call you Salus? It matter not, for by the time I return eons would have passed and none living on this land today will still be alive. Farewell, my friend, and may Fate guide you as it has guided me.”
They walked in silence together for some time, until with no words exchanged Terketeus looked at Archer and nodded, his face bearing the same cheerful smile it so often bore. That was the last of Terketeus Archer saw.
Chapter 20: And the Road to Deliverance
‘Deliverer, they call me, oh how mistaken they are.’ Deliverer from The Wolfiad.
1
“The Deliverer is gone, Warchief,” Khatar said after rushing into the portion of the Gallecian palace Starkad had the men prepare for him. “He left a message in his chamber.”
Starkad sat on a wooden chair too small to comfort him – too Gallecian. He raised his head and showed Khatar how his face had responded at hearing the news, with heavy twisted frowns. Calmly, and with much restraint, he asked, “What does it say?”
The Varangian opened the letter carefully and read it aloud, “Uncle, forgive me but my role here is done. By the time you read this message I will have been long gone and on my way to Estgard, where I have a debt to pay. I have no intention of ever coming back and so I took a new name, which I shall not reveal, by which I hope to spend the rest of my days in peace. You know it in your heart that I am not fit to rule, and I apologize for forcing your hand. Please send no one after me.
“There is one last thing I must ask of you, uncle, Steward of Light, and it is for you to cast an iron mold atop the Gallecian throne, where my father once sat, and shape it in the form of a large wolf’s head. Just before it cools and becomes too hard to cut, I wish you to lunge into it the Wolf Blade so that my father’s soul can rest for eternity where it ought to be. Perhaps one day he will find someone worthy enough to hear his voice. I can only hope.
“Thank you, uncle, and thank all those who walked the path of Deliverance, my father’s path, with me. Nosgard is in your debt. Long live Nosgard and its Houses of Light. May the Children of Light prosper and guide our future as the great leaders of the past once did.”
When Khatar had done with reading Salus’ letter there was a pause. The Warchief rested both his elbows on his knees and hunched forwards, deep in thought. “How troublesome your sons grew to be, Servak,” he whispered as he smiled. “Now how exactly will we tell the rest of Nosgard about this?” Starkad asked of his loyal servant.
“The Deliverer sent Qella and her Silver Stags with messages to all those whom he had met on his journey. Qella tells me that they are to summon them here for the announcement to be made. She assured me that his messages were convincing.”
“And the others?”
“They will remain till the business is concluded. There is only the matter of the mercenaries I recruited for the mission. They have not yet been paid. Warchief, may I request that my promise to them be fulfilled?”
Starkad waved his hand dismissively and said, “Whatever you promised, offer it to them and anything else you deem them worthy of.” He looked up at Khatar and added, “The world, Varangian, is about to be very different, and I am not so sure about what role in it we have to play.”
“Forgive me, Warchief, but I heard that the Deliverer entrusted you with a task should his plan fail.”
Starkad smiled in approval of his Varangian’s curiosity. It was a trait he often discouraged in public, but one he greatly appreciated in private. “Over the years I have grown to trust my instincts. They tell me that Salus’ plan will succeed. There will be no need for my involvement, just for my role to gradually shrink to involve Kol alone. In truth, I look forward to such days. I look forward to simplicity.”
“Whatever happens, Warchief, the Varangian will always be by your side.”
“And I by yours,” Starkad said.
2
The leaders of Nosgard answered Archer’s summons. Much to their disappointment they had not had the opportunity to see who the boy grew to be. In their own way, each was proud for the role they played in his shaping. Loyal servants to Servak’s cause and that of Salus’ were made nobles to head the Seven Houses of Light founded as per the Deliverer’s wish, little did they know that the true bearer of the title now was Balta, and not Servak’s son.
It has been years, Starkad recalled, since the leaders of Nosgard had gotten along so well. It was a pleasant feeling for Starkad to be able to talk to Prince Iolcus of Partha as he once did; as a friend. Rivalry, the leaders knew, would naturally emerge between the Houses of Light, and they all pledged to interfere should the rivalry grow too violent. The Empire of Nosgard was no more, and from its ashes the Republic of Nosgard emerged. Its sign interchangeable, either the phoenix or the wolf. Its colors, still black and red.
As per Archer’s wish, the throne was covered in iron shaped like the head of a wolf. On the wolf a blade was dug so deep in the iron that only the hilt was shown. The black Gallecian throne room, once seat of the Nosgardian Emperor, had been reduced to a sacred altar and memorial to the Demigod Emperor Servak. Many claim that its new purpose was even greater than its old one.
Balta and Ascilla stood cloaked and ready for their next adventure. They had planned on seeking out Archer in Estgard, a luxury Ascilla could afford now that the orphans had been entrusted to Ganis’ care, the head of the House of Temperance, Gallecia’s House of Light. The Ichneumon Order, having recognized her contribution to Nosgard, allowed her service to come to an end, with a handsome compensation.
Balta drew a deep breath as he looked up at the iron wolf, cold morning air filling his lungs. “I never imagined that I would be standing here today, looking forward to a long and tiresome journey.”
Ascilla smiled and gently placed her hand on Balta’s shoulder, a gesture which allowed a breeze of cold air to enter through her cloak and send a chill up her spine. “It’s cold here, Balta, and we have been standing here for long enough. The Wolf Blade will not tell you of Archer’s location no matter how many times you ask.”
He sighed. “You’re right. We should get moving before news reaches the people that the Deliverer is still in Gallecia.”
“You still haven’t accepted your title I see.”
“Archer keeps piling up the burden I have to carry. I must tell him to stop or I’ll be crushed under an inv
isible weight.” He looked at the fair Walkyrien, her face no longer bearing the seriousness it once bore. She was truly beautiful, Balta saw. He was lucky, he thought, that Fate had brought them together. For this moment he was willing to go through a hundred quests and fulfill a hundred wills.
“Come,” Balta said, “let us start our wat to Estgard.” He started to make way to the exit, Ascilla walking by his side. When they had just crossed the threshold separating the room from the corridor outside, and into the lights the new colorful stained glass bearing the story of Salus’ journey shaped, he asked, “Are you sure about entrusting the children to Ganis?”
“No,” Ascilla said, “but I have faith.”
Note to Reader
Thank you for reading Book of Kayal: Houses of Light, the second installment in the Book of Kayal universe. I truly hope you enjoyed reading about Salus’ journey and his many strange encounters. Stay tune for more Book of Kayal books. If you haven’t read Strength of Unity yet, Ganis’ journey before being the Countess of Katabasis, and are interested, you could find it for free on Smashwords. Please consider leaving a review with your honest opinion about the book. If you have any questions or interests of knowing more about a particular character, you can contact me on [email protected].
Thanks!
S. Nileson.