Chapter 10: Where Plan is Formed
‘You brought me into this world without my consent, but that is expected from parents.’ Philosophical Lessons from Utyirth (Volume II: Scholar).
1
The journey from Nosgard to Utyirth was nearing its end when Ganis decided to introduce herself to the last member of her new party, Monolos. The animal handler had a habit of waking up at dawn every day to fish. Knowing this, Ganis seized the opportunity to talk to her comrade.
Aboard the main deck of the Siren’s Tear the sun-tanned Monolos stood still with a wooden bucket resting on the deck to his right. Ganis approached the motionless man who stared at the horizon. As she got closer to her comrade, she peaked at the bucked and noticed that it was overflowing with fish. Some bait he must be using, she thought. She looked up and saw no fishing gear around the man.
“Did you catch this?” Ganis asked the man.
“Indeed I did.”
“How?”
“By observing,” retaining in his unnatural stillness, he calmly responded.
“You seem not to be fishing, yet the bucket at your side tells of another story.” She waited for a response or justification by Monolos, but he offered none. Frustrated by his inadequate answer, Ganis said, “In great detail, explain to me how you catch fish.”
After taking a moment to think, Monolos said, “It starts by a fish laying eggs. Then the eggs hatch and little fish start swimming instinctively towards their natural habitat. Then they feed on whatever type of food their kind is used to, other fish, insects, plants, or in rare cases small animals. When the fish matures they head to the surface of the water to breed or feed, or wherever is most suitable for their survival. Once I am near the location where this fish surface, and reason calls for fishing, I catch them.”
Ganis stared at the man, wondering about his sanity. “This isn’t what I asked.”
“I am sorry, but if this response is inadequate, I’m afraid I do not understand your question.”
Almost reaching the limit of her patience, Ganis prepared her fist to strike Monolos. Suddenly, a hawk flew from behind him and threw a fish into the bucket. At this point the bucket was completely filled and the new addition bounced off onto the wooden deck.
Finally, Ganis’ question was answered; the man trained his hawk to fish for him. What a skill.
Admiring her companion’s talent at training his avian friend, Ganis noted, “Quite the talent.”
“What talent?”
“The one you just demonstrated.”
“Thank you.”
Her failed attempt at getting back to Monolos for his ridiculous answer made her grow even more furious. She took a deep breath and said, “I don’t like you!”
“I’m sorry. I will try to make you like me by observing your behavior and determining your likes and dislikes. By offering you more of what you like and avoiding what you dislike, I hope that you will come to change your opinion about me,” Monolos explained. He then picked the bucket with his left hand and the sole fish which lay on the wooden floor with the other. Looking at the fish, then at Ganis, Monolos asked, “Do you like fish?”
“No,” Ganis replied. Although she remembered that she was once fond of the taste, back when she was alive. For a moment, Ganis grew nostalgic.
“Then you may not have any.” His expression was as bland as always. Words were spoken, but the body and face did not react.
With no heed to his intentions, Monolos carried his hawk’s catch and headed to the kitchen. To calm herself, Ganis decided to take a moment to watch the serene sea. It was a sight she would never get tired of.
Commodore Habitus noticed her and approached. Quietly, he stepped beside her while preparing his pipe with a new filling of heaven’s weed. After lighting it and taking a few puffs, he offered Ganis a taste of his remedy.
Without exchanging words, she took the contraption and puffed on it twice. It did not take long for her to feel the dizziness that comes to those unaccustomed to the mixture - a side effect of being exposed to the sun, she thought. While usually her kind would be susceptible to the touch of natural light, Asclepius made certain that Ganis would be spared such vulnerability, at the cost of weakening abilities during her exposure.
“I heard that you have an Orkstadian bodyguard and wife. Is that true?” she asked.
“Yes. Hrah is the mother of my three bastard half-breeds currently serving on the Phoenix with Captain Porter. I did not want to risk harming them on such a perilous journey. Besides, with those tough bastards around, I go through stocks of rom and heaven’s weed with no sense of preservation.”
“At least you have contributed to the coming generation of inhabitants, and they can claim to be the children of the Peacebringer. Do not underestimate their value or the value of your own deeds.” She paused. “Even Asclepius acknowledges you.”
