Book of Kayal: Strength of Unity

by Stryker Nileson

  He contemplated the thought for a moment. “That might be worth an attempt. Tell me the chant and I will study it, but first I need to check the others.” Hephaestion continued to test the two remaining hounds.

  Remembering the fruits she had plucked earlier, Ganis said to Ninazu, “I found these while hunting. Are they edible?” She produced the fruit from a leather pouch she carried.

  He stood up from his cross-legged seating position and approached Ganis. Grabbing one of the soft fruits, he carefully observed it while gently squeezing it. Ninazu then bit into the fruit and chewed it. Shocked by the brevity of his examination, Ganis said, “Are you insane! You have no idea if it’s poisonous or not.”

  Ninazu continued to casually chew the juicy fruit while he looked at Ganis with a faint smile. Once he had finished chewing, soiling his thick black beard, he said, “Your body is not the only one resistant to such things.” He then turned around and raised the bitten fruit while announcing, “They’re safe to eat.”

  As Thalia skinned the boar and prepared to roast it, the others indulged in the sweet fruits Ganis brought. Hephaestion finished reading the other two hounds and reported that they too were Watchers. The new discovery raised the Parthans’ mood. The occasional mention of Pertinax was followed by a few moments of silence, but they would quickly recover and continue engaging in random idle conversation.

  7

  After spending a few days contemplating the carving for the three Watcher hounds, Hephaestion managed to devise a rune that was, at least, conceptually sound. It was unusual for carvers to attempt new runes with so little studying, but their entire situation was fittingly unusual.

  Well-read scholars, Hephaestion knew, were capable of identifying, to some degree of accuracy, the effects of etchings based on the chants hummed during the process. Rune-carving, after all, was an invention of the Elder and it was only rediscovered by the inhabitants of Nosgard ten generations ago.

  Hephaestion slowed his pace to match Eirene’s. Once he marched beside her, he said, “Do you think this carving would work?” the captain knelt down on one knee and, using his dagger, drew his hypothesized rune on a bare patch of ground amidst the snow.

  Observing the geometrical shape with all its rounded edges, Eirene asked, “Where will you carve it?”

  “Extending from the right ear to the throat.” He motioned his figure to where it will be using his own body to demonstrate.

  “A good place for a vocal augmentation,” she noted. “Yet it doesn’t address the issue of intelligence. Perhaps their minds are not fitted for speech.”

  “I trust that Ganis’ discovery answered this question, but there is no way we could be certain unless we try.”

  “You only get to try it once. Is it worth it?”

  “Dear Eirene, all discoveries are done with the risk of failure considered, and often deemed worth taking.”

  Overhearing the conversation, Monolos approached the two. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “We burn the slot and forever lose it.”

  “And the hound remains unhindered?”

  “Unhindered and unimproved,” Hephaestion said. At his words Monolos relaxed.

  “Then you have three attempts.” Monolos eyed the pups and pointed at one. “Start with Yellow-Eyes first. He’s the lucky one.”

  Having received the blessing of the caretaker and the priestess’ opinion, Hephaestion proceeded with the ritual. Before he could tattoo the designated area, Hephaestion had to shave it clean. The pup did not struggle, but the gesture was not appreciated.

  The Parthan then clutched his right hand and extended two fingers towards Yellow-Eyes. Hephaestion’s breath grew steady and deep as he focused on the chant. Not being accustomed to the ritual, it took him an alarmingly long period of time to complete it; long enough for Ganis to worry.

  Monolos held his breath while warily observing Yellow-Eyes getting his marking. A yellow light carefully crawled its way from the scholar’s finger tips and into the beast’s skin, pulsing from beneath. The light made its way towards Yellow-Eyes’ left ear as it fashioned the illustration which Hephaestion had made on the ground earlier. An artist working.

  Once the carving was complete, the marking glowed with a steady resonating pulse.

  Exhausted from the massive focus and mental stress required, Hephaestion collapsed. The Parthan exaggerated the effects the ritual had on his body. More than to rest, he wanted to lie down and stare at the cloudy sky for a moment. The others let him be.

