by Jon Kiln
Queen Myriam was there to greet them. She had been overseeing the arrival of the family mural from the Duchess’s destroyed castle. Myriam approached Ganry and the boy. She welcomed Ganry back and introduced herself to Cronos.
“Welcome to Castle Villeroy, Master Cronos. You will be safe here until we can reunite you with your father.”
Cronos smiled at the queen, but said nothing, his attention was taken by the mural that was being laid out. Myriam, seeing his interest, nodded her approval, and Cronos ran to look at the stones. He seemed fascinated with the images depicted in the ancient stones.
Ganry bowed before Myriam, but soon formalities were forgotten. They were old friends with mutual respect, and had been through much together. Queen Myriam saw Ganry almost as a father, and Artas, her younger brother.
“Artas, how have you fared?” she asked, her brow knitted with a frown of worry. “You did not look well when you arrived back from Mirnee.”
“Indeed, I was not well, Myriam. I had been possessed by those wretched witches,” he told her, almost relieved to get the news off his chest.
Myriam looked at Ganry for an explanation.
“He tells the truth of the matter,” Ganry confirmed his tale. “That’s how they managed to track us on our journey. It was thanks to the wolf shaman, Grecia, that he is now free of their evil deed.”
At that point, Grecia had approached the group. Upon hearing her name, she curtseyed before the queen in respect, as she knew it was the human tradition to do so.
“I see I must thank you, Grecia,” Myriam smiled at her in greeting. “Artas is very precious to me. Our families have been through much together.”
“It is his young age that made him vulnerable,” Grecia explained. “It would have been more difficult to possess a mind of more experience, especially over a distance.”
“I thank your people for coming to our aid in this time of need for Palara.” Myriam was pleased the wolf people had come to help. “I am receiving daily reports of the armies of corpses. Usually there are not many in number, but the worst of it is, they consist of our own people. Those who have been killed by the witches and then raised against us. The whole situation seems uncontrollable.” Myriam looked deeply concerned as she turned to Ganry. “Hendon is out there, doing all he can to combat their magic, but he is alone, and they are many.”
“Fear not Queen Myriam, magic can be beaten with magic. You have more allies now, and we will go to Hendon’s aid.”
“I will get word to him,” Myriam, said, “although I doubt he’ll stop. He is a man close to nature and understands what an abomination these undead truly are. Knowing him as I do, I imagine he will do all he can to put them to rest.”
“This coven of witches have very little respect for humans,” Grecia said. “They believe that the world is for those with magic and show disdain for those without. Should they succeed in raising Thalia, humans would become slaves or die resisting.”
A cry of urgency from the courtyard drew their attention. As they turned to investigate the ruckus, they could see a messenger on horseback. He shouted for the gates to be closed behind him. Dismounting, he quickly approached the Queen and her party. He had clearly ridden long and hard to get to the castle, and he swayed slightly as he stood. Ganry helped the messenger to remain standing so he could deliver his message to the queen.
“I am sent by Hendon, your majesty,” he said, taking deep gasping breaths between sentences. “He says to inform you that he could not contain them.” Again he paused while he caught his breath. “A large army of dead are approaching the castle, and as they march, more join them daily. Your own people are sent to destroy you, my Queen. You must lock down the castle or flee.”
“Take this man to rest and give him food and drink,” Ganry ordered one of the castle soldiers who stood close by.
“I am going to put the castle on lockdown,” Ganry told Myriam, who nodded her agreement.
“My people are at your disposal,” Grecia said, realizing the urgency. “We must get the boy inside. I have other shamans with me who know what to do, but we need chambers that are deep within the castle walls. No windows and thick walls. Though, it needs to be somewhere we can escape with the boy, if necessary.”
“I will take him to the underground chambers,” Myriam replied. “We have hidden passages that lead to various places throughout the castle. He will be safe there, or at least as safe as anywhere is in these times of madness.”
“Our kingdom depends on it,” Ganry added. “These witches must not get ahold of that child.”
Myriam nodded, and, hand in hand with the Emperor’s son, they walked towards the castle keep, followed by three of the wolf shamans.
“I must go and ensure all our walls are guarded. Your people are welcome to join me. I will disperse them among the castle guards,” Ganry said to Grecia.
Grecia spoke to one of her kind who had been by her side. Instructions were given and most of the wolves dispersed.
“We fight better in the open, Ganry, not in confined places. I am sending most of the pack out beyond the castle walls. I will be joining them, for we must hunt down these witches. If we can kill the witches who control these pitiful creatures, then and only then can the dead finally be laid to rest.”
“I will come with you,” Ganry said. “Give me an hour to organize the guard and we will set off. I must find General Jeon. If I can tell him the truth, I may convince him to stop this madness.”
“I doubt it, Ganry. General Jeon is too far gone. He believes he controls the witches, but it is in fact they who control him.” Grecia made to leave. “We will wait for you.”
26
Ganry stood on the castle battlements, overlooking the fields surrounding the castle. For as far as the eye could see, they were filled with the walking corpses who moved relentlessly towards them. What started as a small group had quickly turned into hundreds. He suspected most were Palaran citizens.
