Book of Kayal: Strength of Unity

by Stryker Nileson

  The man hesitated for a moment, forgetting that the new Hearthwarden had given them no orders to secrecy. “I’m afraid you are not privy to such information.”

  Ganis grunted, hand falling on her blade instinctively.

  Hephaestion stopped her with an abrupt gesture from his right hand, palm down. “Has she given you any orders to keep such things from us?”

  “No, captain Hephaestion.” The guard knew his name yet not Ganis’. She did not appreciate the sentiment.

  “Then, I believe, the decision to not trust us is entirely yours.”

  The guard eyed Ganis wearily - she did not seem to him to be in a tolerant mood. He swallowed in an attempt to water his dry throat, and said, “Apologies. We lost much of our equipment during the last raid to the looters. It is why we have been keen on keeping the quality of our craft poor. This way, we believe, the looters won’t be interested in taking them.”

  “Is the Hearthwarden awake yet?” Hephaestion asked, looking at Ganis as if asking her to remain quiet.

  “She should be. I’ll inform her of your presence at once. Should I deliver any message?”

  “Just tell her—“

  The Hearthwarden opened the door to the Heart of the Hearth, her new home, and said, “Please, captain, come in.” She then looked at the guard, smiling, and said, “Finnigan, the captain and his retinue are our guests. Please let them in immediately next time they come.”

  The guard nodded, seeming to sink in his crude coat of arms as he did so.

  On their way in, Ganis glanced at the guard intensely. He broke eye contact far before she did.

  “Welcome to my humble abode!” The Hearthwarden insisted that her guests would enter first, in spite of Hephaestion’s reluctance to do so.

  She wore a different dress similar to the one she had worn the previous day, save for a small stitching on the shoulders, and covered her delicate soft feet with a shiny pair of heeled shoes, which loudly tapped whenever she walked on her wooden floor.

  While Hephaestion and the Hearthwarden exchanged pleasantries, idle talk to establish rapport, Ganis scanned the interior. It was a busy home, with many unnecessary pieces of furniture for housing one person. The wooden planks used to build it were carved with floral markings seeming to be inspired by native plants the villagers were exposed to. Cloth and wool covered almost all furniture, yet there was nearly no leather.

  “Ganis,” she said, gaining the immediate attention of the moroi, “I never got a chance to thank you for distracting the raiders long enough for the orphans to escape.”

  Ganis smiled and nodded. She then looked at Hephaestion, with her eyes asking him to break the uncomfortable silence which prevailed.

  “Forgive me, Hearthwarden, but I do not seek to disturb your breakfast.” Hephaestion waved at the table prepared with cheeses, jams, honey, and a variety of local pastries. It was too much for one person alone.

  The Hearthwarden laughed, a feminine laugh coupled with a bit of shyness conveyed by the reddening of her pale cheeks. “You cannot possibly expect a Lady to eat all of this by herself, captain. I was hoping you would join me.”

  “Nothing would please me more.” Hephaestion pulled a chair for the Hearthwarden to sit. After the Hearthwarden took the seat, he repeated the gesture looking at Ganis, hoping that she would join, but she remained standing, ignoring the invitation entirely. He took the seat for himself.

  “Will you not join us?” She asked of Ganis.

  “I have other pressing matters to tend to.”

  The Hearthwarden hummed. She was growing frustrated by her many failed attempts to connect with Ganis. “Then let me start by explaining the nature of these raids.”

  The two Parthans listened carefully, studying the words as they were produced to reflect upon them later. Ganis resisted the urge of producing a parchment and taking notes, a habit of hers from the days she spent as a Peacekeeper.

  “Every four seasons the Scylds launch a series of raids on the Midland villages. We are not always targeted, but lately we seem to have been a focus of their attention. It is a cycle.”

  “They kept the Heart of the Hearth intact. They clearly do not intend to destroy the Midland villages,” Hephaestion said. He reached out to a jug of juice and poured some, first to the Hearthwarden then to himself.

