“All of which would very well appeal to Keuth, given the solid stone buildings,” Maven added. “No doubt those constructs had been raised from the earth itself, deep down under. Not only that but I hardly spy enough people to justify the number of buildings. Interesting…simply intresting,” he murmured pensively. “Well! We found the location of the bandits,” Maven said. “We have Astregra and we also recovered Varrult. If anything this was a rather successful assignment! So, what do you call for now, Joshein? Do we withdraw and regroup with our knight?”
Joshein took a short moment to consider as the winds blew and the falling waters grew heavier and heavier. “Yes, it would be the wisest decision. We’ll backtrack a short distance before heading east to the road. Come on, Trent, let’s get your falcon out of here.”
“No, wait…” Trent muttered as he looked out over the cliffside, gaining a second lingering glance from the infantryman.
“Trent, I don’t know what you’re thinking but it would be in your best interests if you…”
He was cut off when Trent pointed his hand downward and said, “Look! What is that thing?”
Maven was the next to look and fall to awe as he took Trent’s words for his very own whispered, “Wh-what is that thing? Is it even a man?”
Casting his gaze down the cliff to where Trent had pointed, he too spied the being of great size standing before the city, facing away to the open field of the valley to where Joshein could spy a pass between the mountains that seemed finely carved and smoothed for ease of entry.
“Is that…a giant?”
Maven’s chin fell into his hand as he mulled over his memory before saying, “I remember stories. Joshein, you and I saw once before a man…no, a general of Carthol as he led us across the Xanthian sea and onto the beaches in the land of Narrovinnia.”
Joshein did remember, however distant that memory might have been. It was in their early years after the call of Myndre, the same call that liberated Joshein from a life of poverty to one of glory. Yes, Joshein remembered a distant figure standing before the mast of their biggest ship. Many thought him to be a beast to be let loose upon the battlefield, but others would contradict their enquiries, baseless conjectures and assumptions. They were told he was a general of Carthol and one of great clarity, tranquility and control, but Joshein remembered his name not.
“Wait,” Maven said, raising a hand. “I remember, his name was—”
“Venneith!” Trent abruptly interjected.
“Are you mad, boy?” Maven questioned. “His name wouldn’t be Venneith, it’s…”
“No, look! It’s Venneith down there in the pass!”
As the infantrymen gazed through the thin cloak of the storm, they too cast their eyes upon the carved pass of the valley to spy a darkly armored figure very much like Venneith and his armor… for it was Venneith, the Dark Armored Knight, the Armor Burnt Knight, the champion of fury and slayer of men and beasts.
As he marched forward through the winds and waters of an ever-increasing storm, he paused before succeeding the pass, requesting of Amyth, “My hide, please.”
Without a word, Amyth approached the knight with the hide of the stag he had hunted the night prior, with the skull hollowed and cleaned as the fur hung from its nape.
He handed it to Venneith. The knight looked to the skull as it sat atop the rolled fur before saying, “Amyth, they say Vrueth appears to man in many forms, each with the skull of an man, animal or beast. They said he wore the finest of cloth and dressed like a noble, for a god’s glory shall be known even if by its own attire. Yet in each iteration and brief description given, it was the head of man, bare and skinless, that signified a peaceful passing whenever a man so sees this glorious apparition. Yet whenever he reared his head with the skull of a beast or untamed animal, one could only whimper before he is destroyed wholly.”
“Shall I assist you in combat, Venneith?” Amyth questioned.
“No,” he flatly answered before placing the skull over his helmet, with the carved out entry assisting greatly. Letting the skin unfold across his back, Venneith again cast his gaze across the valley to the man-giant standing in his way. “This fight will forever be beyond you. Stay back and perhaps Vrueth’s gaze will look upon you not.” Raising his right fist in salute, Venneith marched forward to face the giant before him.
“Black Knight Venneith Cornease,” the giant announced grandly as he stood before the knight. “I must say,” he began as he kneaded at his chin. “There is a certain air of edge to what you wear.”