“My heart weeps for my people,” the queen’s voice spoke softly, behind him.
“Myriam, you should not be out in the open. You must go with the boy,” Ganry pleaded. “At the very least, you could escape though the tunnels if we’re overrun. Try to take him to safety, if any such place exists in these times.”
“I refuse to cower away with the children while my people are so defiled,” she reprimanded Ganry at such a suggestion. “We must put a stop to this. It’s time these witches faced our soldiers in battle, and not the innocent citizens who cannot defend themselves against evil witches.”
A wail of unspeakable misery rose from the assembled corpses, chilling everyone’s hearts. Queen Myriam shivered visibly.
“Myriam, you must go inside. The stench and noise is not for a queen to witness. I need to know you are safe. You must survive this if the gates come down. You are the Queen of Palara.”
“So my grandmother has reminded me, several times,” Myriam said, defiance in her eyes. “Ganry, how many Palarans will they kill before this madness ends?”
“I’m to go out today to find their General. The wolves will hunt for the witches. It will end one way or the other,” is all Ganry would commit to. “Now go, Myriam. You owe it to your people to remain safe. Should their Queen be killed, there is sure to be an all-out war with Mirnee. If it is possible, I hope to avoid that. This is not the fault of Mirnee, it is the fault of an evil coven of hags.”
The wails from the dead had reached a crescendo, sending even the bravest soldiers into a state of panic. Queen Myriam could see many of them were close to crumbling. She must do something quickly. She must talk to them. She climbed a raised platform to tower over the people on the ground, and she spoke as loud as she could.
“Soldiers of Palara, listen to me, listen now!” Myriam was shouting to be heard above the noise of the wailing dead. “Your kingdom calls on you because you are our last wall of defense. Should you fail, then the kingdom fails with you. The people in our lands will be stricken with the pr
oblems that Mirnee face. Our kingdom will become nothing but a memory, words in some historical tome. We must not allow this! We must stand together and fight this evil that threatens our nation. Some will not see the end of this day. They will never be forgotten and they will be written into the lore of our kingdom. Remember, you are brothers as you fight. Remember, the dead that are now ranked before you, they were once fellow Palarans. Let their deaths not be in vain. Our people are relying on you. Stand and do your duty. For your queen who stands with you! For your kingdom, send these evil witches into oblivion!”
The men cheered at her rousing words and most found new courage to face the battle ahead.
Ganry stood, impressed. He too had seen the morale crumble at the sight of so many undead creatures advancing on the castle. The queen’s speech had given them hope. Myriam had changed much over the last few years, from a slip of a girl to a confident monarch who commanded the respect of her people.
Myriam approached Ganry and Artas, and embraced them both, lovingly.
“Keep safe, my friends. If anything were to happen to either of you, I’m not sure I could continue.”
“You will be fine,” Ganry said. “You are truly the Queen of Palara. While you stand, so does the Kingdom. Now go, the men are roused and will fight to the death for you. Don’t make it pointless because you fall on these battlements.”
Myriam nodded and quickly headed to the underground chamber. As much as she was loath to leave them, she knew Ganry was right. If she died, then the kingdom would too.
The chambers under the castle were even more ancient then the castle itself. Once, the royal family had lived underground in these chambers. Those were the days when dragons ruled the world, and no human was safe above ground. Those dark days had lasted far too long and her royal ancestors had called upon the shape changers to help them rid their lands of the fire-breathing beasts. Together, they had fought until it was safe to live above ground. For their help, lands had been bequeathed to the shape changers within the safety of Palara.
Once the queen had left for safety, Ganry looked over the turrets at the highest point of the castle. The open fields before him were covered with the walking corpses. On one side, a huge forest, Hendon’s homeland, and on the other, the huge mountain range of Palara.
The skies above were becoming darkened as black clouds moved over the area. A thunder crack roared in the distance as lightning flashed over the peaks. A storm was moving in, though it was not clear if it was natural or created by dark magic. Were the witches making it as difficult as possible for the humans?
He looked down onto the masses of the dead, most of whom had severe injuries. Their deaths had been cruel. There would be a long and painful mourning period for the Kingdom of Palara, once this was over. If it was ever over.
The dead at the rear were relentlessly pushing forward, crushing those at the front against the gates and the castle walls. The pressure on the gates was immense. He just hoped that they would hold, for if the masses of the dead entered the castle, all would be lost.
He found Grecia waiting patiently for him with a small pack of wolves. They had already changed, but she was still in her human form. The wolves were majestic and powerful creatures, not only in stature and physical strength, but also of the inner magic they possessed. They were lithe but fearsome, and moved with a natural grace. There was no doubting their incredible abilities, and their courage in battle was legendary, but would it be enough? There were hundreds of walking corpses out there, and they numbered only a few.
“We have dallied long enough. Are you ready, Ganry? We must go,” she asked him, concern in her face at the delay. “If we do not act soon, this will not be a battle, it will be massacre.”
