by Jon Kiln
“Quickly, Artas!” Ganry shouted to his companion. “We need torches, an ordinary blade is no use against these creatures.”
Artas heeded Ganry’s warning, taking a lighted torch from the wheel house and thrusting it into another mass of attacking birds as they descended upon the crew once again. Waving the torch in front of him, they soon began to retreat and fly back up into the air.
The remaining crew quickly caught on, and soon all of them were armed with blazing torches, fending off the savage birds.
“How do we get rid of these creatures,” the Captain cried out to Ganry, who was slicing through yet another attacking flock. Windstorm was in full blaze, setting fire to any feathers that it made contact with.
“We burn them,” Ganry cried out. “The normal sword is useless. These creatures do not fear the blade as they are protected by magic. Fire, however, is a natural element they cannot avoid.”
The Captain rallied his crew and they all formed a circle of fire, thrusting out with their torches at any beast that dared to come too close.
“This is a dark evil that attacks my ship, that’s for sure,” the Captain bemoaned. “Burn them men, burn them all and send them back to the hell they came from!” he shouted out to the remaining crew.
Soon, the ship was covered with the charred bodies of the small dead creatures. More crew members had been lost, even in the end battle. The number of birds had dwindled so low that the remaining ones gave up the attack and retreated. At last they flew off in the same direction they had come from.
Every man left alive on the ship dropped in exhaustion from the life and death battle. As they collapsed to the deck, they could see their ship was a mess. Many of the hoisted sails had been damaged, either by the bird’s knife edge beaks or the fire that had consumed their bodies. The deck was littered with the charred remains of the birds and a number of dead colleagues. Most of the dead humans had been reduced to a pile of bones, so it would be hard to recognize who had died that day.
“I fear this is a day of dark evil,” Artas said as he seated himself on the wet deck, next to Ganry.
Both men allowed the spray from the sea that crashed over the bow of the ship to wet their bodies and cool them down. They too were exhausted and welcomed the cooling sea spray. Around them, the sailors began to clear the decks, removing the burned bodies of the ugly creatures and throwing them overboard.
“This does not bode well, my young friend,” Ganry said, fearing it might have something to do with their mission. He knew there was a long tradition of witchcraft in Mirnee. It had been practiced for centuries, though the Emperor had tried to ban it when the black arts had started to take hold. He suspected something, or someone, had stirred, for this seemed the work of magic. A dark magic at that.
“You believe this to be connected to us, Ganry?” Artas asked with raised eyebrows.
“Well, ask yourself, did the birds simply come across the ship on their travels? Or had they been sent to attack us by some unseen force?” Ganry paused for a moment before continuing, “Personally, I am inclined to believe the latter.”
“But how? Who could control such creatures?”
“The only kingdom I know that tolerates the existence of witches, is Mirnee, though they’re not supposed to practice. If memory serves me well, the Emperor could not abide them. He believed them to be a rogue force that no one could control. It was General Jeon, his First in Command of the armies, who said they were an asset to the lands. He had wanted to control them and set them to work for the good of Mirnee. The Emperor would have none of it, but I believe he managed to be persuaded. At the time, I was very skeptical that they could actually perform any magic, believing it to be trickery and fraud, but after this experience, I feel different about it now.”
“Are there no good witches? Surely they cannot all be evil?”
“Some, yes. They would cast their spells for the good of the community, increasing the harvest or calling for rain in time of drought. Most though, were attracted to the darker magic. Those witches do not heal or put their talents to good use for the sake of the people. They always strive to be the most powerful of their kind. I could never understand why the Emperor allowed them to stay in his lands. They could not be trusted, but Jeon’s argument must have been convincing. That was all many years ago and I do not know the situation now. I left, remember!”
“Perhaps the witches moved on to where they can now practice and created the monstrous birds?” Artas suggested.
“No, I don’t think they will have moved on, they had it good in Mirnee because General Jeon supported them. He moved them to a remote area where they could be left alone to practice their art. I think the Emperor tolerated his little project because, like me, he really didn’t believe in magic,” Ganry admitted.
“We should know soon enough. This will delay us. We were due to get into the port city of Aelland, tomorrow. I doubt that will be possible now, not with the damage to the ship, and we’re light on crew members too. I’ll check with the Captain, but I should think that we will lose a couple of days at least.”
“You go rest, now, boy. I will speak to the good Captain,” Ganry insisted. “You need to conserve your strength. I have a feeling this diplomatic mission of ours is going to be more troublesome than I first thought.”
5
“These are my boys. I know they are young but they would not lie to their Ma. Not about something as serious as this. I believe what they say is the truth, your Majesty. The villagers have been massacred, yet they walk around as if they still live,” the woman finished telling Queen Myriam the tale.
Myriam shuddered at the thought. Surely there must be some mistake? The dead do not walk around, of that she felt certain. What concerned her the most was that the villagers had been murdered, but by whom?
She looked upon the two young men, not much younger than herself. They appeared scared and had fear in their eyes. She needed to determine what exactly it was that they saw.
