Champion

by Jon Kiln

  Rochmyr picked up the boy and placed him on his shoulders. They walked off towards the castle keep where the food was being served, for a giant has a hefty appetite. Ganry watched, a little bemused at the strange sight of a nine foot man, with a small albino boy upon his shoulders. He would indeed be a formidable bodyguard for the boy, providing his intentions were true.

  Night falls quickly at this time of year, and soon most of the castle grounds were empty of busy people. Many had retired to their sleeping quarters, others to the drinking establishments that remained open inside the castle walls. It had been a difficult few days and they needed the release from the stresses of battle. The touch of alcohol would provide that, and the company of close and trusted friends. The only movement came from the castle guards who walked on the battlements, watching the surrounding area for signs of danger.

  Ganry sat high upon the turrets with Artas, who had his bow at the ready. A movement down in one of the courtyards caught the younger man’s attention. It was by the temporary infirmary and morgue. From this distance and in the half twilight, Artas could not be certain, but he swore he could see movement there.

  “Artas, look. Down there.” Ganry pointed to the same spot he had also seen movement. “Ready your bow, I think something is amiss,” Ganry ordered.

  Artas knew where Ganry was pointing, but when he looked again he noticed nothing. Perhaps their eyes were deceiving them in this murky light. Yet, the longer he stared, the more he too felt that something was there.

  “There is something, yes, look at the tent doorway. Could it be….?” Artas said, unable to finish his sentence as a chill of horror crept over him.

  “Yes,” Ganry confirmed his fears, “the damn witches have raised our fallen compatriots. Quickly. Shoot for the heads. Now boy, now,” Ganry cried out. “Keep shooting them, Artas, I’ll get down there as quickly as I can,” he said as he flew down the stone stairwell, calling for some of the guards to follow him.

  They made their way towards the death tent.

  Artas was quick with his bow, a skill he had learned as a young boy by his father. His aim was true and soon many of the undead fell with one of his arrows buried in their skulls, but there were too many, he could not shoot them all. With a growing horror he watched. From the infirmary a young woman emerged. He recognized her as one of the helpers of the wounded. She walked straight into the midst of the creatures, and was quickly surrounded. Her pitiful screams rang out in Artas’s ears. He continued to fire off more arrows, but he could not save her. Her body crumpled onto the floor, and the ungodly creatures fell upon her.

  Ganry and the guards soon arrived, as did the wolves, alerted by the woman’s screams. Quickly, they set about the undead. Once again, the ground around them was littered with the headless bodies that lay still as death.

  “Bah! This is a poor way to have to treat our fallen colleagues. They have given their lives for their Kingdom and now they are defiled by those damn witches,” Ganry exclaimed as Artas arrived.

  The soldiers looked around, shocked, at the pile of decapitated corpses. They knew many of these men, had fought side by side. They were men who had given their lives courageously in defense of their Kingdom. This should not be happening, they should not have to suffer this indignity.

  “I can cast a spell on the grounds of the castle,” Grecia told Ganry. “At least then, should a human die within these walls, they can rest in peace, safe from the wiles of the witches.”

  “Do what you can to stop this vile abuse of our comrades,” Ganry said, his face looking old and tired after the day’s events.

  “I will need to leave behind three of my shamans to hold the spell. That will be three less on the battle ground,” she said.

  “Better that than risking the Queen and the boy to the undead,” Ganry replied, relieved that something could be done to stop this madness, at least within the castle walls.

  “I have received a message,” Grecia told Ganry, before he walked away. “I was just about to find you to convey what the witches have told me.”

  “What? Do you say that they have spoken with you?” Ganry was surprised. He knew she had not found the clan of witches when last they had searched.

  “No, we have not spoken, but I have received a message. It was while I slept. Their power is strong and I am at my weakest when in slumber. They wish to speak with us, outside the castle gates. They assure me that they will not attack.”

  “It has to be a trick!” Artas spoke up, trying to convince Ganry. It was madness to think they would not attack him. These people had no honor, lying was just one of many dishonorable acts.

  “I believe they seek to retreat, if they can,” the wolf shaman said. “Their numbers are diminishing and there are only so many dead they can call upon. Yesterday’s events dealt their plans a heavy blow. Whereas we can gather in more soldiers, as this is our homeland, if needs be.”

  “So, why don’t they just retreat?” Ganry asked.

  Grecia thought on his question for a few seconds, before responding.

  “I’m not certain. They perhaps hope to convince us to give them the boy. Their whole strategy depends on him. One last throw of the dice, maybe?”

  “I will parlay with them,” Ganry agreed. “Anything to delay or stop this madness. Let’s try and determine their intentions.”

  “I can’t help but think, this will not end well,” Artas interrupted.

  Riley emerged into the group, hearing Artas’s warning. “What are you both discussing?” he asked. “I’ve just heard what happened here. Did we lose many?”

  “The witches raised our dead, but the wolves have counteracted their spell,” Ganry explained to his new battle friend. “Artas, go rest,” Ganry said, sending the young man away. “Riley, I will sleep at your side as you watch the wall. Wake me at the crack of dawn. I need to prepare for a meeting with our enemy.”

