Book of Kayal: Strength of Unity

by Stryker Nileson

  The hulking man stood with complete stillness and continued to stare into Ganis’ eyes. It was a different stare than that of Ninazu, for it did not cause her to feel exposed - instead, she felt helpless. Yet she persevered.

  Unwelcome by Sigurd, Ganis took leave and left to the main deck. On her way to the stairs leading upwards she heard a whisper emanating from one of the rooms. Further investigation led her to a room next to Ninazu’s lab where one of her comrades prayed – whispering to the forces above.

  Noticing her presence, Eirene asked, “Can I help you with anything, child of Pax?”

  “I am no child of Pax.” While Ganis intended her unholy nature, the priestess interpreted it as a reference to her non-belief.

  “We are all children of Pax.” The priestess stood up and looked at Ganis. Her motions were slow and fluid. Eirene was fair and had a serene face which calmed Ganis’ worried heart. Her dark black hair, coupled with dark eyes, matched the color of her skin perfectly. Eirene was a true specimen of beauty. Taking a brief pause to stand up, the Parthan continued, “Some of us are clouded in darkness, a darkness that prevents the truth from emerging, but we are all children of Pax regardless.”

  “And what father would abandon his children and condemn them to such a bloody fate? What father would watch his children slaughter each other and bring never-ending pain upon one another?”

  “Pax is no father to any of us.”

  “If we are the children of Pax and he is no father, then Pax must be our mother. He acts not like a parent, but as a cruel experimenter.”

  “Pax is no mother either.”

  “You speak of riddles.”

  “Pax,” Eirene said, with emphasis, “is beyond our comprehension, regardless of the level of enlightenment we reach. The methods by which Pax attends to us, his creation, would take us many hundreds of lifetimes spent worshipping to even start to understand.

  “Some of us hope to reach a small portion of enlightenment during our given lifespan to help us pass through to the next life with a hint on how to continue worshipping Pax. All the strife we experience is but a test to our conviction, for it causes the true to follow the path of Pax and the false to fall deeper into the abyss.”

  “Your beliefs are naive. Why would an omnipotent being such as Pax care for how we fare?” A lifetime of cruelty left Ganis skeptical of all things religious. If she ever had any faith, it was long forgotten.

  “Because he loves us like parents love their children. We are creatures of peace that have been misguided by other forces opposing Pax, but our faults increase the love that Pax has for us.”

  Frustrated by the flawed reasoning of the priestess, Ganis snorted. “One would think a life dedicated to fighting would make you shun Pax.”

  Smiling, Eirene said, “Oh, but you do not know what my life is dedicated to, or how it came to be that I find myself here, among some of the world’s most efficient killers.”

  “Then enlighten me.”

  Eirene took a deep breath, a small strand of hair flickered as she did so, and said, “I was orphaned at a young age and taken in by Fark from the School of Knowledge. He exposed me to many things the School had to offer, including religion. There I was allowed to study any topic I wished as long as I contributed to its development.

  “Along with studying the scrolls stored within, I trained in the arts of combat, a Parthan tradition. The combination of my studies drove me to think about the reasons behind all the violence we are surrounded by.

  “After years of wondering, I realized that the answer was never hidden from us. It was peace. It is true, many people fight for selfish reasons, but most fight to protect. They fight to protect themselves, their loved ones, and their beliefs. They fight for peace.

  “Peace, it appears, is the ultimate goal of war, and it can only be attained by unifying the peoples. Pax shows us how to unify ourselves and end all the suffering we brought, and continue to bring, upon ourselves and others.

  “If you fight for Pax and convince others that his path is the only one that leads to salvation, you will bring an end to all wars. This understanding is the gift I have been given by Pax.”

  “I once thought as you did, but I was wrong.” Ganis looked away. “As long as there are strong people and weak people, there will always be conflict. We are just beasts, and in the world of beasts the strong force the weak into servitude. The true answer to war is not peace, but oppression.”