“I’m assuming you have checked the tale of the boys?” she asked, knowing very well that young boys would exaggerate their adventures, especially if they were in trouble.
“Yes, ma’am,” the woman replied. “The men have been to verify their story, and what they saw was horrific,” Crin’s mother explained. “We came straight to inform you. Our entire village is fearing that they will be next.”
“But what is it that makes you think the villagers are dead, if they are walking around?” the Queen asked, still unable to believe such a story.
“They be walking around with sightless eyes. They do not respond to their names, and some of them have injuries—injuries that no living being could bear,” Crin’s father replied. “When they saw us, it was the strangest behavior I ever did see. They made such a dreadful sound and attacked us. At first, we were unsure we were under attack. Even then, we never thought they would want to harm us, they’re our neighbors. I saw Mitchell Bragan, we drink together in the ‘Hanging Sheep’ on market day, but he tried to bite me. I was lucky and managed to push him away. Poor Alfonze wasn’t so lucky, they ripped him to shreds. I can still hear his screams in my head now.”
He stood tall to re-tell the tale, but his voice shook with fear. Clearly, the memory of what happened would live with him for years.
When the villagers had arrived in the early hours of the morning begging to speak with the Queen, her personal guards had awoken her. They thought that she needed to know what was happening on her border, especially with the problems of Mirnee. On hearing the news, Myriam quickly dressed and immediately came down to meet with the villagers. They were in the reception parlor, where they could sit comfortably while they awaited her arrival.
“I will send soldiers back with you to protect your own village,” Myriam assured the frightened people. “We will investigate what has happened at Norham, and, if necessary, deal with these… these people.” Even after they had recounted the event, Myriam still could not believe that the dead were
walking around her Kingdom. “Tonight, you are welcome to rest here in the castle. Shelter and food will be provided for you all. As soon as you feel ready, we will organize your return.”
“No, milady, we must go immediately,” Crin’s father spoke up, not wishing to go against the Queen’s wishes and hospitality, but the matter was dire. “We have left our kin behind to come for help. We fear that whatever has happened in Norham may happen to us next.”
She nodded her understanding and walked away from the small group of representatives to speak with one of her commanders.
“This is a strange conundrum, Commander Flint,” she said to her adviser. “Can you spare any men to escort these people home?”
“Of course, ma’am, I will rouse some men immediately. There have been reports of strange events, so I would say that time is of the essence and we must move on this immediately. I will go myself, with a squad of fifty men.”
“What strange events? I have not heard such reports,” Myriam queried.
“One farmer, not far from the same border, found all his livestock slaughtered. Another has found all his crop, rank and rotted. There is talk of witchcraft by the locals. They believe their crops and livestock have been cursed,” Commander Flint reported. “I was to speak to you tomorrow, your majesty, but it seems that events have overtaken us.”
“Then we must act quickly and find out what is happening,” Myriam said, a worried frown on her brow. She turned and quickly returned to the villagers, who stood warming their hands around a burning log fire. “It is agreed. Commander Flint and his men are to escort you back this evening. Rest assured, these are fine men, some of the best in my army. They will guard your homes with their lives. For now, you must rest awhile around the fire. I will arrange some hot broth for you, to strengthen you for the return journey. I know you are in a rush to be home, but it will take a short while to make all the arrangements.”
The people nodded their agreement, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with exhaustion now they had stopped. Their journey tonight had been unexpected and many had not yet slept. A quick rest and refreshment would be very welcome. Although they did not wish to delay their return, they accepted the kind offer of the Queen and took the blankets that her servants offered them. Soon the smell of a beef broth filled the air as the kitchen staff delivered a warming dish with fresh bread.
While the villagers rested, Commander Flint hurried to the barracks and roused his most experienced men. Once all were gathered, he briefed them on the strange mission they were about to embark upon. He needed them prepared for the situation that they were to face when they arrived at the border town.
“We are told that these villagers are dead, yet they still walk,” he spoke to an attentive audience of seasoned soldiers. “They will attack and kill, if they get their hands on you. I can’t tell you much more as I’ve never seen or heard of such a thing. How we kill the dead, I’m not sure.”
“Separate their heads from their shoulders, sir, that should do the trick,” his Sergeant suggested.
“That sounds like good advice,” Flint agreed. “If they can’t see us then I don’t think they can kill us,” the Commander smiled.
The men laughed nervously. Most of them had fought in the recent battles of the coup. Some had even gone to the desert to rescue their Queen from the lizard people, the Akkedis, and fought in the battle in the underground city. Each of them was experienced, but still, they would need a cool head if what they were told was true about the occupants of Norham.
By the time the sun was rising above the horizon, a troop of fifty soldiers and five villagers set off on their journey. The soldiers would leave the villagers at their homes and then continue on to Norham, and whatever fate awaited them there.
6
The day was a sunny one as the ship finally arrived in port, almost two days late. To the casual eye all seemed normal, being unaware of the poor souls who were lost when the birds attacked. If anyone had looked closer, they would see the damaged sails and blackened masts, but no one really paid the ship any heed as she quietly sailed in.
