Chapter 3: Where Dawn is Found
‘There is no such thing as true immortality for neither living beings nor objects, for even gods die when they are forgotten.’ Philosophical Lessons from Utyirth (Volume I: Conversations).
1
A long road lay ahead of the four Parthans determined to bring proofs of demise, as the local guard called it, of wanted outlaws. Sigurd had with him a similar parchment to that which he and Ganis had seen when they turned in the bounty for Scavenger at Hearthdale’s Guard House.
From the many names and figures written on the list, the whereabouts of only three groups were known. Ganis thought that it was more a subject of their habits than that of secrecy. The natives, it seemed to her then, were not a people fond or capable of keeping secrets. The bounty offered for the three groups they sought was enough to sustain the Ona’s financial needs for a time long enough that they needed not bother with finding the missing ones.
On the march, Pertinax explained his intended plan. “We will head towards the nearest group of bandits sighted to the north. With Pax’s aid, we will find them.” He turned to face Monolos and ordered, “Monolos, scout ahead of us for now, and when we approach something of note make certain that it is investigated. I would rather not have us ambushed.”
Pertinax produced his comb and ran it through his grease-covered straight white hair. “Yet, we cannot afford to waste time searching for any of our targets. If we are incapable of finding a mark within three days, we will proceed to the next one and, perhaps, consider searching for them on our way back.”
“This first group, what is their strength?” Ganis asked of Pertinax.
“Six have been reported, but I would rather not put my trust in the reports. We should approach them as if their numbers are uncertain.”
“I agree, captain. The villagers seemed rather incompetent. Having to deal with them disturbs me.” Ganis started feeling comfortable with revealing her thoughts to the Parthans, after nearly spending a third of a season amongst them. It was a quicker adjustment for her than usual.
The comment did not shock Pertinax, or any of the others for that matter. They were well aware of who she was, even with the few missing details they did not know.
“Lyra would not agree with you,” Pertinax said, “neither would Pax, I would like to think. Although they seem to contradict your notion of a worthy people, as I am inclined to think all people are, they have a quality hidden within them that makes them stronger than you would imagine.” He paused before stressing, “Something that you cannot yet grasp.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Resist your scholarly urge, captain,” Monolos said. “That, and your instructive past. It’s important for her to find her own answers.”
Pertinax nodded. “I am afraid Monolos is right, Ganis. You should be the one to enlighten yourself regarding this question.”
“At least she’s honest now. Right, Screo?” Monolos said, signaling a few meaningful gestures to his hawk.
Ganis, worried for her secret, asked, “When wasn’t I honest?”
“From the moment we met, you have been trying to deceive us. Yet we are all aware of it. For you to be part of our Ona we need to be attuned to each others’ senses. It is not an easy feat to achieve, and it would be impossible without releasing your true self.” He looked at the sky then, with a quick throw, released his majestic bird.
“I have no intentions of being a part of your Ona. Once this quest is over, I will tread a path different from yours. My mission is to capture or kill Naa’tas and bring an end to the threat of his cult. I was told nothing about becoming your tenth member, or of replacing Lyra.”
“I truly pray for Pax to guide your path,” Pertinax said. “Ganis, we do not know where our journey will take us or for how long, but if there is anything certain, it is that we would be far more likely to succeed if we act as one. You will never replace Lyra just as she will never replace you.
“If you do not wish to join us, in a Parthan meaning, then you should not. It is not something to be forced.”
“You have an odd manner of speaking in riddles, all of you.”
After a moment of silence inspired by the short conversation between the Nosgardians, Pertinax continued, “Since we do not have the subterfuge skills of Percival or Dindrane, we need to plan our assaults carefully and early. An incomplete Ona is a weakened Ona. The first step to overcome our weakness is to acknowledge it.”
Monolos and Sigurd nodded agreeably.
Although she had not grasped the entirety of Pertinax’s intention, Ganis mimicked the others; signaling a false understanding which was ignored yet noticed.
2
The Parthans spotted a rising smoke at the forest’s edge. Screo was sent to investigate. The hawk reported that the source of the fumes came from a group of men preparing camp.
It was nearly dark when the bandits were found by the Parthans, giving the four warriors great guise under the cover of night and trees. They sneaked closer to the bandits and armed their bows with the arrows crafted by the twins. The Parthans hid behind the ancient trees of the forest.
