Hardened faces and armored attire exposed the strangers as fighters, in Pertinax’s eyes at least.
The dozen armed men bearing crude and rusty iron weaponry were oblivious to their impending fate. Their leather and padded armor and rusty helmets would prove little hindrance to the Parthans, even though they themselves were not armed any better. Their attitude and lack of coordination betrayed their identity as mere bandits who made a living preying on unprepared travelers.
Confident that the Ona’s skill in battle would place them in a sufficiently advantageous position, Pertinax decided to announce his presence in search for knowledge. The cloaked captain revealed himself by greeting, “Hail!”
The bandits, shocked by the stranger, stood and drew their weapons in preparation for violence, rusty iron clinging. One of them moved towards Pertinax and casually said, with a hardened coarse voice and an equally rugged tone, “Looks like we don’t need to go very far to hunt, boys!” The man smiled.
“I only seek information regarding these lands, friend. Perhaps we can work some arrangement to benefit the both of us.” Pertinax stood casually - too casually for a man facing foes, Ganis thought – and had his hand resting on the tilted sharpened staff.
“How about this ‘arrangement’?” He looked back at his men and smiled, revealing a set of exceedingly decayed teeth, “Give me all you have, and I’ll think about letting you live.” The bandits burst into menacing laughter.
“So be it.” Pertinax raised his arm, gesturing a command to his hidden cloaked allies who unleashed half a dozen arrows from the cover behind him. His stance never changed and his hand never strayed from the staff.
Two of the bandits dropped immediately, each with three arrows protruding from their chest. Then a roar signaled the arrival of Sigurd, a monstrously large bald man, who slashed away at the enemies with his dagger and a wooden staff nearly as tall as he was.
Once a foe was struck down by Sigurd, he grabbed the ownerless rusty sword while the lifeless carcass fell bloodied and soiled. Sigurd was now properly armed. The warrior slashed and hacked to protect Pertinax’s side and remained in this position. A bear fighting cubs.
Then Hephaestion entered the skirmish, firing an arrow into the right eye socket of another bandit. In one swift swoop he reached for the stock in his quiver and drew his second arrow, standing ready by Pertinax’s other side in perfect stillness.
Ganis watched the Parthans fight in their organized manner which left the enemy confused and helpless. Not all of her companions were given an opportunity to show their skill, but she saw enough to determine the exemplary level in which the Ona fought. The bandits never had a chance.
Throughout the fight, Monolos and Eirene remained behind to protect the pups they had picked up earlier. Judging from how the fight went, their involvement was not necessary.
The only enemy left alive was the bandit leader who had addressed Pertinax earlier. The man had the tendons of his legs and right arm cut. Although he was knowingly experiencing the last moments of his sinful life he plead for mercy – a mercy he never gave to those who begged it from him.
“You will now tell me everything I want to know, if you do not mind,” grabbing his comb to fix his hair, Pertinax said. His voice was calm and calculating.
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” the bandit said, crying with fear and agony.
“Who are you?”
“I go by the name of Scavenger, and I lead…led this group of cutthroats. We preyed on travelers heading to Hearthdale.”
“Where is Hearthdale?”
“A half day’s march from here towards the direction you were heading. It’s a small community that has no means of defending itself except by hiring mercenaries and bounty hunters. Please show mercy!”
“Is there a bounty on your heads?” Sigurd interfered.
“Yes, it’s not much though. I can turn myself in if you want. Please don’t kill me.”
“Tell me, Scavenger, how often is it that you showed mercy to those who pleaded it from you as you do from me now?” Pertinax’s question caused no response from the bandit save for his widening eyes.
“Thank you for your cooperation. You have earned my mercy.” Pertinax signaled a gesture to Sigurd and the Turian slashed at the prisoner’s neck; decapitating him in one swoop with the rusted blade.