  “We do not know the exact purpose of these raids, but we are well aware of the consequences. They seem to target the orphanages always, taking the children first, and then they loot weapons, armor, clothing and tools, only ones of good quality though.”

  “What about the killings?”

  “Seems to be random.” She took Hephaestion’s plate and filled it with butter, a tablespoon of thick honey, and two slices of fresh bread. “Are you certain you don’t want any, Ganis?”

  Ganis shook her head.

  “Every once in a while we get a Hearthwarden who believes that it is best to fight back, but whenever we do, they strike even harder and kill more of us. The safest course of action so far was to note when they arrive and hide until they are done.”

  “Why do they keep the Heart untouched?” Hephaestion asked.

  “Some of us believe that it is protected by the gods, but no one truly knows. Whoever or whatever is kept inside remains untouched.” She paused for a moment, distracted by two birds playing just outside her window. “We tried to cooperate once, to make an agreement and pay them for leaving us be. It did nothing but aggravate them. They aren’t willing to do it any other way.”

  “Why not just leave? Find an isolated spot in the forest nearby and build a new village?”

  “Hearthdale is our home, captain. I do not know the custom of your people, but here in Utyirth we seldom leave our homes for long. It is where we belong. Yet I believe that this tradition has doomed us to the fate of being at the mercy of the Scylds. I wish things were different.”

  The Hearthwarden and Hephaestion continued to eat in silence, both contemplating the situation of Hearthdale and enjoying the food.

  “It seems that this is all for now. I must excuse myself,” Ganis said. She looked at Hephaestion who offered her his approval with merely a glance, then left the two to finish their breakfast in each other’s company.

  5

  At Hephaestion’s room, the largest and most lavish room at the inn, the Parthans convened. Hephaestion had spent the bulk of the day with the Hearthwarden, Percival and Dindrane talked to the merchants and villagers, while the others focused on their own projects, Ganis, Ninazu and Thalia contributing the least to the investigation.

  “At least the Hearthwarden is not keeping secrets from us.” Hephaestion stood while the others chose to sit. He often liked standing up and walking around when discussing a mission, it helped him think.

  “I can say the same about most villagers,” Dindrane said. She stood next to her brother.

  “At least those who we talked to, sister,” Percival corrected. He held a thick red string in his hand, a gift from the new waitress who offered it as part of the local courtship tradition, which he toyed with.

  “The Hearthwarden’s story claims that the Scylds have been raiding the Midland villages for some time,” Hephaestion said. “They seem to be interested in looting, both people and tools, more than showing their strength. Have you found anything contrary to this?” He looked at the twins.

  “No,” Dindrane said. “Yet we did discover that some of the villagers were willing to take a stand against the intruders. Not all of them feared a confrontation.”

  “Whenever they fought in the past, the Scylds retaliated with a bigger show of force. It has never turned out to be in their favor. I would like to think that an armed confrontation would work, but we would need to get a large army to do so. The Midland villages will have to be sought out and convinced.”

  “I agree,” Ganis said. “Without them they will be hit even harder the next time, a major hindrance for both us and the villagers.”

  “The looting explains their relia
nce on primitive tools,” Thalia said. “Even the few well-equipped guards who resisted fell without much of a fight.”

  “Do you think you can convince the Midland villages to join the fight?” Hephaestion asked of the twins once more.

  “It would be a difficult thing to do, yet we do have a great trump card,” Percival said, winking at Dindrane to continue.

  “The Scands, captain, are our trump card,” said Dindrane. “I have not told anyone that the Scands have agreed to march against the Scylds with a combined army of Highborn and Midlanders, yet I have hinted at the prospect. The villagers seemed to be more trusting of the Scands, who have mostly remained away from their lands, than we thought. Our chances of convincing them to join the fight, with the support of Scandur, are notable. I’d bet on it.”