Near the edge of the woods, snow thickened as grasslands seeped into the trees. Six bandits were accounted for and, judging by the tracks, there were no others. Having an engagement plan prepared, the Parthans were ready to attack their foes one after the other, as they had done with the first group of unlucky bandits.
Just as Sigurd was about to fire his bow and slash his way into the enemy’s bonfire-lit camp, an idea struck Pertinax, and he delayed the Turian’s order. Stand down, he gestured with his right arm.
Having already built the enthusiasm for a coming battle, Sigurd was disappointed.
Pertinax carefully approached Ganis and whispered, “Care to demonstrate your skill?”
Surprised, but pleased with the request, Ganis prepared her masterwork sword, the very same one she took from the first group of bandits. She circled around the criminals and positioned herself behind them, in their blind spot. Unlike the others, she favored a melee fight with no projectiles to even the odds. They are only six! This should be easy, she thought.
After taking a deep breath, Ganis leaped from her cover and slit the throat of the bandit closest to her. Alarmed by the sudden intrusion, the other five outlaws stood, shocked for a moment at the unexpected attack, and dashed at Ganis while unsheathing their rusted weapons, releasing a ring of iron rubbing on wooden sheaths.
Just as she was about to tap into her hidden powers, Ganis remembered that she had not yet revealed them to the others. So it seems I have gotten comfortable. One after another, blows were struck against her, but they all fell on weightless air. She parried and dodged with incredible ability. She was untouchable.
Once she noted the technique of her foes, Ganis changed her stance to an offensive one; striking with a flurry of slashes and pierces. They were overwhelmed, in spite of their numbers. Her blade stood parallel to her body and swiftly struck relentlessly. They could do nothing but defend.
Then it was time to end it. Using the strength from both arms, Ganis swung her majestic blade towards a dueler who had tripped amidst her melee. When her blade met her foe’s, her sword shattered it and split the man’s head evenly. Blood gushed from the wound in a puddle of dark red marking the spotless snow.
Driven by bloodlust, she impaled the other bandit rushing towards her and freed her reflecting blade by splitting the man in two. Such a fine blade, she thought. Her admiration of the weapon dulled her senses for a moment and allowed one of the outlaws to gain favorable footing. As he directed his blade towards Ganis’ head, three arrows plunged into his spine. Two left.
The remaining bandits attempted to flee, but headed towards the hidden Parthans. Ganis heard them scream once they reached the bushes, gutted down by her allies. The fight was over, but an inconvenient surprise awaited Ganis.
As the Parthans abandoned their cover to head towards her and start looting, an arrow flew
towards Ganis’ back. Her keen senses allowed her to take notice and react to it. Yet her reflexes would not suffice without the enhancement of the Dark Gift. In the blink of an eye, Ganis caught the arrow just before it pierced her heart, the tip touching her skin and drawing a single drop of blood. She sensed it trickling down her chest, but the cut was hidden to the eye.
Sigurd threw his dagger into the woods and a shortly caused a screech. The bandit was hit. Monolos rushed into the darkness to finish the assassin off. The others remained by Ganis, staring at their newest ally.
“I believe now would be a good time to explain what you have been hiding,” Pertinax ordered. Unlike his previous friendly conversations or authoritative commands, he spoke with a judgmental tone, eyeing her cautiously.
“Have I harmed the group in any way so far?”
“Not yet.”
“Have you been hiding things from me?”
“Yes, we all have. There are things we will not share until you earn our trust.”
“Then I have done exactly what you have been doing, but seemed to be a little less cautious. You know about runes and you know that they do not explain what I just did.”
“We do, and we also know that you stand alive here by no natural feat.”
Ganis took a deep breath. “The gap in my history is no trick. It is because it truly did stop for a time. There was a time when I was no longer among the living, and Lord Asclepius brought me back. It was a sacrifice that needed to be done to defeat the Pale Behemoth. In return, I requested to be revived. Though, I did not expect it to be in that form.”
“What are you?” Pertinax asked, the other two standing behind him, in a partially ready stance.
“I am moroi, but I am also a little more. I can stand the natural light at a small cost.” Her identity was no longer a subject of secrecy. She lifted her blade and licked at the blood staining it.
Pertinax grimaced in disgust. “That is not a pleasant site.”
“You ask for truth yet reject what it reveals. Do you not see the paradox in that?”
“She speaks true,” a deep voice rose from behind Pertinax. It was Sigurd’s. “As long as she speaks true, I mind not her actions.” He looked at Pertinax, eyes as sharp as a hawk’s, and said, “You shouldn’t either.” Sigurd, done with his generous words, continued to collect the heads of their victims.