Ganis watched in shock, and lust for blood, as everything she thought about Pertinax was proved wrong. His fairness and kindness were now in question. The flowing blood made it difficult for Ganis to control her urge to gluttonize on the fresh corpses, but Asclepius’ training proved stronger than the lust.
While Sigurd was bagging the bandit’s heads and the others looted the corpses, stripping them of all they could use, Ganis heard a faint whisper coming from one of the sealed packages resting on a large tree nearby.
She approached a leather-covered object and held it towards her ear. The whisper faded into silence, making her doubt ever hearing the sound. Curious, she opened it to find a masterwork sword. The steel blade glowed with a silver shine, except for its blackened edges and hilt wrapped in brown leather strips which formed two loose laths dangling from it. Ganis had never seen a weapon as beautiful as the blade she held in her hands; and she had seen a fair share of weapons.
Ganis called for Pertinax to report her finding. Once he approached, she showed him the blade, “I found this. It is a fine weapon.” She eyed it admiringly.
Grabbing the artful sword and artistically holding it in the light for a better look, Pertinax said, “Indeed a fine blade.” The captain then shouted, “Thalia!”
The artisan quickly came towards her leader who offered her the blade, “A fine blade.” She then examined it closely to determine the quality of its make and its sturdiness. “The edges are sharp and the balance perfect.”
“As the one least attuned to our Ona, Ganis will wield the blade,” Pertinax announced. He then handed the blade to Ganis and advised, “Use it wisely.”
“I’ll make a fitting sheath for your new blade. What name will you give it?” Thalia asked, blue eyes fixed on Ganis.
“A blade of this quality has certainly been given a name once. Until I find it, it will remain unnamed.”
Thalia nodded in agreement.
It did not take the Parthans long to pack their loot and resume their journey towards Hearthdale, the town on the edge of the forest. At last they had a destination.
6
Hearthdale was a small quiet village located at the edge of the eastern forest of Utyirth. The town had many wooden scaffolds neatly placed around the inhabited wooden structures, of which all had been cleared from snow. At the entrance of the undefended town, a noisy inn and a trader’s shop greeted the visitors.
All buildings were entirely constructed with wood lodged from the nearby forest and had tilted roofs, owing their make to the rainy and snowy climate of Utyirth. A snow-covered path marked by footprints indicated the roads attaching the structures of Hearthdale together.
The populace greeted the strangers warmly in spite of being armed, a reaction Ganis did not expect. Pertinax casually led his hooded crew into the loud inn.
The large structure’s interior was simple, matching its exterior. Round wooden pillars supported the second floor as well as the roof.
Various tables of different sizes and shapes occupied the central area of the lobby, which was used to serve food and beverages to the patrons. Like the tables, there was no conformity in the design of the wooden chairs. At the corner near the entrance of the inn, a bartender prepared drinks for the customers. Facing the bar was a railless wooden staircase leading to the second floor where rooms for rent were prepared for customers.
Pertinax and his escorts walked into the tavern and headed towards the largest empty table with seating for six. Sigurd, Ganis, Monolos, Dindrane and Percival remained standing while the others sat. With a mere eye gesture, Monolos got permission to be relieved. He left his leather bag behind a
nd departed, as Percival and Dindrane started to mingle.
“Take Ganis with you to collect the bounty,” Pertinax commanded Sigurd, producing the comb to ensure his white hair was properly fashioned.
Sigurd immediately took leave with his bulky package, red marking its bottom. Following her quiet companion, Ganis clumsily ambulated towards the bartender.
“Where do I collect bounty?” with no introductions or greeting formalities, Sigurd asked the barkeep, green eyes staring intently. His gaze reminded Ganis of a lion’s when on the prowl.
Shocked and frightened by Sigurd’s straight-forwardness, the man replied, voice shaking and hands tucked under the wooden bar, “Bounties are collected in the Guard House. Once you exit the inn, you will find it on your left. A carved wooden plank indicating the structure is placed atop of the entrance.”