Commodore Habitus took a deep breath and said, “All I wanted was to retire in Senna and die from consumption. Instead, I have been given more responsibilities than any sane man can handle. What you and the others see as honor and blessings, I see as…troublesome. It is indeed ironic how this world functions.” He paused for a moment and sighed, “Peacebringer, a ridiculous title the Emperor gave me just for being in the right place at the right time. You can have this pipe.” Commodore Habitus returned to man the helm of the ship, leaving Ganis with no excuse or explanation.
2
Monolos never considered himself a man of the city. He would feel most comfortable when surrounded by nature, the habitat of the wild – a fitting home for a man of his interests.
The lands in Utyirth were not as densely shaped by its inhabitants as Nosgard. The trees were free to grow and roam as they pleased, making the forests denser and more lively. It was Monolos’ favored retreat; to him and the Watcher hounds.
As Ganis entered the forest – without clear borders, but a fading of grasslands into denser vegetation – she felt watchful eyes fall upon her. She was being followed, and her whereabout was no secret to the dwellers of this place, a fitting outcome for her intent.
Once well into the forest, the cold subsided, and only a few patches of melting snow encountered her as she ventured deeper. More eyes fell upon her, hundreds, she thought, of yellow, brow, blue, black, and an unsettling grey.
This forest is living, Eos projected. It might feel like you are unwelcome, Ganis, but the dwellers are simply curious about you. They have heard many things of the Ninth.
Eos, how comforting it is to hear your voice once more. Ganis walked past a broken branch, carefully avoiding stepping on it for no reason other than her instinct suggesting it. Why am I the Ninth?
Because you are the last. In your absence the Ona did much for the people of Utyirth, those of the south at least. The Watcher hounds, Monolos’ children, have taken to revere you as the maker of their race, and they spend their lives learning of you Parthans, the outsiders who made them more.
I never intended that, as I am certain neither did Monolos. She leaned down to pass from under a tree branch growing low, trying to get its share of sunlight beaming through the opening left by higher branches.
It is uncommon for our intents to dictate the outcomes of what we do, Ganis.
“Welcome, Ninth, to where the Watchers live,” a voice said from behind Ganis. Ganis looked towards her addressor and found familiar green eyes approaching her.
“Are you the one I met at Hearthdale?”
“Indeed I am, Ninth. My name is Glowleaf.” Glowleaf calmly bowed in his canine manner. Strangely, it was a natural one, even with his four canine limbs.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Glowleaf.” She nodded her head friendlily, a response she deemed fitting.
“Come, Ninth, Master Monolos has been eager to see you.” For a moment, Ganis believed that the hound smiled, but again, she realized it might have only been an illusion. She nodded and started following the Watcher.
Dead leaves crumbled beneath their ste
ps – it had become dry within the forest – and the cold grew even milder. It was a suitable place to go to avoid the freezing winds of the Utyirth nights, but anyone who was not a friend of the Watchers would fare better in the unforgiving howls of nature beyond.
They marched deeper into the forest and came to a wide clearing within the heart of the forest where snowflakes fell freely on the ground.
Monolos was squatting in the center when he welcomed her. “And now we are complete.” While giving his back to Ganis, the beast-master stood, remaining idle for a moment before turning to face Ganis and saying, “The children have been eager to meet you.”
At his cue, hundreds of hounds appeared from within the forest, covering the clearing entirely, and slowly approached Ganis, pointing their muzzles towards her and sniffing at her hands if they were close enough. Some produced howls of joy, with echoes that brought life to the forest.
“I am not deserving of such honor, Monolos.” She then looked around and scanned her canine crowd and repeated, “I am not deserving of such honor, Watchers, for I have done nothing.”
Monolos smiled and looked up at the hawk soaring above. He lowered his gaze to address Ganis and said, “Screo did not rest for the past sixteen seasons - looking for you. He sensed your absence and was most disturbed.”
Monolos raised his left arm, a leather bracer covering it entirely, and the hawk descended. He quickly flew in one graceful path towards Monolos’ arm and stood, looking intently into Ganis’ eyes. “He is as much a member of our Ona as you and I.”
Ganis raised her hand to pet the hawk, but briefly pulled it back as he moved his beak, intending to gently nibble on her finger. She then understood the gesture and allowed the hawk to do as he pleased. It was the first time she touched Screo.
“Never have I felt so secluded.” She looked away from the hawk and at Monolos. “How is it that after all this time apart, even with the short time we spent together, that I feel this…connection?”