  Smiling at her comrade, Eirene concluded, “I am glad that you joined our humble Ona. Perhaps our travels together will give me another opportunity to convince you of my beliefs.”

  “Please, priestess, do not take my words in offense. I was simply expressing my sincere opinion.” Ganis politely nodded and proceeded to leave. While heading outside the door Eirene held her arm and gently hugged Ganis. She then let go, smiled, and continued her prayers silently.

  Ganis was speechless by the gesture. Eirene’s conviction made her, at the very least, think about Pax. How can people like her exist with all the pain and destruction they have seen?

  3

  In a dark prison somewhere near Scyldur, Ganis awoke. She did not know where she was or how she got there, and her aching body reminded her of the events that led to her defeat. She reached for Eos in panic, feeling only an empty sheath falling limp from her belt.

  When the daze wore off, it was still dark, yet the gentlest reflection of light gave her enhanced eyes the ability to make out shapes. If it was not for her Dark Gift, she would have had to feel her way around this desolate fate with nothing but her hands.

  Irregular rocks, some sharp and others not, surfaced from the walls. A cave. As Ganis walked around, trying to draw a mental map of her surrounding as her Peacekeeper training had taught her, she zigzagged through endless corridors of which many lead to the same clearings.

  A long search led her to find an entrance, an iron reinforced wooden plank placed atop a steep slope. She tried to reach the exit, or what she thought was one at least, but her sapped strength made it an impossible feat. Her frustrations made her huddle in a corner and suppress the tears her eyes ached to produce.

  Then hope.

  The sound of a faintly beating heart rung in Ganis’ ears. She followed the steady beat as best as she could, crawling into tight crevices barely wide enough to allow her passage. A hidden area she would have never found if not lead through. Twists of right and left led her to the source of the beating, a dying man.

  Once he noticed the intruder, the man, more bone than flesh, panicked and attempted to force his back to the wall behind him. It was a miserable effort. “I haven’t done anything. I believe in the Mighty One. Please, find it in your heart to spare me. Please!”

  As the man cried for mercy Ganis found her unbeating heart touched. It was a terrible fate. She squatted in the corner, hoping that her distance would console him. “Is that what you call your god?” Ganis asked.

  The man, terrified of her reaction to his response, took a moment to think. He shook as he pressed himself to the wall behind him, with body half bent. “I’ll tell you anything you want to hear.”

  She sat quietly in her corner, watching the man in pity. “Where are we?”

  “We’re where the faithless are sent.”

  “And where is that?”

  “The Pits of Carcer.” He winced once he spoke the words, as if it pained him.

  “The gateway in the clearing, where does it lead?”

  “Nowhere. They once used it to feed me, but it’s been some time since anything was dropped from there. I’m too weak to go there now.” He burst in a sudden weep, drool dripping from his mouth as he mumbled words Ganis could not understand. “I’m so hungry.”

  She eyed the man. It would be a mercy taking his life here and now. Her hunger had grown ferocious, making the filthy prisoner water her mouth. “So am I.” She then stood up, as much as the cave allowed her, and approached the man.

  He tried to distance himself but
there was nowhere to go. His back was as close as he could manage to the rocky wall, a sharp edge cutting at his shoulder and drawing blood. When Ganis had come close enough to reach out, he squealed and covered his face with his right hand.

  Ganis pushed his arm away gently and reached for his head. She held him from the cheeks, looking straight into his eyes, and said, “You were right to blaspheme. Your god, the Mighty One, is a fake.”

  “No…no.” The man’s eyes widened and he shook his head violently sideways. “No!”

  It was cruel to toy with her food, Asclepius taught her, and Ganis intended to stay true to this lesson, at least. She moved the prisoner’s head around and exposed his neck, preparing to gorge on what little blood he had, and fed.

  A limp corpse lay in the cave within a cave.