The Guard House was located, as indicated by the bartender, to the left of the inn. Ganis found herself staring at another wooden building surrounded by a short crude stone fence. Other than indicating the perimeter of the Guard House, the stone wall had no practical use.
Sigurd entered the Guard House without taking a moment to check the sign which had been described by the bartender earlier. Ganis noticed the similarity between the written language and that of Nosgard, an observation that Sigurd noticed, but did not care about.
Internally, the Guard House was identical to the inn the Parthans had visited earlier, except for the bar, tables and chairs. The locals were not a creative people, Ganis though.
Three square tables were centered parallel to the walls with two chairs placed between each wall and its corresponding table. A weapon rack equipped with crude iron short swords decorated the walls to the right of the entrance, while another rack ahead of it had five bows and seven quivers, each containing ten poorly-crafted arrows. To the right of the entrance, a parchment with a few names and figures hung on a wooden plank.
A few, poorly armed men and women engaged in idle conversation while they waited for the end of their shifts. Sigurd immediately headed towards them and said, “Where can I collect bounty?”
The five guardsmen looked at the Turian with shocked expressions and one of them replied, “Bounties are turned in here and collected from the Hearthwarden. Have you captured one of the criminals on that list?” The guardsman pointed at a list containing names, of which some were accompanied by poorly-drawn sketches.
Sigurd headed to the nearest wooden table and slammed the large blood-stained leather bag he carried on it, opening it to reveal its bloody contents. Not used to many successful bounty hunters, the guards were petrified with disbelief.
“Who’re these?” a guardsman asked.
“A man who referred to himself as Scavenger and his band,” Ganis quickly replied.
One of the guardsmen - the captain, Ganis though - clumsily headed to the wooden table opposite to the door and immediately started writing on an empty yellowed parchment with a feather, inking the feather as it dried. Once he had finished, he used the red candle lighting the room to stamp the note shut with his seal ring.
“Take this note and give it to the guard protecting the Heart of the Hearth. It’s the circular building in front of this one. You should be paid a total of one-hundred-and-fifty-five oboi, one hundred for Scavenger and another fifty-five for his companions.
“Please feel free to scan the wanted list if you’re interested in other jobs. These criminals are beyond our ability to manage.” Shaking, the inexperienced guard handed the sealed note to Sigurd, who took it with a grunt earning him weary looks from the guardsmen.
Sigurd and Ganis headed towards the central structure to collect their bounty without further exchanging words. Ganis’ keen hearing allowed her to hear the murmur of the impressed guards while they left, “Who are these folk?”
“Ganis!” a hissing sound addressed the moroi. She suddenly stopped and looked at her rugged comrade while asking, “Did you say something?”
Continuing to walk toward the Heart of the Hearth, Sigurd shook his head sideways, not even glancing at her direction. It was not him.
I must be exhausted from all the traveling, so exhausted that I’m hallucinating, Ganis thought.
Once they reached the central structure, Sigurd handed the sealed note to the man guarding the stone building. The seal indicated the purpose of the note to the guard.
Without hesitation, he rushed into the round building, leaving his companion alone with the two Parthans. A few moments later a man wearing a rusty suit of iron armor, clinging as he moved, appeared and introduced himself, “Greetings travelers! I’m the Hearthwarden, elected leader of this town–”
Sigurd interrupted the man, “Where’s our bounty?”
The mayor pulled a large coin purse from inside his red cape and handed it over to the quick-tempered Parthan. “Come back anytime.” Frightened by the veteran bounty hunters, the mayor refrained from tempting their seemingly violent nature with anything he thought they could interpret as provocation.
Sigurd shot a glance at Ganis; it was an order to take and carry the purse. Once their pay was in their possession, the Parthans returned to the inn where their comrades waited.
Ganis immediately headed to the round table where Pertinax and the others sat. She rushed towards them and placed the heavy coin purse on the table, “We got paid, yet I don’t know what value it’s worth here.”