  32

  “The General has arrived,” Cronos said to Queen Myriam as they sat eating a breakfast of breads and cheeses.

  “You mean he’s at the gate?” she asked, puzzled by this statement.

  “Yes, and he has come with only two soldiers by his side,” the boy replied.

  “Then let us go greet him, immediately,” she said, before calling one of the servants to go in search of Ganry and inform him of the new development.

  By the time the Queen’s retinue had arrived on a balcony overlooking the main gate, it was already opening. There was no sign of Ganry as yet.

  General Jeon rode into the castle grounds with only two men to guard him. Whilst he hated his son’s killer, Ganry, he knew him to be honorable and that they would not slay him, just yet.

  As he dismounted, Ganry was observing from another window. He stood in the room where he had instructed the guards to bring the General to. He had also sent out a message to the Queen and to Grecia, so they could be present at the meeting about to take place.

  Grecia arrived first, and without speaking, she took her seat at a long table. She also had a couple of wolf men with her. They were her Seconds and would also serve to help her if this General tried any magic trickery. No one trusted this meeting. What could these witches possibly hope to achieve for there would be no forgiveness on the part of the wolves.

  The General was brought up to the room. As he entered, he looked around to see who was in attendance. Ganry nodded and pulled out a chair, to which the General approached and seated himself at the end of the table. Others, who had been invited, began to arrive, with the Queen coming through the doors last. She brought in the albino boy, Cronos. He might only be eight years old, but this involved him directly. It was right for him to be here.

  Ganry watched General Jeon closely. He appeared to look startled when he saw the boy.

  Once all were seated, Ganry stood to speak.

  “You are not welcome in the Kingdom of Palara, General Jeon, and we would request that you take your soldiers, and your witches, out of our lands.”

  �
�The boy is to come with us. We wish only to take him back to his own lands of Mirnee. What right have you to hold him here? I consider it an act of kidnap, resulting in war!” The General said, his voice rising with every word until he was almost shouting at Ganry. He banged his hand on the wooden table, to emphasize his anger at Palara for taking the Emperor’s son as prisoner. “You will hand him over, now!”

  “I hardly think that you’re in a position to make demands, General,” Queen Myriam said, calmly.

  “You have no right to hold this boy prisoner,” the General said, directly to the Queen. His ice cold eyes yielding no fear.

  “Let us stop playing games, Jeon,” Ganry said, not willing to continue with this farce. “We all know that the Emperor placed the boy in the safe hands of the wolf people for protection. Let’s move on from this pretense. Why are you really here?”

  “Queen Myriam, your people are dying out there,” the General turned to speak with Myriam, once again. “We will continue to murder your citizens if you persist in being involved. The boy is not your problem. This is a political issue that concerns Mirnean leaders only. Your actions can be construed as an aggressive act and we are well within our rights to declare war on an aggressor. Is this what you really want Queen Myriam? If so then you are being badly advised. Give us the boy and we will leave your lands.”

  “It is I that should be declaring war, General Jeon.” The Queen stood and faced the tall Mirnean General, a steely determination in her eyes. “You have invaded my lands. You are killing my people and with some evil magic spell, you are then desecrating their bodies. You, General, are already at war. The boy remains in safe hands and will be protected from you, at all costs.”

  “Your foolish pride will cost your people dearly. You will have no population left by the time I have finished. As for you, Ganry de Rosenthorn, I will have the greatest of pleasure running my sword through your heart when next I find you on the battlefield.”

  “You are being duped, Jeon,” Ganry said in a quiet tone, trying to calm the General. “When your son returns, the body will be an empty shell. It will not be him. Thankfully, his soul has already passed on to the next life. What you propose to do is not out of love, but out of your own selfish needs. You are a fool.”

  The Genera stood, his face red with anger, his hand on his sheathed sword hilt. “I will happily end your life, here and now. You are a traitor to your land of birth, and your cowardice resulted in the loss of my son.”

  Ganry, his own anger rising, stood his ground, his hand ready to unsheathe his own sword, if necessary. If only the General would listen to reason, but it was clear he was beyond any rationality.

  “Stop this nonsense, both of you,” a voice shouted out. The Duchess D’Anjue entered the room. “General Jeon, you will behave in a manner expected of someone of your rank, or be a guest in our dungeons!” she said calmly, but authoritatively. “Ganry, lay down your arms, this is not the time or place for you to be disloyal to your Queen.”

  The General still bristled, his anger now completely out of control.

  “While your wife and child burned alive, I listened to their screams,” Jeon spat at a shocked Ganry. “My revenge will never be complete until you are dead.” He let go of his sword and turned to leave.

  Ganry stood there stunned, a rage burning inside of him. He had never suspected the General was complicit in his wife and daughter’s death. Always believing the official version that they had died at the hands of bandits. Now, he knew the truth, and it burned him inside with a hatred of the man standing before him. It took all his willpower not to kill Jeon right where he stood.

  As Jeon passed through the doorway, he turned sharply and spoke to the boy, Cronos. “You would do yourself a favor if you left this place and came to us voluntarily. Fewer would die. Do you want their deaths on your conscience?”