  Even with the little strength she had regained, Ganis knew that she would not be able to manage an escape from the hatch. There was little else for her to do other than prolong her existence as much as she could. She went into a heavy stupor, hibernation, and entered a state between reality and imagination, a state for the condemned.

  4

  It was damp and cold, but it did not bother Ganis - a slight disgust, perhaps, a remnant reaction from the days before her death. She had become used to the dark and lifeless state of her prison, yet the loneliness, a feeling her days with the Ona led her to forget, pecked at her like a furious crow.

  Ganis slumbered through time to preserve the little blood she had drained from her predecessor. Her body was paralyzed, stored by her meditation, yet she could not manage to do so with her mind, which wandered freely in time as she dwelled on both past and future.

  In the corner her meal had begun to rot, releasing a putrid smell that engulfed her senses, but she had grown accustomed to the slow process of decay, saving her the shock of accompanying death.

  Then a cold breeze caressed her body and brought her back to the land of the living, a land she was once in.

  Yellow fields of wheat flowed around Ganis, sun tickling her skin and air brushing her long yellow hair - styled in a fashion she had long forgotten, loose with two thin strands from the front braided at the back of her head to expose her face fully.

  The wind blew a gentle voice which called, “Ganis.” It was a familiar voice, but she could not identify from where.

  She looked behind her and saw a pale woman wearing a white dress, free from any signs of dirt or wear. The dress flapped with the soft blowing winds, a noise which fit the beautiful woman well. Her hair was black and still, and her eyes presenting a faint smile matching her pink lips well.

  “Where am I?” Ganis asked. She was not concerned by the sudden change in her surroundings, but relieved. It seemed a suitable question to ask.

  “Your body remains in the prison, Ganis, and your mind has entered my realm,” the woman said. She then approached Ganis and offered a slow and serene curtsy. “I am Kismet.”

  “Are you a friend?”

  “That is entirely up to you, and I would hope you would judge me as such.”

  “Am I alive?” Ganis asked. Part of her hoped that her journey was ended and that she had gone to the afterlife. It would be, she judged, a good place to spend eternity.

  “You have not been alive for a long time, Ganis. You are still in the land of the living. There is much for you to accomplish there, if you wish it.” Her wholly black eyes fell on Ganis. On another person, perhaps, the sight of these eyes would be terrifying, yet Kismet conveyed nothing but peace. “And now, Ganis, it is time for you to return.”

  Ganis turned away from Kismet and looked at the clear blue skies. She took a deep breath to cherish the sensation she so missed, and said, “Can I stay a little longer?”

  Kismet held Ganis’ shoulder, soothing her entirely. “For now you are needed elsewhere. If you wish to come back, Ganis, I will summon you once more.”

  “Thank you.” Her senses dulled again.

  “Let me out of here! I’m not faithless!” a voice screamed.

  Ganis awoke from her slumber, her body reacting immediately to her will, rejuvenated more than it should be. She rushed towards the noise to investigate, crawling through the tight tunnels as fast as her unnatural physique would let her.

  Once she reached the dark clearing Ganis spotted a young woman in a dirty strapless dress which seemed to her to have once been white. If not for the corset holding her dress, the woman’s body would have been entirely bare.

  Noticing the movement coming from within the darkness, the woman retreated to the wall and shouted with panic, “Whose there?”

  “Fear not, young child. I’m here to deliver you from sin and the punishment of solitude.” Ganis slowly approached the woman.

  “No! You’re a faithless, a condemner of the Almighty. My faith has been misjudged.”

  “Your faith?” She moved around to size the woman, as a lion did with its prey. “In who, may I ask?”

  “The one and only true god, the Almighty.”

  “Never heard of him.” Ganis’ words shocked the woman speechless. She started crying in desperation to the fate she has been condemned to.

  The sweet iron smell of blood provoked Ganis’ hunger. She snapped at the woman, a failed attempt to control the beast within, the Dark Gift which tempted her to consume all. “You people, a zealot lot of fools, know nothing of faith. Tell me, child, what is faith?”