Monolos smiled. “Because it’s our nature. When Partha fell, after the First Civil War, it had become a divided city with a divided people. The last of the Ona at the time were not even attuned to one another, it was like having ten forces, each of one soldier. Outnumbered and uncoordinated, we were swiftly defeated by the Council’s forces.
“You see, Ganis, we became weak because we chose to talk of differences rather than similarities. We had forgotten that we all share the same lands, the same air, the same food and water; we had forgotten that the life of any living creature is worth saving, no matter which side they chose.
“And it is when we have embraced the forces of ruin rather than those of preservation that we lost what made us strong.” Monolos walked around Ganis, the Watchers clearing him a path wherever he went. “Now our Ona is finally strong. We are ready for Naa’tas.”
“About that,” Ganis said. She turned to face Monolos who managed a way behind her. Her eyes were filled with worry and a genuine aura of concern dominated her mannerism. “Naa’tas is far stronger than we thought he would be.”
“And the Dark Gift?”
“I was like a child in his hands, Dark Gift or not.”
Monolos hummed and lowered his head, scratching his chin as he thought for a moment. “Perhaps it’s time to send word to Nosgard. Perhaps they would have a solution.”
“We are the solution. Emperor Servak certainly knew what we were going to face. Anaria herself prepared the reports about Naa’tas.”
“Then Pax be with us when the time comes.” He paused for a moment, examining Ganis’ reaction, and continued, “With all of us.”
Ganis looked around and saw the Watchers’ eyes still falling upon her. They had stopped sniffing at her, but their interests in her have all but faded. “What of the Watchers. What will be of them?”
“They seem keen on following us wherever we go.”
“Even to Nosgard?”
“Even to Nosgard,” Monolos repeated. Glowleaf approached him and stood to his right. The green-eyed hound was clearly larger than the others. He stood a head higher than the tallest of them and was a half-time wider.
“I suppose the Silver Stags would find their skills invaluable.” Ganis remembered when she was first held captive in the imperial city of Gallecia, awaiting to hear her judgment from the Demigod Emperor Servak just after he overthrew the Council. She had met Daphne Laurel at the time, the freed Silver Stag leader who pledged the Silver Stags’ loyalty to the Emperor, and it was the closest she ever got to one of the wardens.
Daphne Laurel was the best in her trade, an infamous bounty hunter and leader of the Order of Silver Stags, an elite unit of prison wardens who oversaw the affairs of the Gallecian prisons. Once the Council defeated the Parthans, in their bout of consolidating their position, they eliminated a great deal of orders they thought could threaten them, the Order of Silver Stags included.
“It would be a suitable arrangement,” Monolos said. He exchanged glances with Greenleaf.
Greenleaf cleared his throat with a canine bark, and said, “The Three will not object to your commands, Master Monolos.”
“I’m not your master, Greenleaf, no matter how many times you say it. Should you feel the urge to respect me, than manifest it in your own actions. Prove to me that the Watchers have learnt to think for themselves.” He placed a hand on Greenleaf’s head, it almost disappeared entirely in his wild winter coat, and said, “It is the way of the Empire.”
“Yet we are not part of it.”
“Not yet, brave friend. There is much to do before we solve this riddle.” Monolos looked at Ganis and said, “Let us head back to Scandur. I assume Hephaestion means to summon me.”
3
Traveling alone was never as pleasurable as traveling with a companion, no matter how accustomed one has grown to solidarity. In silence, for the most part, Ganis, Monolos and Glowleaf returned to Scandur. From wilderness to urbanism, the three traveled.
“Finally we have all gathered,” Thalia said. “It started to get boring.” She dropped a huge leather package held together with some coarse ropes hiding the contents within and pushed it with her foot towards Ganis.
The package released an unpleasant sound as its newly tanned leather screeched by the rubbing of the polished wooden floor against it. Thalia struggled to move the package with her foot, but her determination did not suffer from it - just her pride.
“By Pax, never has such a clumsy child of Pax exist before,” Eirene said. She wore white garments, half armored with white leather only at the chest and shoulders. The rest was stainless padded cloth.
Hephaestion sat on his chair in their quarters. He, too, had a package for Ganis, in the shape of a small leather pouch. “Ganis, I have something for you.” He extended his hand in offering.
She took the pouch from Hephaestion and untied the thin string binding it together. When she opened it and identified its contents, Ganis smiled and said, “Finally.” She reached to her pocket, where she used to keep her pipe, the one Commodore Habitus had given her, and found it empty. She had not taken it since her return.