  “Leave now, General, before I forget the honor of my family and have you thrown in the dungeons and executed for your crimes against my people!” Queen Myriam ordered. “Guards, see him out of the castle.”

  The General and his bodyguards were quickly surrounded by Palaran soldiers. He was marched away, but the threat of death loomed over their heads while they remained in the castle grounds.

  Ganry stood and watched, seething with rage. His body trembled as he attempted to control his emotions. He felt a small, soft hand slide into his own blistered, hardened fingers. When he looked down, it was Cronos who had moved to his side.

  The boy said nothing, but Ganry felt an inner peace run through his mind and body. His rage dampened and the red mist before his eyes lifted. Cronos had used his gifts to reach him, simply by touching him he had eased his inner pains. The General’s words had brought back the sharp memory of his beautiful wife and daughter. It had jolted the deep pain as he once again felt their loss.

  The heartbreaking memory had never really left him, but he had coped with the pangs of sadness following their deaths. But now that he had learned the truth, the torment felt as if it had only happened yesterday. His life now had new meaning, no longer was it the faceless bandits that lived in his dreams. He knew who their true murderer was. Soon, very soon, he would dig the blade of his sword into that wicked and cruel heart, and extinguish the life of the man who had done so, to theirs.

  33

  “You should have kept him here and executed him,” Artas said as he stood talking to Myriam. “It’s not as if they play fair, or even by any rules.”

  “The temptation to do so was strong, Artas. We had a responsibility to the rules of a parley. It is a sacred tradition that no harm should come to those who are involved,” she replied quietly. “Besides, Ganry does not need my help in seeking his revenge. He will find the time and place to avenge his family.”

  Artas looked over at his mentor who appeared completely drained. All had heard the words that the General had ushered about his family. It was he who had them burned alive in their own home. He had considered it a punishment for the death of his own son. Jeon was blind to the truth that his son, Porteus, had died by his own foolishness. The fault could not be laid at Ganry’s feet. Though his grief was great, he remained oblivious to the facts of his son’s own stupidity.

  “It is because it is his son who died,” a small voice said to him.

  “Cronos,” Artas said in surprise. “Can you read my mind?”

  “In a way,” he explained. “I do not know your exact thoughts, just a general idea. Your thoughts were strong with raw emotions so I can better understand what you are feeling. You have a great respect for your mentor. But, remember, the General had a great love for his son, and this is what blinds him so. He has been promised by the witches that if he delivers me to them, they will return him. He cannot accept his son’s death, and therefore continues to be fooled.”

  “You are a wise one for such a small boy,” Artas said, slightly taken aback by his thoughts being read.

  “It is not wisdom, Artas, just the truth. It speaks to me and it cannot be denied.”

  Artas felt a shadow loom over him. When he looked up it was the giant who entered the room. He moved to Cronos and gently scooped him up, placing him on his shoulders. Together they were so tall that the boy’s head almost touched the ceiling.

  “My new guardian is a little overprotective at the moment,” Cronos laughed at Artas’s amazed expression.

  This was the first time Artas had seen Rochmyr close up. Previously, it was from a distance when he seen him enter the castle gates. He was a huge man, towering above even the tallest Palaran soldier. It was a great relief that he was now on their side as he would not want to meet him on the field of battle.

  “I am jealous, young Cronos. I would dearly like a warrior such as him, protecting me on the battlefield. Perhaps we could come to some arrangement?”

  They both laughed at the joke, even the giant smiled briefly, before he carried Cronos out of the door, bending sharply so they could pass under the mantle. Artas knew it was a good thing
that this small Emperor was making close companions, for he had a long and busy life ahead of him.

  ***

  Ganry was not fully aware of what was going on around him. He noticed the giant lifting the boy Cronos, but mainly his vision was hazy. Retreating into his inner thoughts, he was remembering better times. A time when he was a husband and a father to a beautiful wife, and an adorable little girl. How could anyone purposely murder them in such a horrific way? Killing Jeon was all he could think about. Even then, he wished he could make him suffer before doing so, rather than simply ending his life with a clean thrust of his sword.

  Ganry’s family had been innocents, whereas Jeon’s son had died through his own actions. It was bound to happen, sooner or later. How could Jeon not see the truth of the matter? His grief had blinded him badly, and driven him to murder innocent people. The General wished to be with his son again, well, Ganry intended on making sure he joined him. They could live together forever in the afterlife.

  “Your wife and daughter do not seek revenge, Ganry,” a small voice interrupted his heavy thoughts. “They wish only for you to go on living. There is time for you to be with them, but that time is not now.”

  “Cronos,” Ganry exclaimed, knowing the boy had left the room. He realized that the voice was in his head. “You cannot speak of my family. You cannot know what they want,” he replied, in his own thoughts.

  “I have spoken to your daughter, Ruby, and she tells me her mother wants you to live through this mad event. They will wait for you, but time has no meaning to them. You have much yet to do here in this world.” Ganry had a vision of Myriam that Cronos put in his mind. “Others still need your help.”

  “How can you know my daughter’s name?” Ganry was becoming agitated at the boy, and anger inflicted the tone of his voice, even though it was still only in his thoughts.