As soon as the ship docked, Ganry and Artas disembarked quickly. They needed to secure lodgings before the night set in. Ganry felt as if he were finally home, flooded with emotions and memories almost as soon as he set foot on Mirnee soil.
“Are you well, Ganry? You have a distant look in your eyes,” Artas asked, dragging all the baggage down the walkway as Ganry stood staring into nothing.
“I feel like I never left, Artas, and the emotion of being back is quite overwhelming,” Ganry said in a quiet voice. “It looks almost exactly the same as it did the last time I was here, all those years ago. If my memory serves, a very dear friend of mine lives close by. He will put us up while we stay here.”
“Sounds better than staying in an inn, that’s for sure.” Artas was pleased. Friends always cook better meals than inns.
They set off into the market square that was up a hill with a wide flat road. Artas was impressed, he had always thought of anyone from another country as a barbarian, but it appeared that Mirneans were quite civilized.
“What are you smiling about?” Ganry asked the young man.
“Just smiling to myself, really. I thought we had come to a barbaric country, and I am surprised by the clean streets and busy folk going about their business.”
Ganry clipped him across the back of his head with the back of his hand.
“Ow! What was that for?” Artas was most put out.
“Because you think I am a barbarian,” Ganry replied, looking at the young upstart. “See, the market is the same as anywhere, with fresh fruits, chickens running around, and all the finest rugs you could ever wish for. While I am here, I will buy myself a new fur coat. It will be made of biggest, most luxurious bear fur you have ever seen. The bears in this land are known for their size and their furs will last you a lifetime. I left in a hurry and never did pick one up to take with me.”
Artas looked around at the market stalls. They looked exactly the same as they did in his homeland, expect there was livestock running around free, which seemed a little strange to him.
“Shall we try the food, Ganry?” Artas’s tone was almost pleading. He was starving and his mouth was salivating at the delicious meats cooking on a spit. The food on the ship had been palatable, but plain. This food looked delicious.
Ganry pulled him away from the stall. “Wait until your stomach has adjusted, young one,” he warned. “Those spices will burn your tongue away and who knows what they will do to your guts. You need to gradually introduce yourself to the foods of this land. Hot and spicy is the key ingredient to everything.”
“Let’s buy some fresh bread then. Look over there, can’t you smell it?” Artas followed the smell and soon found himself almost nose to nose with a young woman, stood on the bakery doorstep.
“Are you trying to mow me down?” she asked, frowning.
“Oh, I do apologize, ma’am, I was just, erm, I was just catching the delicious smells coming from your shop.” Artas blushed as he stuttered his words.
“This is the best bread in the city, if not the whole of Mirnee. Freshly made by Ma and Pa who get up at the crack of dawn so the likes of you can taste something real good,” she said, still not breaking a smile.
“I’m sure it is, but how can I taste it if you’re standing in my way?” Artas blurted out.
“Why didn’t you say so?” she stepped aside so he could enter. “If you have money in your pockets, you are welcome into my shop.”
He stepped inside and was greeted by a wonderful concoction of aromas that made his stomach grumble. He bought a long thin stick of bread that was still warm. She tried to persuade him to buy some sweet buns and fruit tarts, but he explained that he had somewhere to go and could not eat it all so quickly.
“Ahh, you have bought a Mirnee stick, delicious,” Ganry said, taking it off him and breaking it in two, passing one half back to Artas. Both busily chewed on the delici
ous crusty bread as they set off through the market and into the town, in search of Ganry’s friend.
7
The warm bread filled a deep hole in Artas’s stomach, making him yearn for some meat, but they were leaving the lovely smells behind. He followed Ganry out of the market as they began to climb a steep hill.
“This city is built in layers, the higher you go, the more wealthy the residents. As we climb, we will pass through a gate to the next level,” Ganry explained the layout to his companion. “At the top you will find the Emperor’s palace and grounds and nothing else. The layer prior to that holds the barracks of the Emperor’s guards and quarters for invited guests. As you work your way down, there will be a merchants layer, full of the largest houses, and…”
“I get it, I get it,” Artas puffed back at him. “I can’t believe they built this city on a mountain. How many layers do we have to climb?”
“We’re going up to the merchant’s layer. My, erm… friend is wealthy. He is a caring and kind man. If he is still there, he will welcome us into his home.”
They did not linger as Ganry rushed them higher up into the city. Artas would love to have stopped and looked around, but all he got to see was a poor area with ramshackle structures. Then another market, though this one was mainly for livestock with bulls, horses, and sheep. It had a typical country smell swirling in the air and sticking in the nostrils. As they entered each layer, Artas wondered at how they did not get lost. The streets were narrow with many alleyways, almost as intricate as a maze.
They passed through a set of double gates and arrived at a public park with a small boating lake. The air felt fresher and the sun still shone over their heads. Ganry no longer led him in a upwards spiral, they now walked through this section. They entered a tree-lined road with large walls. Behind the walls were huge houses set back on large grounds. This was certainly more spacious than some of the poorer areas they had seen.