Thalia approached and produced the very same pipe Ganis recognized from her own pocket, offering it to her along with a pack of matches.
Ganis took the pipe and started preparing it while she said, “Facing Naa’tas will be a problem, but there are many ways we could achieve our goal.” The Demigod Emperor’s command was for the Parthans to neutralize the threat the Cult of Naa’tas posed to the Empire. It never specified by which means the goal should be attained.
“You have been thinking about it, I see,” Hephaestion said. He produced his own pouch and pipe and started preparing it.
“Very much indeed.” Ganis paused for a moment before answering - focusing on a task she had not gotten a chance to do for some time. The tools felt strange in her hand, at first, but she quickly remembered the proper way a pipe was prepared. “We need to strip him from power.”
“And separate him fr
om the Scylds,” Eirene continued. “Somehow he convinced them that their god, Rayogin, sent him. It won’t be an easy task to show them the error in their ways. Faith, even when misplaced in such a false god, is a difficult thing to abandon.”
Ganis lit a match and inhaled through the readied pipe. She watched the smoke as it blew away from her, fading into the air above. “We’ll need to contact the resistance. They can create just the diversion necessary to strike such a devastating blow on the Scylds that they would question their faith.”
“It might strengthen it, Ganis. We do not know what impact such an action will have.” Eirene stated. The priestess was not only trained in the way of Pax, but also in the history of other religions. She was, Ganis trusted, an expert in all things religious, no matter how little Ganis cared for that which Eirene had dedicated her life to.
“You forget that the last time we faced Naa’tas we were far from prepared,” Hephaestion said. We had no army, barely an alliance, and knew nothing of Naa’tas and his Scylds other than the little we were told by Prince Iolcus. We are in a far better position now.”
“And when exactly do you intend to open your present?” Thalia said. She has been pushing the package closer to Ganis as she conversed with the others, but failed to attract much attention, other than the occasional look amidst speech.
Ganis looked at Thalia and her eyes fell upon the leather package. She leaned down to unwrap it and reveal its contents. When she opened it, a glorious suit of armor met her gaze. Neatly folded steel sheets matching Ganis’ exact proportions rested on a leather under-armor, all died in red – the color of the most achieved Parthan Onas.
The shoulder plates were gently twisted up, making the spiked sharp edges look intimidating, and an etching of a dead speared dragon made its way from the right shoulder to the front center of the suit, continuing on the back. A new steel and leather sheath, Eos’ new holder, matching the suit were also crafted by Thalia.
“It’s beautiful, Thalia. I thought we agreed to use black.” Ganis examined the designs intently. She held up the armor and turned it, tilting her neck every once and a while to capture the entirety of the etched imagery.
“Only until we have established a proper footing here on Utyirth,” Hephaestion responded, “a task completed long ago. Now we go back to our original color, red.”
“You did not expect anything less, I hoped,” Thalia said. She approached Ganis and offered to help with the suit, but Ganis shook her head. It was not the time.
“I didn’t think it mattered much.”
“Everything matters, Ganis,” Sigurd said. He stood further than the others and held his crossed arms in a secured lock. Nothing would make him unclench them other than his will.
Percival and Dindrane report that the army is ready,” Hephaestion said. He took another puff after he finished, it somehow made his words more impactful.
The twins nodded at the gesture.
“Not to mention armed,” Thalia added.
“We’ll need to contact the resistance and coordinate the assault. How will we do this?” Ganis asked of Hephaestion.
“I do not know. Once our plans are clearer, we will be able to coordinate our different activities better. It will likely involve you returning to Initium Keep, Ganis. There are few other ways I can think of to reach the resistance, even if we have everything else planned.”
After a brief pause, Hephaestion continued, “Though there is one thing I insist on, that the natives not be sacrificed needlessly. I believe that the Demigod Emperor Servak would relish the opportunity to bring the people of Utyirth into the fold of the Empire.”
Eirene’s face grimaced for a moment. She still intended to follow on her vow, Ganis thought, to avenge Pertinax’s death and bring justice to the Scylds indiscriminately. It was a strange thing, Ganis thought, for Eirene to be as calm as she was yet have the capacity to become driven by instinct into incredible cruelty.
Did she really understand the path of Pax?
“Then we should plan accordingly,” Ganis said. “We should plan accordingly,” puffing on her pipe, she repeated.