“Man-Giant Meil Kuskurroff,” Venneith addressed as he looked upon his opponent. He wore a rather large bearskin that draped over his shoulders, covering his body wholly with his arms wrapped within. His head was covered by its maw, with the bear’s lower jaw removed. His leggings were the only article of attire not made of fur, but instead a rather thick-looking cloth that only bulked the closer it got to his ankles. Perhaps that was to simply compensate for his size and protect the few most vulnerable bits of his being. “It seems you’ve fallen far since your retirement as General.”
“Please, Venneith,” he grinned. “Meil Kuskurroff was my former name. Now I’m Voros Ohtoros, the one who raised a city of stone with nothing but Keuth to aid in that endeavour. And by the way, as foreign as it might sound to you, that’s raise with an S. Although I’m sure you might want to raze my little theocracy; raze as in obliterate and destroy, as you may be very familiar with.”
“Theocracy? So it’s true then, yes?” Venneith questioned flatly over the gale of the storm and patter of rain. “You’re a worshiper of Gyr, are you not?”
“Gyr?” Voros asked with a pretend expression of perplexion written across his face. “Oh, I’m sure you mean Gryalphaimy, god of the Gryphons who long have gone extinct from the lands because of…Lythre? The Extinct God Xanthian? Neither of which…you worship…do you? To answer your question, yes; in your terms I am a Gyr worshiper, they all are!” He waved a shoulder to the city of stone behind him. “It is, after all, only natural to worship he who promises strength and glory so long as he be greater than you or I, or any mortal that dwells upon this earth without power to supply.”
“The worshiping of Gyr has been forbidden by the blood of Mortemy and his great name,” Venneith mightily declared. “His reign extends to the rocky beaches of Roe, to the coarse lands of Agrenal, as well as to the forested district of Marrin. This very district which you invade with your theocracy, made up only of those who abandon the call of Myndre. Cowards! Nothing more and nothing less. The levels of death stacked upon each soul that shall be condemned in accordance to the law are numerous and counting. Surrender now and thy court may be merciful. Resist and I WILL NOT!”
“Surrender, so that each man here be made a slave to the state of Carthol? Until death or they yield to the call of Myndre and pledge servitude upon their life until the twentieth and first year of service to thy nation has been met? ‘In the name of honor,’ they say. ‘Glory in death,’ they promise before they are forever forgotten the moment they recede back into the dirt with nothing to show nor the blood they had lost. Tell me, Venneith, have you ever had a chance to sit down and take a good, long, pensive think for a moment?”
“Never shall one question the words of thy lord,” Venneith preached. “Death looks upon thee, shall ye gaze back?”
“Bold words for a knight without a weapon. Quite bold for one who has fallen so far. I remember your legend, Venneith, but tell me, what happened causing you to lose Clarity and thus your bond with Heuth of Euth? What happened causing you to lose Tranquility and thus your bond with Reuth of Euth? What happened causing you to lose Control and thus your bond with Keuth of Euth? And what happened causing you to be filled with so much rage, anguish, indignation and hatred? What hurt you, scared you, betrayed you and rent you so much that your armor became ashen, driving Deuth of Euth to gaze so enviously upon you? You once called me by my former name, something that I am not. Let me call you by something yo
u’ve long since foregone; Silver Knight, Cornease…”
Beyond Voros a crowd had begun to gather as they caught sight of the event taking place before them. None yet knew of the faceoff that took place or exactly what was at stake. Voros looked to the knight trying to spy any sense of emotion, somewhat hoping that calling him by his former handle would elicit some form of emotion, some parcel of rage or regret, anything, any scrap of emotion so that Voros might understand and begin to empathize with. Yet Venneith gave none as he stood there before him, unwavering in his presence.
“Heh, I can’t empathize with you, Venneith,” Voros stated. “Perhaps I never shall, but you’ve lost something crucial to one’s very existence…humanity.” Freeing his hand from the fold of his pelt, Voros took hold of his shoulder before pulling away the bearskin, exposing himself to the knight. “I will destroy you, Venneith, for you’ve become beastly inhuman.”