  Monolos looked at the Watcher hound’s eyes while gently holding its head upward. “Can you speak, friend?”

  The pup attempted speech, but a distorted version of the word ‘friend’ was all it could say. It was a sign of a small measure of success, or perhaps coincidence. The carving had worked, to some extent, yet it remained to see just how well it did.

  “It takes a few hours to be able to use one’s carving. I expect it to take just as much, if not longer, with the hounds. We will camp here for the day and observe Yellow-Eyes carefully. If it…he shows more improvement, then we repeat the ritual with the others.” Hephaestion continued to lie on the soft ground, chest expanding with slow, deep breaths.

  The order was given and the day’s march was concluded early. The Parthans went on with their duties to set the camp, each knowing precisely what to do, and periodically returned to check on Yellow-Eyes.

  As time passed, and the pup practiced his new skill, the Parthans’ spirits rose. Yellow-Eyes’ many attempts did eventually succeed, but at the cost of gaining much ridicule as he mispronounced words he had never spoken.

  The veil of Pertinax’s death was lifted.

  8

  As night crawled deeper into the sky, the Parthans eased into their sleep, with Ganis on duty to ensure the night would pass without incident; and to wake them up should something occur.

  Ganis was resting on a lone leafless tree struggling to survive amidst the snow when she heard a feint sound emanating from a distance. Alarmed, she stood in a rush and went to investigate. The sounds guided her into the bushes, where small things crawled.

  Casually walking, sensing no imminent threat, towards the snow-covered shrubs, Ganis picked up a feint steady sound - two small racing hearts. A late night snack, she thought. With unnatural speed, she ran towards the source and leaped above it, declaring herself to the intruders.

  She never expected to find two orphans from Hearthdale in this part of the continent. She eased her stance and stood straight. “You could have gotten yourselves killed.” She eyed them wearily, making certain they were uninjured. When she was satisfied by their wellness, she asked, “Why have you followed us?”

  Shaking from cold and fear, the two children could produce no response, no matter how hard they tried. Realizing their susceptibility to the elements, a feeling she herself had forgotten, Ganis quickly engulfed them in her cold arms and carried them towards the camp, leaving them by the weakening fire too far ignored. She removed her warm black cloak and covered the children with it, making them snuggle together even more tightly. Keeping her distance from the two guests, Ganis fed the fire back to life.

  Amidst the commotion of a strengthening fire and the scurrying of feet, the Parthans awoke. In a few short moments they were completely alert and ready. Battling fatigue and exhaustion, they forced themselves into an early day.

  “What are you doing here, children?” Eirene asked, softly yet firmly.

  The children offered no response. They simply looked at Eirene, too scared to talk, and huddled even closer to one another.

  “Explain yourselves,” Eirene repeated. “Why have you ventured so far from home?”

  “We wanted to be close to you, Eirene,” the young and fragile boy responded. His yellow hair reflected the gentle rays of moonlight. Ganis clearly saw the sky-blue color of the boy’s eyes and admired them for a moment - an innocence lost to most adults. How hungry she grew at the sight of these children.

>   “Stupid children!” Sigurd blurted.

  He cares, Ganis thought.

  Eirene directed a judgmental gaze upon him and held it for a moment, as if intending to say that it was not proper of him. She then turned towards the children and knelt down, releasing a gentle smile matching her face, and said, “You must be exhausted. Rest. We will continue our little conversation when you wake up.” She leaned down and kissed them on the forehead, girl first.

  Eirene’s declaration relieved the Parthans. They would rest a little more before carrying forth. Hephaestion did not approve, but he acknowledged that they would need all the strength they could muster and held his tongue, as Sigurd did once realizing the decision was final. Now that they traveled with children, for Eirene would make certain they are well taken care of, the Parthans would not be able to manage the pace they previously held.

  Given the opportunity, the Parthans quickly returned to a light sleep, salvaging whatever they could from their abrupt and early awakening.