4
The Parthans were no longer alone in Utyirth and the magnitude of their plans was no longer only their concern, it was also that of the natives, the Highborn, the Midlanders and the Watchers.
In King Ragnar’s hall, beneath the Parthan’s quarters, representatives of all the different factions convened. King Ragnar and his two sons, Bjor and Ivar, represented the Highborn. Glowleaf and Yellow-Eyes would express their own inclinations in lieu of the other Watcher hounds, which seemed to never conflict with the Parthans.
Yet the Midland villages had thirteen representatives, all Hearthwardens. Some of the smaller villages chose to elect one representative for collectives, but most had their own. The Hearthwarden of Hearthdale, the very same woman who had invited Ganis and Hephaestion to breakfast a few times, was there. She greeted Ganis with a silent smile and nod as soon as their eyes made contact, when Ganis first scanned the guests.
“The Hearthwardens of the Midland villages.” King Ragnar pointed at the Hearthwardens who stood on one side of Scandur Keep’s hall, and started introducing them. “Rus Capum from Crest Valley, Unger Reis from Riverfell…”
The introductions continued for some time, until they concluded with Ganis, who King Ragnar called by her Highborn title, Excelsis Dignus.
An introductory ceremony just like those of Nosgard, Ganis thought. Nosgard’s influence spread far with us.
“People of Utyirth,” Hephaestion took the reins from King Ragnar, after being offered to do so. “For many seasons we have been preparing to fight the Scylds and end their oppression. We cannot ask you to join us on our mission to eliminate Naa’tas, but we can offer you the opportunity to join us.
“Ganis has returned to us from Initium Keep, where your brethren are taken to work till they die.” Hephaestion pointed at the Hearthwardens. A faint smile escaped him when his eyes met Hearthdale’s Hearthwarden.
The Hearthwardens whispered among themselves, but none interrupted Hephaestion’s speech when he decided to continue. “The prisoners have not given up on the fight. A resistance has been formed in Initium Keep and they await the day when their people would need them, to sacrifice themselves so that no other would suffer their fate.
“Regardless of what choice you decide on, to move the army in a defensive position to stop future Scyld attacks, or to march on Scyldur and defeat the oppressor’s on their own land, we will continue with our mission and we will take action to free your brethren.”
“And so will the Highborn,” King Ragnar shouted. He held himself tall, standing with a straight back and showing the armor Thalia had crafted him. No longer were the highborn clad in cloth and furs, they had heavy steel armor and sharp steel weapons, all masterwork.
Salamis Stoth, the Hearthwarden of Forhaven, stood apart from the others by taking a few steps forward, closer to Ganis, and said. “The Enkashar of Forhaven will gladly join your fight. A man from Initium Keep sought me out before traveling here from Forhaven, before I decided to lead whoever was left in our now-desolate village to Scandur. He said that one of our own, Prometh, if I’m not mistaken, leads the resistance.” He paused for a moment, eyes still fixed on Ganis, and asked, “Is that true?”
“Aye,” Ganis replied with a heavy Forhavener accent. Her tongue seemed to adjust to her addressor’s speech without effort. “Prometh and I shared many troubles back in Initium Keep, and I promised him to come back one day, or at least give them a fighting chance.”
“Then you have earned our gratitude twice, if not more.” Salamis Stoth returned to his place among the other Hearthwardens.
“I do not wish to have your decisions forced upon the Enkashar,” Hephaestion continued. “If any of them object on joining the fight and marching onto Scyldur, please do not force them into the act.”
“No one will be forced,” King Ragnar roared. It was a shocking statement to be ma
de from a Highborn, a man who had lived his entire life ruled and ruling by coercion, but that was another time, before the Excelsis Dignus came with Eos and showed them the error in their ways.
“Not into marching, nor into imprisonment,” Hephaestion added. “We will march onto Scyldur when we know enough about the city and its people to ensure a swift victory. It is common in battle for unnecessary blood to be spilled just out of haste or ignorance.” He paused for a moment, looking at the curious faces of the Hearthwardens unaccustomed to the ways of war. “This will not be a mistake we will make.”
“And when will that be?” a Hearthwarden asked. He was older than the others, bearing the mark of many experiences by the manner he spoke and carried himself, but equally estranged to war and fighting.
“Honorable Hearthwarden, this is not a question we should ask now. All we need to worry about is being prepared. And prepared we shall be.”