“By my the honor of my knighthood, I will put an end to your theocracy and take back the land which you’ve stolen from Carthol.”
Removing the skull of the Vrueth, Venneith allowed the pelt to fall to the dirt behind him with Vrueth pointed to gaze upon the field and the Man-Giant Voros before him. The winds blew and the waters began to fall while men looked on, before the flash of lightning struck the land.
“The gods grow anxious, Venneith,” Voros announced with open arms. “Yet who do they favor?”
Faintly in the distance, yet masked by the gale of rainfall, an exertion could be heard, and with another blinding flash of lightning, before Venneith stood his crescent-bladed, piked-ended, ball-headed poleaxe. Venneith didn’t hesitate to take it in his hands to face-off before Voros Ohtoros with the assured statement, “The gods? They forever favored me.”
Chapter fifteen
“It is Venneith!” Joshein lowly muttered as he watched him emerge from the pass with his follower closely behind.
“Wh-what are they doing?” Maven questioned as he witnessed Venneith take the skull of the hunted and skinned stag and don it over his helmet. Amyth then took his leave, appearing to offer no assistance, though judging by the exchange it was asked for by Venneith. “Is he…
“He’s going to face the giant.”
“Without a weapon?” Joshein questioned. “Has he gone mad?” Turning about he looked to Astregra before spying the weapon strapped and laid across her side.
Maven could spy a particular if not familiar look crawl across Joshein’s face and he asked, “Do you have a plan?”
“Maven, we’re may need to assist the knight but we can’t intervene without the element of surprise.”
“Right!” he affirmed before asking, “so…what do you have in mind?”
Pointing, Joshein said, “Scout to the east and see if you can find a ridge or path leading down.”
As Maven gathered himself up to carry out his command he asked, “And what are you going to do?”
Walking up to Astregra, he came to her side to take the poleaxe in his hand, removing it from its mounted hold. “I’ll be calling upon Keuth for assistance. Now go, Maven, and be speedy!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Hold the reins, boy,” Joshein commanded Trent as he handed Astregra off to him before the falconer took refuge below a tree from the rising storm. “I haven’t quite done something to this extent before,” he murmured to himself before grounding the blade in the dirt, letting the hilt stick high into the air. “What were these Xulls they taught?” he rhetorically asked as he looked to his hands, struggling to remember the formation they were to take to accomplish the task he had in mind. “Oh Keuth,” he murmured as he he formed his first Xull, quite unsure of himself. “I hope you able to understand my intentions. Focus.” e interlaced both pinkies, ring-fingers, and thumbs together with both his middle and index fingers extended against one another, high into the air. He formed his first Xull, known as ‘the sword.’
He fumbled with his fingers again, trying to remember the formation before going, “Er, eh…s-square?” He then formed a diamond by pressing the ends of both his middle and index fingers together. “Triangle!” he then said as he let the tips of his middle fingers slide past to take the shape of a pyramid. With the general intent of his Euth release passed on to the god of interest, Joshein sighed before muttering, “oh Keuth, I hope my shoddy mock-Xulls are sufficient. Release!”
Placing both palms on the ground, he began to focus and recall everything which he controlled: his life, his destiny, his actions, his fate…agency, he had agency, and although certain aspects of his life may have been beyond his control he knew that it’s not about what life gives you, but how you take life and make it your own.
With this sense of control he began to focus deep within the earth where the dirt gave way to stone. That stone he might lift and mold to his liking and, with Keuth looking upon him, he did. Gripping that which he could not physically reach or touch, Joshein began to pull and tug mightily before the storm as lightning flashed and thunderous waves roared. Before long did a ramp of pure, hard stone emerge taking the shape of a rectangular ramp with a triangular groove down the center.
With this complete, Joshein fell back, winded, whispering, “Damn me…I’m so weak.”