  Struggling to produce her words amidst a bout of crying and sniffing, the young woman said, “It’s what I’m not lacking.”

  Ganis laughed sadistically, a crazed laugh often accompanying insanity. “You haven’t the faintest clue what it is, child.” She approached the woman, slowly tormenting her. “No need to worry.”

  “Stay away.”

  She came closer and extended her hand. “Do you want to repent for your sins?” She held her frail hands, soft hands unaccustomed to work.

  The woman nodded. She wanted forgiveness and salvation.

  “Then I declare all your sins forgiven.” Ganis then dug her fangs into the woman’s neck, sapping the life out of her soft body as her widened eyes grew dull and lost their shine. Another limp body fell.

  As the months went by Ganis hibernated, preserving the little blood she was given from the occasional prisoner. The killing and feeding had grown easier the more lives she took. It was never difficult for Ganis to kill, but it was never as easy either.

  For a time Kismet did not appear to Ganis, not in form at least. The mysterious spirit would occasionally alert her when her sleep had grown too deep with new prison arrivals, but that was all the contact she made. Yet it was a pleasant relief from solitude.

  5

  Once more the fields greeted Ganis.

  A voice echoed, the familiar soothing voice of Kismet, and whispered in the winds, “Ganis.”

  She waited patiently, enjoying the pleasant feeling of fresh air and relaxing sun. A few clouds decorated the skies, changing shapes that consumed Ganis’ attention. Then a hand touched her shoulder, taking all her pains away, the little that remained in this world of peace.

  “You still have not told me where we are,” Ganis said, smiling.

  “It is a difficult thing to explain in your tongue. You are safe,” Kismet said. She still wore the same white dress friendly to the kind winds.

  “I thought we would never meet again.”

  “Fate works in mysterious ways, Ganis, but it always leads to the destiny meant for you. My intentions were not to mislead you, or make you wait. It is as it was meant to be.”

  “All is well now, Kismet. All is well.” Ganis closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. She held her breath for a few moments before releasing it. “It is a pleasant realm.”

  “And it is entirely yours.”

  Ganis then opened her eyes to scan the area. The wheat field spanned as far as her eyes would allow her to see, to the horizon and beyond.

  “A memory from your childhood, one of the very first.” Kismet’s words gui
ded her to remember these fields.

  Could such a place exist? Ganis strained her memory. She remembered the days when she was a child, when her father would go out for days at a time, leaving Ganis, her two younger sisters and mother alone. When she would ask her mother where her father went, she would always say, “To make certain you grow tall and strong.”

  Then one day her father returned and announced that they would finally have lands of their own. She was too young to understand at the time, but she knew that it would lead her family to a life away from the big city, Gallecia.

  When she grew a little older, on the farm her father had bought, she understood that he had taken a large loan from a willing lender to purchase the property. At first, it was a good decision, the crops, mostly wheat, would grow quickly and healthy, fetching them enough coin to make the payments and feed the family.

  Yet one day disaster struck and a plague of locust fell upon the farmlands of Gallecia, no crops grew that year and Ganis’ father was forced to choose between paying the lender and feeding his family, he chose the latter. It was not long before the lender came to investigate.

  By that age Ganis was old enough to understand her father’s predicament, yet too young to be of any usefulness. The lender gave her father one season to make the payment, with a general addition to pay for the delay. It was an impossible task, for the crops took two seasons to grow.

  The next season came and her father was still not ready. The lender offered no warning this time and barged into the farmer’s house with some thugs, beating him to death and taking Ganis’ mother and two sisters. Ganis, with a strange twist of fate, managed a timely escape.

  “I remember,” Ganis said. “This was the first time I saw my father’s fields. I have tried to forget this cruel memory for many years now.”

  “It was an unfortunate incident, Ganis.” Kismet soothed Ganis by gently rubbing her back.