5
The plan had been set in motion. The Enkashar were preparing for a journey. They would hold a defensive position by the borders between Scyldur and the Midland villages, in an effort to insure that no other catastrophe such as Hearthdale’s or the other unfortunate looted villages would occur.
While the others waited for their captain, Thalia worked on decorating a wooden mask she had carved from a fallen branch of a tree within Monolos’ training ground. The mask had strange etchings all around.
“What’s this?” intrigued, Ganis asked.
“A story.” Engulfed by the carving, she did not bother looking at Ganis.
Ganis leaned in towards Thalia, examining the engraved pattern she was drawing on the mask, and stood still for a moment.
Miniscule and masterfully-done carvings displayed the story of ten people. The pattern started from the right eye of the wooden face and slowly, with a wide angle encompassing the whole face, made its way towards the other eye, but it was incomplete.
“I wonder if there will be enough space.”
Thalia smiled. “There will be just enough space to conclude the story, unless I do not live to see the end.”
“Then I must protect you.” Ganis poked her index finger with one of her sharp fangs; an unpleasant scratching sound was produced by the gesture. “If any misfortune begets you I can make certain that you would be brought back to life.”
“To what end?” She gently placed her carving knife and art on the stand above the chimney. “I never expressed how glad I am that you allowed Pertinax to get the warrior’s death he long for and deserved.” She paused, saddened. “I do not think moroi get to be embraced by Pax’s arms after death.”
“Moroi are immortal.”
“Even if they lose their head or hearts?” Thalia approached her comrade and offered her a warm hug which felt odd against Ganis’ cold body. “I made you this.” Thalia presented a small pendent with the shape of a skull on it.
“What’s this?”
“This was once the sigil of Katabasis Keep, before Asclepius was banished from it and far before the Peacekeepers held it. I heard it once belonged to an ancient lord who was tainted with a madness that claimed the lives of his subjects and eventually his own.”
“What a bleak story.” Ganis took the pendent and wore it. “It’ll not repeat itself.”
“I trust it won’t.”
Hephaestion entered the room and took his position near the warm fire instead of sitting on his usual chair. He produced his pipe and started preparing it. Within a few moments he was puffing on it, filling the room with the musky smell of Ninazu’s new burning mixture.
“How are the preparations going?” Hephaestion asked of Thalia, removing the leather gloves from his cold hand.
“Pertinax and Dindrane say that the Enkashar are eager to fight, especially after hearing about Initium Keep.”
He took a deep breath and released it. “It is a tale that will make anyone’s blood boil. I wish we could move faster.”
“So do I,” Thalia said. “The people of Utyirth are not trained for such campaigns, and the Watcher hounds have just begun to join the efforts.”
“I sometimes forget that Monolos insisted their presence would remain hidden till last season. I trust his judgment was right.”
“We need to test the Enkashar in a real fight, to see how far their training gets them.” Hephaestion warmed his bare hands by the raging fire, pipe held by his teeth at the corner of his lips. He looked at Ganis and said, “You know how many you killed in Aurae Keep?”
Ganis shook her head, she did not keep count.
“A bit shy of seventy,” Hephaestion said. “That is an impressive record, I have to say.”
“It was done out of necessity, and a desire to avenge the people of Hearthdale.” She turned around, looking at the snowing sky from the window. Some snow had accumulated by the iron sides of the window, hindering her vision slightly, and the fog needed to be wiped for a clearer view. “What of Aurae Keep?”
“The Enkashar now occupy it. It helps defend Scandur, but does little for the Midland villages. We will not have much use for it once we decide to reclaim the Midland villages - whatever is left of them.”
“Did the Hearthwardens express any desire to reclaim the raided villages?”
“They insist on it.” He blew another thin strand of smoke; the pipe was nearing its end. “They think that it will be a great dishonor to their ancestors should they abandon the spot they chose to set a village. We should respect their wishes no matter how strategically unsound they are.”
“I bet they think many of our habits are strategically unsound,” Thalia noted. Sometime after Hephaestion joined the conversation, she decided to continue her carving. The gesture was not noticed by Ganis until she spoke, provoking Ganis’ eyes to fall upon her.
“In any case, keeping Aurae Keep for long would prove disadvantageous. The Scylds, no matter how little they know of war, will be quite familiar with their own structure. It would be best if a new outpost be erected, one which can defend a larger area.”