“Sigurd has a valid point,” Monolos added. “Although I don’t like what has been revealed, I prefer it over the alternative.”
Pertinax hummed. He took a moment to calculate his next words then said, “They are right. I accept what you are and who you are to us. Do as you wish as long as it is in the spirit of the Ona.”
With much to think about, the four Parthans started looting in silence. Now, however, they needed to loot far less than before.
Ganis felt the tension rising from her comrades after exposing her truth, yet she hoped her task would distract her.
3
After all the traveling and the strenuous raid, it was time for the Parthans to rest.
Sigurd went hunting while his companions prepared shelter. Pertinax carefully fixed the fire in a small clearing within the woods. The campfire was kept small and controlled in order to avoid having a large smoke draw unwelcomed guests. Delicately, using as few fingers as possible, the Parthan captain fed the controlled fire with small wooden branches and logs.
Monolos took the first watch along with his animal companion. Ganis remained seated by the young fire. It did not take Sigurd long to catch their meal, an overly large deer. He arrived with the dear on his back, approached the fire, and dropped the deer next to Ganis.
“Eat!”
Shocked by the sudden gesture, Ganis thanked him.
Sigurd responded with a low-pitched grunt. He then unsheathed his hunting dagger and hastily skinned the deer. Sigurd’s way of skinning was incomparable to that of Thalia’s. He abused the carcass and tore its hide while splitting it from the meat beneath it.
“May I?” Ganis pointed to the deer and the produced a skinning knife from her boot.
The rugged Turian dug his dagger into the carcass and left it for Ganis. Before skinning the beast, Ganis dug her teeth into the animal’s neck and forced the clotting blood into her mouth. Sigurd was the only one who did not object to the act; instead he curiously observed in his usual silence.
Once fed, Ganis continued to delicately skin the beast, trying to fix the damage Sigurd had caused with his earlier attempt.
“It will take us time to cook this with the fire we have,” Pertinax noted.
Ganis then cut a few small chunks and impaled them on a wooden skewer. “You have not prepared the fire for cooking. Perhaps you expect me to hold this till it roasts.”
Pertinax pulled two pairs of tied sticks and placed them opposing to one another atop the fire. “Actually I have.”
While they patiently waited for their meal, Ganis seized the opportunity to speak her mind. “You must have many questions.”
Monolos vigilantly asked, “Do your feeding habits not disgust you? Do you not feel an urge to turn on us? Do you not suffer from continuous insatiable hunger?”
“No, no and no.”
“Do you view us as food?” Pertinax asked with no intention of masking his suspicions.
“It is not the same as with your food. I have never thought of you as such.”
“Do you feel pain?” Sigurd asked.
“Yes, but I have grown accustomed to it. Besides, when you know that you regenerate completely, the thought, at least, stops hurting.”
“Is it true that you heal remarkably fast?” Monolos asked.
“Yes I do, if I am well fed. I am also fairly resistant to poisons and diseases.”
“And the sun?”
“Lord Asclepius made certain that it wouldn’t be a hindrance.”
The Parthans continued to ask Ganis their questions, Monolos taking more than his fare share. During the conversation, Monolos mentioned that Ninazu had accidentally discovered a potion that stopped blood from clotting. They started to accept, she thought.
When the meat was cooked, it was Ganis’ turn to stand watch. She ventured into the dark woods. A few moments later, she heard a familiar whisper. It was the same voice that directed her to the blade she found. This time, however, there was no one nearby to speak to her.
The voice echoed from within the forest. Following it, Ganis found that she had treaded too far from her comrades.
Suddenly it spoke once more. I have been with you for some time now, Ganis, moroi from Nosgard.
“Show yourself!” she commanded, scanning her environment.
I never hid. You simply did not want to see me, young one, the voice spoke yet again. I am close enough to be touching you.
Infuriated, Ganis unsheathed her sword. Looking down at it, she noticed the blade glow and Ganis reflexively dropped it, “What is the meaning of this?”
It is as it seems. I am the voice of your blade. I have waited for nearly a century to find one worthy of wielding me, the blade projected into Ganis’ thoughts.
“Have I grown mad?”
No. You are as sane as you ever were. The blade was silent for a moment, and then it added, My name is Eos, and I was once a leader of men. It was selfish of me to assume your consent for my aid. Do you accept it?
Shocked, Ganis found herself speechless. A moment of silence passed before she broke it, “At what cost?”