“I have already arranged for our accommodation. Three rooms are being prepared as we speak.” Without any other additions to convey, Pertinax continued to discuss the works of Soren the Wise, one of Nosgard’s great philosophers, with Hephaestion.
With no more assignments, Ganis took the opportunity to observe her comrades. Percival sat on the bar and engaged in a flirty conversation with two waitresses. Like her brother, Dindrane mingled with the male clients. Although the twins had been gathering information regarding their missions, they seemed to be enjoying themselves. It was not work to them.
Except for Monolos, the other Parthans sat with Pertinax and listened to the heated debate, yet not intently. Monolos was nowhere to be found. Yet Ganis knew that he was accompanied by his hawk and the three pups.
It was not long before a waitress appeared from the second floor and informed Pertinax that their rooms were ready. The news brought rest to Ganis, who did nothing but strolled around the inn, attempting to appear busy.
Without speaking, the Parthans took their equipment and retired to their rented quarters. The stairs led to a corridor on the second floor with ten doors, five on each side. Dark wooden planks used to construct the buildings in Hearthdale decorated the floor, walls and ceiling. How dangerous, Ganis though at the prospect of spending a night in such a flammable structure.
The men automatically entered the room on the right, and the four women entered the second. Pertinax reserved a room by himself.
Inside their simple quarters were four beds and one large closet. Each wooden bed was covered with a yellowish white fabric, with its unique pattern of stains. The edges of the wooden furniture were rough and uneven. There was a small window with murky glass that allowed the setting sun to light the room. Candles were placed on uneven rusty iron bars protruding from the walls. The bedcovers and curtains were made of the same coarse fabric which Gains was certain would irritate Eirene’s soft fair skin; a thought not entirely unpleasant to her.
Exhausted from their journey, the warrior women immediately undressed and uncovered their beds. Beneath the rough bedcover were soft clean sheets, contradicting the rest of the material around them. With no fear of ambush or other threats, the Parthans allowed themselves to sink into a deep and much needed sleep.
7
The Siren’s Tear had just set sail, before Ganis set foot on Utyirth. She was contemplating her training with Asclepius back in Katabasis when she was interrupted by the twins, Percival and Dindrane. The two redheads approached her merrily as they shared jokes and giggles amongst themselves. Both had long red braide
d hair tucked into the back of their shirts. They were small of stature, a good build for swiftness.
At first, Ganis thought that they were just passing by, but then they came and stood beside her as they leaned on the edge of the ironwood deck. Ganis found herself surrounded by the two twins whom she knew nothing about; and only recently identified them as part of Pertinax’s crew.
“That stiff captain of ours ordered us to talk to you,” Percival said.
“Brother, that’s a rude way of approaching a lady. Have I taught you nothing?”
“Apologies. You look rather ravishing this evening, milady.” He bowed courteously, yet humorously. “May I offer you a drink?” Percival produced a well-abused steel flask, scratched and dented from all sides, and held it up to Ganis, revealing a tree-like pattern which appeared to Ganis as a once-beautiful inscription.
“Careful! I’m not one to be taken lightly and accustomed to so quickly,” rather annoyed by his overly friendly approach, Ganis confronted the young man. She had grown intolerant by hunger.
Flicking his red braided hair which had come undone with his bow off of his right shoulder, Percival bowed apologetically to Ganis. When he rose again, Ganis noticed the subtle grey color of his eyes. “I was only intending to convey a friendly demeanor to our newest comrade. Forgive us, we are not yet accustomed to your likes and dislikes.”
“I hope my brother has not bothered you, for he always assumes that others would not mind his directness.”
“I apologize for behaving with such hostility. I was just dwelling on a painful experience,” while turning to face Dindrane, Ganis said. She took the opportunity to observe the woman’s features more thoroughly. The siblings shared the exact same features with the only difference being the influence their gender had on their bodies. Percival was slightly taller and more muscular, but the difference was negligible.
Book of Kayal: Strength of Unity Page 3