“And where will that be,” Ganis asked. It was clear to her that Hephaestion had studied the maps of Utyirth in far more depth than he revealed. The Parthan, after all, was a scholar and an expert tactician – the reason why Lyra was so keen on having him in her Ona. If he was to fight, she would rather have him by her side than not have him at all.
“There is a thin corridor of land linking the upper part of Utyirth with the lower part. It will help defend from any land attacks, but if the Scylds manage to succeed in building transport ships, it will do little to protect the Midland villages.”
Ganis knew the corridor Hephaestion mentioned. It was where she met the Scyld guards while crossing the border to the Midland villages. It was indeed, she estimated, a good position for an outpost, but it would not be enough.
“When I was in Initium Keep,” Ganis said, “I would often hear the guards speak of skirmishes they had with the Midlanders. It seemed to be successful more often than not.” She paused for a moment, shifting her attention to the dancing fires and imaging them telling a tale. “Do you think the forces we managed to raise stand any chance against the Scylds?”
Hephaestion chuckled. “I think that the Scylds have little chance against us. What concerns me would be the cost of our victory…to both sides.”
6
Hephaestion stood on the wooden walls of Scandur observing Sigurd training the Enkashar on battle movements. Ganis climbed the stairs and stood beside him, watching the Enkashar alongside him.
At a shout from Sigurd, the block of soldiers started marching forward; another got them to stop; another got them to jug; another got them to charge; another got them to stand still and root themselves in the ground defensively; and yet another got them to split into seven columns.
They were all basic maneuvers which would be easy to implant as reflexes and have them used amidst the chaos of battle. Even such little training would prove invaluable against the foe they were about to face, the undisciplin
ed Scylds.
“They surpass my expectations,” Hephaestion said, casually stroking his curly brown hair after a gust of wind blew it out of place.
“The Enkashar is starting to look like a professional army. Sigurd trained them well.”
Hephaestion hummed. “I have been thinking about a way to get close to Naa’tas, and no matter how I view our situation it always leads to only one option.”
“An option implies that there is more than one choice,” Ganis said.
“A poor choice of word from my part,” Hephaestion corrected, slightly irritated by Ganis’ notice of his error.
“There is always a choice of abandoning the mission and making a life for ourselves here, but that’s not an option for me,” Ganis said. I long to return to Nosgard.
“You said ‘ourselves’.” He smiled. “Perhaps you are finally becoming one with the Ona.”
“It’s a slow process for one such as I.” She looked at him briefly before returning her gaze to the Enkashar. “The more I think about it the more I understand that the Council purposefully established the Peacekeeper Core the way it is; without a sense of unity.”
“They knew what unity would be. An enemy divided is an enemy defeated, we Parthans say.”
“If only I was born Parthan,” Ganis said. “Perhaps I wouldn’t have faced Naa’tas alone.”
“Have you forgotten the lessons of Kismet?” Another gust of wind blew Hephaestion’s hair undone, this time he let it be. “All your experiences and actions led to you being where you are with the necessary skills to address our current situation. If things were not as such, you would undoubtedly not be in a position to make a difference, not like here.”
Ganis took the words silently, absorbing the lessons they carried.
“In the last fight,” Hephaestion continued, “when we face Naa’tas, I will fight until one of us parts this world.” He looked at Ganis - his eyes bore no doubt or concern. “Promise me not to interfere.”
Ganis smiled. “I promise you that I’ll do nothing but interfere. If one of the Ona is to die, they won’t be alone. The others will not let either of us face Naa’tas alone. We will face him as one and die if we must. It’s the way of our Ona and I’ll respect it no matter how poorly attuned I am.”
“So be it. This is an arrangement I will not contest.” His eyes went to the Enkashar once more. They were engaged in a combat exercise, using wooden weapons to fight in two organized groups separated by the color of their tabard – red and blue.
“Anything new regarding our mission?” Ganis asked. She followed Hephaestion’s eyes back to the training Enkashar.
“Eirene informed me that it is common for the Scylds to take in new converts. We will take advantage of it and infiltrate Scyldur.”
“That leaves Eirene, Thalia, Dindrane and I out of it. They are a patriarchal society and there will be little we can do from within as women.”
“Ninazu has a solution.” A smirk made its way onto Hephaestion’s face. It was not a menacing expression, but it left Ganis unsettled – like a child about to be tricked by other children.