The dead did not fight as they had no coordination. They just moved on relentlessly, crushing, biting and tearing at any living flesh that got in their way. Their bodies were weak, many deformed from the blows that had killed them, and they were animated only by magic. The witches must be close by though, directing their army of undead onto the gate of the castle. If they were to break through, the end of the battle would be close. Ganry knew they had to avoid this happening at all costs.
Riley and Artas joined them, both armed and ready for battle.
“You stay, Artas,” Ganry ordered. “If the walls fall, then I rely on you to save the queen and the child.”
Artas was clearly disappointed. He had wanted to show his worth in battle, especially after what the witches had done to him. Ganry was right though, and it was pointless arguing with him.
“Take care, Ganry, and return to us. You have much still to teach me,” Artas smiled at his mentor, trying to lighten the mood.
“You protect Myriam at all costs. If we lose the castle, we may still fight another day. If we lose the queen, then all is lost. Do you understand this burden?”
Artas nodded his understanding. Saluting Ganry, he turned and made his way back to the men.
Ganry and Riley headed through an underground tunnel which would lead them outside the castle walls and into the thick forest. Once there, the wolves would leave Ganry, for they could move faster and make their way to the rear of the masses.
By the time Ganry and Riley arrived on foot, the wolves were busy battling with the undead, and already many headless corpses littered the ground. The wolves attacked as a pack, darting between the slow moving creatures, and with amazing speed, easily decapitated them with a snap of their jaws. Their attack was devastating, but still, there were far too many undead and too few wolves for this to be effective. They needed to find the witches, and General Jeon.
The undead, as if sensing life, turned from their relentless march forward and moved towards Ganry and Riley, advancing on them with a slow purposefulness. Others joined in as their numbers grew and soon they were surrounded by the walking corpses.
Both drew their swords and stood back to back. Despite their slowness, they were surprised at how easily they had been surrounded. If they weren’t careful, they would be overrun.
With a battle cry, Riley swung his sword in a wide arc and quickly decapitated two of the nearest corpses, their bodies crumpling to the ground in a heap. Others, behind, trampled over them, eager to get at the living beings in their midst.
Together, standing back to back, Ganry and Riley swung their blades back and forth, removing the heads of any creature that came within range. Before long, the advancing dead had to crawl over the bodies that piled up around them, almost as a protective wall. It was exhausting work as they came on relentlessly. Constantly, they were in danger of being overrun. Just as it seemed all was lost, a pack of wolves appeared and joined in the attack, snapping and snarling, biting into the ranks of undead. Ganry noted the silver strip of fur on the back of one of the wolves, and knew it to be Grecia. It was not the first time she had come to their aid.
The reinforcements eased the pressure on Riley and Ganry. They managed to move away from the advancing hordes as the wolves were relentless in their attack. Moving so quickly they were nothing but a blur. Bodies soon littered the field, their heads removed.
Ganry and Riley moved back for some respite.
Unexpectedly, they were suddenly surprised by a small group of dead who appeared out of the forest. One of them, a huge man with thick muscled arms, wrapped them around Riley’s chest, pinning his arms to his own sides. The creatures had mouths agape, readying to plunge their teeth into Riley’s exposed neck.
Riley could feel the cold clammy skin of the creature that had him trapped. With his arms clamped firmly, he was unable to free himself. He felt the chill of a cold fetid breeze as the creature’s face moved close to his. With one last desperate attempt, he pushed his head forward, avoiding the bite. With all his might, he thrust his head backwards and his skull crashed into the face of the creature. Riley had the satisfaction of hearing the crack of bones under the blow. The creature staggered backwards, releasing him, before it fell to the ground, motionless.
Ganry feinted and twisted his body, moving with the ease of an experienced fighter, a veteran of many battles. Never had his foe been so fearsome. His sword swung first one way then another, arcing through the air and cutting down any that stood in its way. Soon, the small group that had waylaid them had all felt the hard-edged steel of his sword, and they lay in a heap.
“We cannot stay here, Ganry,” Riley muttered, panting. “We will be overwhelmed.”
“We must find the witches and the General if we are to have any hope of winning. But, you’re right,” Ganry agreed. “Let’s fall back into the woods and search for the enemy’s camp. If we find that, then I’m certain General Jeon will not be far away.”
A loud horn could be heard in the distance. The undead stopped advancing, as if listening. Then they were seemingly drawn by the noise and began to shuffle towards the sound, moving away from the castle.
Ganry watched as the walking corpses moved off in the same direction. He and Riley stared at each other in surprise. With great relief, they laughed.
27
Myriam watched the strange young boy, Cronos Fontleroy. He looked much older in years than his given age of eight. He was meditating, sitting cross legged on a large cushion. It seemed a strange thing for a young boy to do, Myriam thought.
“I can watch the progress of the battle, if I concentrate,” he spoke to her as if he had read her mind. “I’m unsure how to help, just yet, but I will learn.”
“I apologize, young Cronos,” the Queen said. “I did not mean to stare, but it is unusual for a boy of your age to look so calm in a crisis.”
“The wolves have taught me how to control my emotions and use the gifts that have been bestowed on me.”