As the infantryman lay there beneath the storm and rain, Trent couldn’t help but marvel at that which he had raised up from the earth. Before him stood a construction, a simple ramp made of rock, pointing out over the cliffside with a small groove carved through the middle. If this was the power of but a single infantryman then Trent could only be amazed, imagining a legion upon the battlefield raising walls and defences before their enemies.
“I’ve returned, Joshein,” Maven announced triumphantly as he emerged from the thicket to the east. Upon seeing the ramp of stone and Joshein laying in the dirt panting, he asked, “Are you fine, my friend?”
“Not very much so,” Joshein answered tiredly. “I raised up this ramp but I can do no more. I need you to listen very carefully, Maven,” he muttered as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. Pointing, he instructed Maven, saying, “Take that poleaxe and place it on the ramp in a manner where the head of the hammer hangs off the end. Place the pole within the groove, Maven…”
Maven did as instructed, first taking the poleaxe in his hand before resting it in the manner in which Joshein had said; the hammer hung over the end, keeping the poleaxe elevated within the groove of the stone ramp. Already Maven was beginning to gain an idea of what Joshein intended, but before he could be sure for himself he asked, “Now what?”
“Launch the thing, Maven,” Joshein simply answered. “Call upon Keuth, pull up stone from the earth and eject that weapon into the sky to land before Venneith.”
Could he actually do this, Maven wondered. Was it within his capability? Yes, of course, for he did not fear, was well taught and had a mighty sense of control. He formed his first Xull. “Focus.” Then he formed his second at the word, “conform!” Balling his right hand into a fist he rested it into the palm of his left hand, forming his Xull to conform.
As Maven placed both hands to the earth ready to pull and heave, Joshein asked, astonished, “You…remembered the hand signs?”
“Wha— you didn’t?” Maven questioned. “How could you forget something as fascinating as communicating with the gods of Euth?” All Joshein offered was a shrug. “Well then…I’ll finish this.”
Maven then began to focus and recall that which he controlled. He had control over himself even when faced with the temptations of evil. He had control over his actions and although he often fell beneath another’s command, it was through his own volition that he listened, obeyed and carried out each order, each command and instruction to the letter, without hesitation, so that he and his peers may come out victorious and successful above all else.
With this sense of control Maven reached down and gripped stone deep within the earth, taking hold to liberate it from its hardened bonds. He surged, exerting himself greatly as the earth beneath the
ramp opened up to reveal a stone fitted perfectly to the ramp’s shape. Maven pulled one last time, striking stone against shaft, following through until it succeeded the ramp, sending the poleaxe afar before Maven yanked back on the stone, compelling it back to the cliff face where it landed in the grass.
Before Maven could witness the fruit of his efforts, he too fell to the ground in weakness. “Damn me, we should prioritize the training of Euths more often. I can hardly lift a rock.”
“The Lord favors flesh and steel,” reminded Joshein as he lifted himself up to his knees. “Magics are only permitted to an extent.”
“They shouldn’t have to be…” Maven moaned as he turned himself about on his stomach before pushing himself up next to Joshein. “But if Lord Mortemy wishes it then who am I to question?”
“An infidel no better than these mongrels,” Johein pointed.
“Heh, here’s to being a man of the Lord,” Maven chanted as he held up his fist with his wrist extended as if he was holding a teacup.
“Aye, cheers,” Joshein repeated, returning the gesture as they looked down to witness Venneith take the weapon in his hands. “A good show we’ll have,” Joshein muttered as the reality of the situation fell to the forefront of his mind, washing away any joy there might have been. “Maven, I trust you found a way down?”
“Aye,” he answered. “Along the cliff face is a rather long, rocky ramp that gradually leads down. It’s covered by bushes, allowing for a discrete descent and quite wide enough too.” Looking to Joshein he asked, “Will we be intervening?”
Joshein shook his head before answering. “Perhaps if things take a turn for the worst, but this is between them. If he wanted assistance, the Narrovinnian would be at his side.”
“I don’t know how he could best that Man-Giant.”
“As he always does,” Trent had interjected, causing the infantrymen to look back on him before he answered, “With fury.”
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