Champion (14 page)

Palaran soldiers trailed behind the undead, intent on finishing them off, and were surprised to find Ganry and the giant man battling. The giant was quickly surrounded by Palarans. They kept a wary distance from him, but pointed spears in his direction. Both giant and Ganry were exhausted. Having fought with each other and then the group of undead had taken its toll. The giant stood stock still, offering no resistance, his club dropping to the ground at his feet.

“Shall we kill him, sir?” one of the soldiers asked.

“He is a rare creature and it seems a shame,” Ganry replied, uncertain of what to do. The giant of a man would have been manipulated by the General and the witches.

“What say you?” Ganry asked, moving closer to the giant. “Should I allow the men to finish you off, or do you wish to live?”

“What are your terms for my life, gnat? I doubt I would find them palatable.”

“There are no terms, just leave the battle and return to your own. I have heard of your people, you are not warlike. The witches have bewitched you. Go home to your kind, that is all I ask.”

As they spoke, a wolf arrived and approached the giant man, sniffing the air in front of him. The giant reached out and stroked the wolf’s head.

“You have bested me in battle, gnat, and yet you spare my life,” the giant said. “I would not offer you the same courtesy. My life is now yours to command, and I will swear my loyalty to you. I will not leave the field of battle, as you ask, but I will fight with you rather than against, until my debt is repaid.”

Ganry nodded his understanding. The giant would be a ferocious addition to their ranks. Today had gone well. The plan for the undead had worked and they no longer surrounded the castle. The Mirneans had retreated, their tails between their legs. But Ganry was not complacent. He knew Jeon would be back. He just needed to be certain they were ready for him.

***

Artas was feeling really pleased with himself as he rode steadily at the head of the column of the undead. He felt like the General of a huge army as they followed him away from the castle. Riley was at the front with him, and around twenty Palaran soldiers helped to keep the strays in line. Each man took their turn at blowing the horn should the corpses forget where they going.

“What shall we do with them?” he asked Riley, who rode by his side.

“I think there is our answer.” Riley pointed in front of them.

Artas followed the direction of Riley’s finger to see the wolves gathered in a large pack. There seemed to be more than when they had first arrived. Artas remembered Grecia mentioning she had sent for reinforcements. Together with his men, they would soon make short work of the grotesque task ahead, and send the human souls of these corpses on to the next life.

The work was grisly and uncomfortable, but soon all the undead were slumped on the floor in heaps, heads removed from bodies, either by sharp Palaran steel or the jaws of the wolves. There was no time to burn them, as night was quickly approaching and they needed to return to the safety of the castle. They would come back later and turn the rotting corpses into a pile of ashes, then bury the bones, as was their right.

They rode swiftly back to Castle Villeroy, the wolves running close by. As they approached the castle they could see a giant of man entering the castle gate. Artas and Riley stopped their horses to look upon the odd spectacle.

“Have you ever seen such a large man?” Artas said, more to himself than to his companion.

“No,” Riley, replied, equally baffled, “but then I’d never seen a wolfman before either, and they are proving to be good allies.”

With this, they both shook their reins, instructing the horses into a gallop. They might as well go through the gates while they were still open, for the darkness was quickly setting in.

Every one within the castle walls was utterly drained and weary. It had been a physically hard day. Grecia had informed the Queen that the wolves had been unable to track all of the witches, though they had killed a couple of lower order ones. The leader, though, was staying well out of harms way.

Ganry ordered Riley to rest. He and Artas would take first watch and awaken Riley for his turn later. Riley’s body was used to sleeping in makeshift places. Such was the life of a mercenary. This was the way of survival, the way he had learned to cope when times were rough. He found a quiet corner and huddled his legs into his body in a sitting position. Within seconds he was sleeping lightly.

Ganry and Artas supervised the wounded into the infirmary. The dead, killed on the assault of the castle, were placed in a large tent away from the main castle area. When this was over they would all get the proper burial they deserved.