  Ganis returned to her duty and slowly distanced herself from the children. She had grown hungry during the night. She returned to her tree and pondered at the stars while they slowly dimmed against the shine of an invading sun.

  Somehow, she thought, the Ona keeps growing. It started with Eos, then the Watchers, and now the children. I wonder what we’ll face next.

  9

  They reached the beacon, a lighthouse at the southern edge of the continent. At first, the travelers were excited to finally see their target, but the thrill quickly subsided once realization struck. It was an ancient and abandoned structure – not even fit to safely house anyone. Hephaestion’s questions would not be answered, at least not all of them.

  Refusing to believe that the crumbling tower standing ahead was what he had sought - the key to so many mysteries - Hephaestion dropped his luggage and rushed into the structure in spite of Thalia’s attempts to stop him. “This cannot be it!” he cried, running towards the tower as fast as he could.

  The beacon was larger and taller than any structure the Parthans had seen in Utyirth. It was also the oldest one. Vines crawled to the top of the tower as they caressed the corroded grey stone marked by time.

  Worried, Ganis followed Hephaestion into the beacon, rushing as he did. Confident in her abilities, the others did not object.

  She casually walked into the tower, scanning it as best as she could while keeping her pace matching Hephaestion’s. The arched entrance had been built for beings far larger than humans, yet it was not old enough to be meant for the Elder, the first sentients who roamed the lands far before any other notable sentient creature ever existed. The size of the gateway left Ganis puzzled. She followed Hephaestion, making her way to the top of the tall structure, plants and dangling vines brushing against her.

  Overwhelming dense vegetation claimed the walls and most of what remained from the stone floor. A clear path of stairs covered with greenery led Ganis to the top. Broken branches and footprints marked Hephaestion’s way. He would have to stop at some point.

  As Ganis stepped on the stairs, she noticed that while some stone tiles were missing, they had been reinforced and occasionally replaced by wooden supports. For a time, at least, the building was tended to. After testing the ground, she judged it sturdy enough to carry her weight without incident.

  Although the beacon was the tallest structure they had seen in these uncharted lands, its height extended for no more than five tiers, making it unimpressive by Nosgardian standards. Following the spiraling green steps to the top, Ganis discovered that the purpose of the structure was simply to lead to a higher vantage point enabling a wishing man to see some distance into the sea.

  The structure had survived as long as it did because it was meant to withstand the test of time. It was build to last. No unnecessary aesthetic gaps between the stones made it strong, and the avoidance of supporting wood made it sturdy. It had nothing more than what was needed to give it height.

  By the end of the dark stairway, Ganis saw a ray of light escaping from an opened hatch above her. Sunrays struck her face as she approached her destination, which felt to her far further than it actually was. Stepping through the doorway and into the light of day revealed Hephaestion staring at the ocean ahead, his spirits drained from hope. He rested his hands on a vine-covered stone pillar supporting a shabby roof atop the terrace.

  “I had such high hopes for this beacon. I was certain it would give me answers; answers that would guide us on this quest. Perhaps even a clue about our past.”

  “It does give answers, as does everything. Maybe you didn’t ask the right questions.”

  “The right questions?” He released a brief chirp - it was a fake one poorly masking his disappointment.

  “Eos was right. We are now close to the Highborns’ lands. It is time to start making the allies that we need to fight whatever army Naa’tas has raised.”

  Hephaestion turned to face Ganis. “What makes you so certain that Naa’tas has an army? What makes you so certain that he has survived the journey? Is it not possible that the reason we can find no trace of him is because there is none?”

  “Men like Naa’tas, captain, do not simply die. When they perish the world knows it. We also know that his goal is to bring the Empire to its knees. The only way that Naa’tas can achieve his goal is to build an army and invade Nosgard, and the only way his threat can be brought to an end is by making certain that his head and shoulders are well apart. Naa’tas will not die unless we kill him. The Emperor hopes that we capture him alive, but I tell you it won’t be an option.”