At the cost of mutual aid. I seek a hero to save my people from extinction, and I know that you seek a way to defeat Naa’tas. Neither of us would be able to accomplish his goal without the other. It is a fair arrangement, I believe.
“I will need to consult my captain before making such a promise.” Ganis struggled to determine if Eos was a blessing or a curse.
The time is not yet right for you to reveal me to the others. I will let you know when it is. The blade, Ganis knew, at the very least was wise.
“Know, though, that
I will not aid you unless your presence is revealed.”
Then we have an agreement. Eos spoke no more.
After the brief conversation was concluded, Ganis picked up Eos and returned it in the sheath Thalia made for her. It was time for her to return to her duties.
4
The list led the Parthans north of Hearthdale. Their next target, a pair of twins who killed and terrorized merchants and travelers heading out from Hearthdale, had left a trail of conspicuous leads to their whereabouts. They seemed to be provoking the authorities to pursue them, leaving various taunts and indications about what they did and what they intended to do. It was surprising to the Parthans that their victims did not avoid them.
A dark tavern amidst the lonely traveling cobble-stone path met the Parthans. It stood alone where the roads crisscrossed, a shabby wooden structure in dire need of maintenance labeled by a sign naming it ‘The Wandering Trader’.
The four hooded warriors crossed through the iron-reinforced wooden door, and into the tavern. Although Ganis thought that she and her crew would stand out, their rugged and dirty appearance matched that of the other shady patrons. They calmly moved towards the first available table they saw. It was at the far end corner of the candle-lit interior.
Looking at his three companions, Pertinax decided it would be best if he himself fetched the drinks, for none of the Parthans accompanying him were subtle enough to ensure them remaining unnoticeable - Ganis was a creature he still knew little of, Monolos was a madman with a hawk, and Sigurd was violently blunt. I did not plan this at all, he thought on his way back, almost spilling the contents of the wooden mugs as he walked. He reached the table without incident.
While Ganis prepared the pipe Commodore Habitus had given her, the one she had forgotten about for a time, the other three slowly sipped at their mead, scanning the room for their targets. They knew nothing of them other than being twins.
Thus they hoped to find two identical faces, or at least resembling ones.
Everything they do there reeks of incompetence, Ganis thought, eyeing the broken tables and loose screws.
“Found them!” staring at two massive men, Ganis whispered. She puffed a short stream of smoke from her slender ironwood pipe. “What are your orders, captain?”
Pertinax’s grease-covered hair gleamed in the dancing candle-light as he turned to where the moroi stared. “These ones are Sigurd’s. When it comes to big fellows, he will not have it any other way.”
Chugging his large pint of mead, at least twice as large as the other two, Sigurd directed a stare, with intent to kill, at his targets. The Turian then stood up and removed his brown hooded cloak, allowing it to drop on the ground, revealing his two rusted blades which had been unsheathed in the process – Thalia’s iron still needed work.
With no warning, Sigurd unleashed a staggering roar to warn his targets.
Once the twins heard their foe, they turned around and steeled themselves, one with a spiked wooden club and the other with a large rusted great sword.
“Your lives are forfeit!” Sigurd grunted.
The twins laughed as they looked at each other and exchanged incomprehensible speech to the Parthans. The two words Ganis understood were ‘fool’ and ‘dummy’. Aroused by the commotion, a few other patrons armed themselves in hopes of participating in the brawl.
From atop the Parthan’s table, Sigurd jumped down and started his dash towards the two outlaws. Taking the blunt of the club’s blow delivered by one of the twins on his chest, the Turian rammed his shoulder into the weapon’s wielder, disarming him. Ganis was amazed at the thickness of Sigurd’s unscathed skin - he was truly worth of the title Ironskin, she thought. He set his eyes on his second target.
While her comrade engaged in his brawl with the twins, Ganis put aside her pipe in the corner of one of the windows, to keep it safe, and prepared herself. Unlike Sigurd, the others did not remove their cloaks before engaging their assailants, for they were taken by surprise. A female customer charged at Ganis’ back with a drawn dagger, but was easily countered by Eos, the sentient blade, which split her in two, separating the torso from her hips.
Monolos and Pertinax fought side by side as three ruffians charged at them. The Parthans blocked and parried with incredible coordination, making way for an attack with each fluid motion. Within a few moments they stood while their opponents did not. Knowing that the strangers were far beyond their skill, the other patrons sheathed their weapons and refrained from joining in.