The giant, who Ganry now knew as Rochmyr, had settled in with the wolfmen. He would be a good asset, so long as his loyalties were true. Despite his seemingly genuine change of sides, Ganry still had doubts. As he watched, he noticed a small boy approaching the giant. It was Cronos.

“All is well, Ganry,” the young boy said as he neared them both. “I can sense this man means me no harm. I have made another new friend on this day.”

“I hope your senses are true, young Lord, for he is a formidable fighter. I would feel happier if kept your distance from him, until we understand where his allegiances lay.”

“No, Ganry, truly,” the boy said, a slight annoyance in his tone. “I feel safe with Rochmyr, and he would be the perfect bodyguard for me, especially when Torno, my wolf protector, is fighting for our cause. Rochmyr will keep me safe, of this I am certain. He will guard me within the castle walls. We have much to learn about each other’s peoples. I know very little about the giant’s from our lands. Now is a good time to learn. After all, he is a Mirnean.”

Rochmyr picked up the boy and placed him on his shoulders. They walked off towards the castle keep where the food was being served, for a giant has a hefty appetite. Ganry watched, a little bemused at the strange sight of a nine foot man, with a small albino boy upon his shoulders. He would indeed be a formidable bodyguard for the boy, providing his intentions were true.

Night falls quickly at this time of year, and soon most of the castle grounds were empty of busy people. Many had retired to their sleeping quarters, others to the drinking establishments that remained open inside the castle walls. It had been a difficult few days and they needed the release from the stresses of battle. The touch of alcohol would provide that, and the company of close and trusted friends. The only movement came from the castle guards who walked on the battlements, watching the surrounding area for signs of danger.

Ganry sat high upon the turrets with Artas, who had his bow at the ready. A movement down in one of the courtyards caught the younger man’s attention. It was by the temporary infirmary and morgue. From this distance and in the half twilight, Artas could not be certain, but he swore he could see movement there.

“Artas, look. Down there.” Ganry pointed to the same spot he had also seen movement. “Ready your bow, I think something is amiss,” Ganry ordered.

Artas knew where Ganry was pointing, but when he looked again he noticed nothing. Perhaps their eyes were deceiving them in this murky light. Yet, the longer he stared, the more he too felt that something was there.

“There is something, yes, look at the tent doorway. Could it be….?” Artas said, unable to finish his sentence as a chill of horror crept over him.

“Yes,” Ganry confirmed his fears, “the damn witches have raised our fallen compatriots. Quickly. Shoot for the heads. Now boy, now,” Ganry cried out. “Keep shooting them, Artas, I’ll get down there as quickly as I can,” he said as he flew down the stone stairwell, calling for some of the guards to follow him.

They made their way towards the death tent.

Artas was quick with his bow, a skill he had learned as a young boy by his father. His aim was true and soon many of the undead fell with one of his arrows buried in their skulls, but there were too many, he could not shoot them all. With a growing horror he watched. From the infirmary a young woman emerged. He recognized her as one of the helpers of the wounded. She walked straight into the midst of the creatures, and was quickly surrounded. Her pitiful screams rang out in Artas’s ears. He continued to fire off more arrows, but he could not save her. Her body crumpled onto the floor, and the ungodly creatures fell upon her.

Ganry and the guards soon arrived, as did the wolves, alerted by the woman’s screams. Quickly, they set about the undead. Once again, the ground around them was littered with the headless bodies that lay still as death.

“Bah! This is a poor way to have to treat our fallen colleagues. They have given their lives for their Kingdom and now they are defiled by those damn witches,” Ganry exclaimed as Artas arrived.

The soldiers looked around, shocked, at the pile of decapitated corpses. They knew many of these men, had fought side by side. They were men who had given their lives courageously in defense of their Kingdom. This should not be happening, they should not have to suffer this indignity.

“I can cast a spell on the grounds of the castle,” Grecia told Ganry. “At least then, should a human die within these walls, they can rest in peace, safe from the wiles of the witches.”

“Do what you can to stop this vile abuse of our comrades,” Ganry said, his face looking old and tired after the day’s events.

“I will need to leave behind three of my shamans to hold the spell. That will be three less on the battle ground,” she said.