“Solution?”
“A potion that will make you…fit in.” He eyed her body, top to bottom. “To turn Dindrane, Thalia and yourself into men.”
For a moment Ganis was speechless in disbelief. Her jaw dropped, revealing a slight gap in her pale face, but it was short-lasted. She laughed. “That’s not even possible.”
“Ask Ninazu if you do not believe me. You know how incapable he is of joking.”
It was real. “A potion as such would take some time to develop, and I doubt you came up with this plan for as long and convinced Ninazu to research such concoction.”
“He discovered it by accident, I hear, while trying to discover your requested potion, the one which could condense and preserve blood.” Hephaestion kept smiling; the thought of having the women experience the other gender in such manner appealed to his humor.
But his attitude change swiftly. “We might be split once more, Ganis. This unsettles me quite a bit.”
“After being reunited once more.” She took a moment for herself. The red Enkashar battalion seemed to be gaining an advantage on their opponents, forcing them back from their position and capturing a few as prisoners. Ganis did not know the details of the exercise, but could make out the outcome with relative ease.
“I’ll not part from Eos.” Her hand fell on the Progenitor Blade. It was a comforting touch that made her feel safe and at ease. “Other than that I’m willing to do anything necessary for the mission to succeed.”
Hephaestion nodded.
She left the Parthan captain to continue studying the Enkashar and stepped down from the wall, hand still resting on Eos’ hilt. I will not part from Eos.
7
It was time to march north. The Enkashar were armed and ready, a fierce force driven by their desire for revenge and justice. Ganis often thought about the consequences of introducing them to such violence, war and the destruction that comes with it, but then she would quickly remember how vulnerable they would be without it. It was a necessity if they wanted to survive.
Watcher, Enkashar and Highborn alike marched together. The small army was quicker than Hephaestion anticipated them to be, and by a stroke of random luck they managed to avoid encountering a Scyld force on their way, alerting the enemy of their advancement.
Surprise was their ally, and they intended to prolong this alliance for as long as possible, as the teachings of Hephaestion dictated.
A steed was a rare luxury to afford in Utyirth, and forty-three were given to the Parthan allies from different Midland villages to help in the effort. Hephaestion decided that they would be too valuable to risk on the battlefield, but crucial for scouting and the quick delivery of messages.
The Parthans, all but Sigurd, rode on steeds, and Ganis maneuvered hers next to Hephaestion’s – Sarndall was the name of her mare. “How do you intend to build this outpost?” Ganis asked.
“I do not know yet. We will use whatever we can find to build a palisade at first, then we will think of how best to secure our position. Perhaps we can dig instead of building. A ditch between us and the enemy would still give us higher grounds.” He held his reins loosely, allowing his body’s natural reflexes to counter the movement of the horse. Hephaestion rode with uncanny grace.
Ninazu galloped next to them. He produced a leather pouch and threw it to Ganis. She caught it reflexively. “These are your pills,” he said. “Keep them with you and make certain they stay dry. Once you start taking them, stop feeding without the powder I made you.” While he started galloping away, heading to Thalia, Ganis took out one of the pills and was about to throw it in her mouth. “Stop!” he shouted.
“What?” She held on to the pill, readying it in her hand.
“Not now. I will tell you when to start taking them. We still do not know when we will go to Scyldur. It may be many seasons till then and I would rather not have the natives observe the transformation.” He paused for a moment, contemplating the results of such exposure, and said, “I will tell you when.” He galloped away to Thalia.
Ganis retuned the pill in the pouch, closed it securely and stowed it away in her red armor. She felt the weight of Thalia’s new gear, but also the freedom of movement it allowed her. It was a comfortable and practical suit of armor, and she found the burgundy color quite to her liking.
“Once we arrive and assess the new position,” Hephaestion said, “we will make way to Scyldur, leaving King Ragnar behind to care for the preparations, perhaps even Percival or Dindrane would stay behind.”
“Could I by any chance convince you that it would be best for me to stay with the Enkashar?” Ganis said. She tried to keep her tone serious with little success.
“And miss on such an opportunity, to see what it is like being on the other side?” Hephaestion chuckled. His voice was made coarse with age and a lifetime of smoking.
She looked towards the hor
izon, at a vista she could not recognize, and watched it come closer. It would be a long journey for the Parthans, and a revolutionary one for the Midlanders.
Part III: And All Path’s End