  Hephaestion took a moment to think. He started walking back and forth while saying, “I will talk to the Hearthwarden and see if she would be willing to help us convince the villagers to head south and seek shelter in Scandur until the Scyld threat is dealt with. My conversation with her led me to believe that it will be more difficult to convince the villagers to leave their homes than to fight the Scylds.

  “While I work on convincing Hearthdale, Percival and Dindrane will head to the other Midland villages.” He looked at them, and continued, “You will say that the villagers of Hearthdale have already decided to temporarily move to Scandur while they prepare an army to match on Scyldur.

  Hephaestion then looked at Thalia, “With the help of the local smiths, Thalia will start preparing the tools needed to arm the new combined force. Use whatever tools the local blacksmiths are willing to supply you with, and buy the rest with the oboi we have left. Hide the new tools in the Heart of the Hearth. I will make the necessary arrangements with the Hearthwarden.

  “We cannot rely on expecting the raid to happen in the usual pattern, so act as if time is against us. Work as quickly as you can to prepare the villagers, and start sending the willing ones to Scandur immediately. Once we have enough tools and villagers ready we will send them both to Scandur in caravans.

  “It will be difficult to maintain secrecy for our plan, so our best chance would be to move quickly and rush our actions. We do not know if the Scylds have any spies scattered within the Midland villages or even Scandur, although I doubt that they are so resourceful.” Hephaestion stopped while staring from the window, taking a deep breath and pocketing both his hands.

  “How much of this plan do you intend to disclose to the Hearthwarden?” Ganis asked.

  “All of it. Tomorrow you and I seek her out and find out how willing she is to join us, but for now it is time to retire.”

  6

  Early the following day, Hephaestion and Ganis headed to the Heart of the Hearth to visit the Hearthwarden as they had planned. The same guard who had stood on duty during Ganis’ previous visit greeted them, “Pleasant night and warm day.”

  This time Ganis was prepared. “May your days grow warmer and nights calmer.”

  Hephaestion smiled at her and said, “I see you have been mingling with the locals.”

  Ganis nodded, smiling back.

  The guard stepped aside, allowing them entry through the short fence which marked the borders of the Hearthwarden’s home. Hephaestion then paused to ask, “May I–”

  Again the Hearthwarden appeared and interrupted him. “Please come in.”

  Once more breakfast was neatly prepared on a table with four seating places. On the counter a few more plates and utensils were ready for anyone else to join them. The same food was presented, save for the juice which was replaced with another local flavor.

  “Will you be joining us today?” She looked at Ganis and gestured at one of the empty seats, the one nearest to the window and with the best view.

  “Not today, Hearthwarden.”

  A look of disappointment quickly appeared then vanished from the Hearthwarden’s face. She directed her gaze at Hephaestion and offered him the seat.

  Hephaestion moved towards the intended chair and pulled it out, gesturing for her to take it. She obliged and allowed him to seat her, blushing at the gesture.

  Ganis was amused by the flirtatious exchanges and remarks shared between the two. For some time they engaged in idle talk, mostly compliments, and seemed to forget the situation they were in. Hephaestion setting aside his duties and calculating self, while the Hearthwarden acting like a young lady, in spite of her age, looking for a suitable husband.

  “Ahem!” Ganis hoped she would gain the attention of Hephaestion and their host, and gained more than what she expected.

  “My apologies. I tend to forget that you are a busy folk.” The Hearthwarden grabbed Hephaestion’s plate and prepared it with some butter, a purple jam, and two loafs of bread. She handed him the plate, carefully letting go only when she was certain he had a firm grip on it, and said, “I didn’t expect you to join me today.”

  “Your table tells another story, Hearthwarden,” Ganis said. Noticing Hephaestion’s shocked look, she realized how impolite her comment was. “I apologize. It’s been some time since I have been surrounded with civilized folk.” Hephaestion’s eyes widened even more, a feature Ganis thought was impossible after his previous stare. “I did not—”

  “Oh I’m certain our customs are strange to you,” the Hearthwarden interrupted. “I hope I haven’t been rude.”