“Better that than risking the Queen and the boy to the undead,” Ganry replied, relieved that something could be done to stop this madness, at least within the castle walls.

“I have received a message,” Grecia told Ganry, before he walked away. “I was just about to find you to convey what the witches have told me.”

“What? Do you say that they have spoken with you?” Ganry was surprised. He knew she had not found the clan of witches when last they had searched.

“No, we have not spoken, but I have received a message. It was while I slept. Their power is strong and I am at my weakest when in slumber. They wish to speak with us, outside the castle gates. They assure me that they will not attack.”

“It has to be a trick!” Artas spoke up, trying to convince Ganry. It was madness to think they would not attack him. These people had no honor, lying was just one of many dishonorable acts.

“I believe they seek to retreat, if they can,” the wolf shaman said. “Their numbers are diminishing and there are only so many dead they can call upon. Yesterday’s events dealt their plans a heavy blow. Whereas we can gather in more soldiers, as this is our homeland, if needs be.”

“So, why don’t they just retreat?” Ganry asked.

Grecia thought on his question for a few seconds, before responding.

“I’m not certain. They perhaps hope to convince us to give them the boy. Their whole strategy depends on him. One last throw of the dice, maybe?”

“I will parlay with them,” Ganry agreed. “Anything to delay or stop this madness. Let’s try and determine their intentions.”

“I can’t help but think, this will not end well,” Artas interrupted.

Riley emerged into the group, hearing Artas’s warning. “What are you both discussing?” he asked. “I’ve just heard what happened here. Did we lose many?”

“The witches raised our dead, but the wolves have counteracted their spell,” Ganry explained to his new battle friend. “Artas, go rest,” Ganry said, sending the young man away. “Riley, I will sleep at your side as you watch the wall. Wake me at the crack of dawn. I need to prepare for a meeting with our enemy.”

“The General has arrived,” Cronos said to Queen Myriam as they sat eating a breakfast of breads and cheeses.

“You mean he’s at the gate?” she asked, puzzled by this statement.

“Yes, and he has come with only two soldiers by his side,” the boy replied.

“Then let us go greet him, immediately,” she said, before calling one of the servants to go in search of Ganry and inform him of the new development.

By the time the Queen’s retinue had arrived on a balcony overlooking the main gate, it was already opening. There was no sign of Ganry as yet.

General Jeon rode into the castle grounds with only two men to guard him. Whilst he hated his son’s killer, Ganry, he knew him to be honorable and that they would not slay him, just yet.

As he dismounted, Ganry was observing from another window. He stood in the room where he had instructed the guards to bring the General to. He had also sent out a message to the Queen and to Grecia, so they could be present at the meeting about to take place.

Grecia arrived first, and without speaking, she took her seat at a long table. She also had a couple of wolf men with her. They were her Seconds and would also serve to help her if this General tried any magic trickery. No one trusted this meeting. What could these witches possibly hope to achieve for there would be no forgiveness on the part of the wolves.

The General was brought up to the room. As he entered, he looked around to see who was in attendance. Ganry nodded and pulled out a chair, to which the General approached and seated himself at the end of the table. Others, who had been invited, began to arrive, with the Queen coming through the doors last. She brought in the albino boy, Cronos. He might only be eight years old, but this involved him directly. It was right for him to be here.

Ganry watched General Jeon closely. He appeared to look startled when he saw the boy.

Once all were seated, Ganry stood to speak.

“You are not welcome in the Kingdom of Palara, General Jeon, and we would request that you take your soldiers, and your witches, out of our lands.”

“The boy is to come with us. We wish only to take him back to his own lands of Mirnee. What right have you to hold him here? I consider it an act of kidnap, resulting in war!” The General said, his voice rising with every word until he was almost shouting at Ganry. He banged his hand on the wooden table, to emphasize his anger at Palara for taking the Emperor’s son as prisoner. “You will hand him over, now!”

“I hardly think that you’re in a position to make demands, General,” Queen Myriam said, calmly.

“You have no right to hold this boy prisoner,” the General said, directly to the Queen. His ice cold eyes yielding no fear.