  Hephaestion stood in silence for a moment, thinking about what Ganis had just said. “Your words ring true.” He looked at the calm ocean then back at Ganis. “They always rang as such. I kept making wrong decisions ever since I assumed command. We should have tried to save Pertinax. It was a mistake to respect his last wishes.”

  Ganis nodded, and then reached out to indicate it was time to return.

  They descended, returning to their Ona and leaving the tower, Hephaestion’s supposed salvation, behind. The beacon did offer them answers, but to questions they had not asked. Ganis was right.

  Two orphans and three hounds stronger, the Parthans made way north to Scandur, homeland of Eos and the Highborn.

  Ganis and Eos discussed ways to convince the Highborn that the Midland villages were their worthy of their respect and aid - and that without them they would be doomed to the encroaching forces of the northerners.

  It would not be easy task to accomplish, yet it was a necessary one, which grew in necessity as time passed. Alone, neither the Highborn nor the Midland villages would survive the inevitable onslaught. The Highborn were too few and the villages were too weak.

  Chapter 5: And Volition Will

  ‘The difference between a king and a farmer is made by choices more than by birthrights. We all get offered choices which lead us to different destinies, but most of us end up making the wrong ones and leading unsatisfying lives.’ Philosophical Lessons from Utyirth (Volume I: Captain).

  1

  A peaceful trip to Scandur, the lands of the Highborn, allowed Monolos to continue teaching the Watcher hounds in the manners of speech. Eirene tended to the two orphans, making certain that they would stay out of trouble.

  The others continued their natural order of business as they carefully ventured forth; Ninazu with his herbs, Thalia with her songs, and Hephaestion with his philosophy. Though everything seemed natural, there was an air of discomfort which grew upon them the closer they got to Scandur. Eos’ depiction of the Highborn was at the very least unsettling.

  The twins, keen as they were, suddenly sensed danger nearby and, in perfectly matching voices, shouted, “Ambush!” They drew their weapons, signaling the others to do as such.

  Heeding the warning, they formed one of their Parthan formations. A circle of readied steel and tensed flesh surrounded the hounds, children, and a pile of hastily discarded brown leather
packages, containing the provisions the Parthans carried.

  The assailants, noticing that their presence was revealed, casually appeared, taking untroubled steps towards the outlanders. Hiding would serve them little good now. Two hulking muscular men walked from behind a large tree. They wore heavy furs on their backs and exposed their chests, and a thick leather belt with many weapons and tools tucked within. Each carried a large sword on his shoulder. Unobstructed by foliage, they stood straight and alert, but did not unsheathe their weapons which hung from their sides like hunted hares.

  “It is very unwise to enter the lands of Scands so poorly prepared,” a large man said while appearing before Sigurd from behind a nearby tree. Being the largest of the Parthans, the Scandurian assumed that Sigurd was their leader - as the habits of their culture defined such role.

  Sigurd, provoked by the hostile native, ached to challenge him in a physical show of strength. Rarely did the Turian shy away from such advances, but he always did his best to place the mission first.

  “Do not take us lightly, for we are more than capable to take out a force twice as large as ours,” Hephaestion said. Strength was their language, he thought. He then regretted revealing their caliber to the enemy. He had lost the element of surprise - so much for Eos’ suggestion.

  Following Eos’ whispers, Ganis repeated, “You are the Highborn, a dying race. I have come here to meet with your leader. Take us to him and test not my patience.”

  The Highborn leader eyed them wearily, a grimace of disgust falling upon his face. “Should we accept your challenge, your fate would quickly be shortened. Know your place, foreigner. Know your place.”

  “If you are so superior, then why fear taking us to your leader?” Ganis nudged Hephaestion, who signaled his understanding by a faint nod.

  The other Parthans stood weary as the discussion escalated. It would be a challenge to fight these three. Imagine being surrounded by their likes, Hephaestion thought. He looked at Sigurd and noted his hostile expression. At least Sigurd is looking forward to it.