  I appreciate that, Ganis thought. She remained quiet and still, concerned about attracting even the slightest attention.

  Hephaestion then took the jug of juice and poured some, first for his host then himself. “We have thought about a way to help your people escape from the cycle of looting we spoke of yesterday.”

  She looked at him intently, interested in the prospect of a life without fear or disruption.

  “We have a plan...” Hephaestion continued to explain to the Hearthwarden the plan he and the other Parthans discussed the night before. He did not keep any detail from her, even returning to the ones he had forgotten about after he explained the general intention he had from their plan. “…What do you think?”

  She reached out to the bread - it has grown cold yet maintained its freshness. She spread some butter and then some jam on it and took a small, delicate bite, taking her time to chew in silence as she considered the offer. “Are you certain we can trust the Scands?”

  He looked at Ganis, she offered an assuring nod. He returned to look at the Hearthwarden and said, “Without doubt. Yet I cannot say the same about the Midland villages, including those of Hearthdale.”

  She looked at his plate, it remained untouched. “Is the food not to your liking?”

  “Not at all.” Hephaestion quickly took a loaf of bread and dipped it on the jam that has been resting on his plate, taking a messy bite as some of it fell on his chin and vest.

  The Hearthwarden laughed. “Please, no need to feel embarrassed. I had no intention of doing so.”

  Hephaestion wiped his chin with a clean white handkerchief. It emerged smudged in purple from the messy endeavor.

  Ganis suppressed a smile in an attempt to maintain her air of seriousness.

  “Well,” the Hearthwarden said, “the people of Forhaven and Crest Valley would certainly be interested in such an arrangement. They are a folk rich with fighting spirit and quick to be offended, but I do hope your people would be diplomatic when addressing them.”

  “I have absolute trust in Percival and Dindrane to address them accordingly.”

  “Then you can count on them to join.” She rubbed her chin. “I can’t say for certain how the people of North Forest will react. They are close to Scyldur and are often the ones quickest to suffer from any resistance. As for the fishermen of Salt Stream, they could be persuaded if you promise them something in return for the risk they will bear. Perhaps you can convince Thalia to make them some better nets; it will bear great weight with them.”

  “What about the folk of Riverfell and Dawndale?” Ganis asked. She remembered onc
e overhearing a conversation between two merchants heading to the villages of Riverfell and Dawndale, but did not know much about them other than their names and how hard they haggled.

  “Riverfell and Dawndale,” the Hearthwarden said, “are two of the smaller towns in the Midland villages. We do not trust them much, but I never knew why. I would approach them with caution. There are other smaller villages, numbering less than a thousand each, and their folk might be interested in the prospect of taking a stand, but even if you convince them, they will not be able to contribute with much. If time is against you, then I would suggest you seek them out last.”

  Hephaestion, finished with his plate, served himself some more bread and honey, hoping to make up for any offence he might have made earlier. “But first we need to convince your people.”

  “Not all of them will agree. The villagers will be divided on the subject, and certainly some of them will choose to stay. They will be the ones who suffer the most. I can assure you, though, that the remaining orphans will be sent to Scandur. As the Hearthwarden, I decide their fate.” She helped herself with another serving of juice, but only half-filled the cup. “At noon I’ll assemble the town to inform them of your suggestion. It will be up to your people to convince them. I still have not proven myself as Hearthwarden to be of much influence.”

  7

  As promised by the Hearthwarden, the villagers of Hearthdale were gathered by noon. The town had not been prepared for public speeches, and the Parthans had to use tables from the inn as a makeshift podium to stand on so that they could be seen by the crowd of a few thousands.

  Two wooden rectangular tables were placed adjacent to one another to serve as a long rectangular stand. Hephaestion, the Hearthwarden, and the two twins stood atop them.

  Facing the inhabitants of Hearthdale, their leader presented, “I have gathered you here today to give our friends a chance to offer you a choice. I ask of you to hear them out completely before deciding on whatever course of action you prefer.”