“Let us stop playing games, Jeon,” Ganry said, not willing to continue with this farce. “We all know that the Emperor placed the boy in the safe hands of the wolf people for protection. Let’s move on from this pretense. Why are you really here?”

“Queen Myriam, your people are dying out there,” the General turned to speak with Myriam, once again. “We will continue to murder your citizens if you persist in being involved. The boy is not your problem. This is a political issue that concerns Mirnean leaders only. Your actions can be construed as an aggressive act and we are well within our rights to declare war on an aggressor. Is this what you really want Queen Myriam? If so then you are being badly advised. Give us the boy and we will leave your lands.”

“It is I that should be declaring war, General Jeon.” The Queen stood and faced the tall Mirnean General, a steely determination in her eyes. “You have invaded my lands. You are killing my people and with some evil magic spell, you are then desecrating their bodies. You, General, are already at war. The boy remains in safe hands and will be protected from you, at all costs.”

“Your foolish pride will cost your people dearly. You will have no population left by the time I have finished. As for you, Ganry de Rosenthorn, I will have the greatest of pleasure running my sword through your heart when next I find you on the battlefield.”

“You are being duped, Jeon,” Ganry said in a quiet tone, trying to calm the General. “When your son returns, the body will be an empty shell. It will not be him. Thankfully, his soul has already passed on to the next life. What you propose to do is not out of love, but out of your own selfish needs. You are a fool.”

The Genera stood, his face red with anger, his hand on his sheathed sword hilt. “I will happily end your life, here and now. You are a traitor to your land of birth, and your cowardice resulted in the loss of my son.”

Ganry, his own anger rising, stood his ground, his hand ready to unsheathe his own sword, if necessary. If only the General would listen to reason, but it was clear he was beyond any rationality.

“Stop this nonsense, both of you,” a voice shouted out. The Duchess D’Anjue entered the room. “General Jeon, you will behave in a manner expected of someone of your rank, or be a guest in our dungeons!” she said calmly, but authoritatively. “Ganry, lay down your arms, this is not the time or place for you to be disloyal to your Queen.”

The General still bristled, his anger now completely out of control.

“While your wife and child burned alive, I listened to their screams,” Jeon spat at a shocked Ganry. “My revenge will never be complete until you are dead.” He let go of his sword and turned to leave.

Ganry stood there stunned, a rage burning inside of him. He had never suspected the General was complicit in his wife and daughter’s death. Always believing the official version that they had died at the hands of bandits. Now, he knew the truth, and it burned him inside with a hatred of the man standing before him. It took all his willpower not to kill Jeon right where he stood.

As Jeon passed through the doorway, he turned sharply and spoke to the boy, Cronos. “You would do yourself a favor if you left this place and came to us voluntarily. Fewer would die. Do you want their deaths on your conscience?”

“Leave now, General, before I forget the honor of my family and have you thrown in the dungeons and executed for your crimes against my people!” Queen Myriam ordered. “Guards, see him out of the castle.”

The General and his bodyguards were quickly surrounded by Palaran soldiers. He was marched away, but the threat of death loomed over their heads while they remained in the castle grounds.

Ganry stood and watched, seething with rage. His body trembled as he attempted to control his emotions. He felt a small, soft hand slide into his own blistered, hardened fingers. When he looked down, it was Cronos who had moved to his side.

The boy said nothing, but Ganry felt an inner peace run through his mind and body. His rage dampened and the red mist before his eyes lifted. Cronos had used his gifts to reach him, simply by touching him he had eased his inner pains. The General’s words had brought back the sharp memory of his beautiful wife and daughter. It had jolted the deep pain as he once again felt their loss.

The heartbreaking memory had never really left him, but he had coped with the pangs of sadness following their deaths. But now that he had learned the truth, the torment felt as if it had only happened yesterday. His life now had new meaning, no longer was it the faceless bandits that lived in his dreams. He knew who their true murderer was. Soon, very soon, he would dig the blade of his sword into that wicked and cruel heart, and extinguish the life of the man who had done so, to theirs.