After having driven the standing twin to a corner, Sigurd disarmed his adversary and drew his iron blades into the ruffian’s chest. He then picked up his rusted great sword and fiercely decapitated the cornered twin. Enraged by the death of his brother, the remaining twin charged at Sigurd’s back, smashing him into the wooden wall; a loud cracking sound indicated it was near to breaking. During the mindless attack, Sigurd’s foe found his opponent’s muscular right arm wrapped around his unprotected neck. Sigurd squeezed the life out of the man.
Having achieved their goal, the Parthans calmly eased into their booth while their Turian companion took the tokens of their deed. Another free round of mead was offered to the warriors by the bartender, in hopes that it would keep them from causing any more harm.
“I think I will be taking my meal with me,” while staring at one of the female corpses, Ganis declared.
“You might as well. Your feeding habits are starting to feel natural, which disturbs me more than the feeding itself,” Monolos murmured.
Ganis remembered her exchange with Eos, and she thoughtfully started preparing her pipe with some of the limited stock she had been keeping in a small purse tucked in her right boot. The pattern of her inhalation and gusting indicated to Pertinax her preoccupation.
Slowly sipping the last of their mead, the Parthans stood up and headed out of the tavern, leaving the mugs by the bar with three loud thumps. On her way out Ganis grabbed the foot of the carcass she had mentioned earlier and dragged it behind her.
“You should be more respectful to the dead,” Pertinax noted.
Ganis then lifted the corpse to her shoulder and carried it, sulking.
5
The Parthans headed west towards their third and final goal. There were no dense woods to hide their presence in the grasslands that lay ahead of them, only hills that betrayed the presence of those who were sought.
With some raw meat remaining from Sigurd’s enormous catch and a fresh corpse for Ganis, the four Parthans had no need to search for food.
Without warning, Ganis dug her elongated white fangs into the neck of the once-woman, in spite of her foul odor.
“At least notify us before doing that,” Monolos complained. He eyed the bleeding neck of the corpse intently, grinning.
Driven by hunger, Ganis ignored the comment and continued to feed. The others waited for her to finish before they prepared their meal, fearing that it would chase away their appetite.
Another small campfire was prepared. Recalling one of her earliest conversations with Monolos about his concoctions, Ganis said, “You said that Ninazu can craft a potion to preserve blood. Correct?”
“Yes, and I believe he has the required ingredients ready,” Monolos replied, inspecting his hawk for any scratches or scabs, as he usually did. Screo’s grey eyes wandered as Monolos lifted his wings and separated his feathers. Whenever Monolos’ hand had withdrawn far enough from Screo, the hawk would quickly shake his head and puff his feathers, returning each feather where it belonged.
Ganis pondered the idea. She knew that a small amount of blood would not last her long. Asclepius had sentenced her to a difficult fate. “Is there any way to thicken blood?”
“You will have to ask Ninazu.”
“Do all Turians excel at their craft?” It was an abrupt question, guided by nothing more than her curiosity.
“From a young age we are taught to seek excellence regardless of consequences,” Sigurd replied. He then rested on the g
round, laying perfectly still.
Ganis had always been intrigued by Sigurd’s avoidance of unnecessary motion, and was equally reluctant to inquire about it. Sitting by the warm fire, she had just begun to relax when her new friend, the sentient blade, addressed her.
It is time for us to get acquainted, Eos projected into Ganis’ thoughts.
Ganis attempted to think her words instead of speaking them. I have so many questions.
It worked!
Ask and I will reply.
Who are you?
In life, I was Eos Teeban, the Progenitor. I led a group of men into a new way of thought that continue to guide their kin till this day. I convinced my people that it was necessary for us to choose those with strength and constitution to breed and continue the line. I myself lived through three generations since the conception of this philosophy and witnessed my people rise above all others.
Yet like all things living, I died. Ever since, this has been my form. I continued to watch over them as my successors wielded me. The eldest of my living people witnessed the days when I had advised their leaders, but the new generations would not recognize me anymore.
As the years passed, and my teachings developed, the Highborn - my kin - began driving themselves into extinction. Only then was it clear to me that I was gravely mistaken and my teachings were all wrong, or at least an anachronism. The Highborn grew arrogant and held extreme prejudice against those weaker than them.
Ganis’ thoughts deepened. Throughout all these centuries, you found none more suitable than us?
No. You are stronger and faster than any of the Highborn. If you challenge their leader and defeat him, you will gain considerable influence. I am not certain if they would allow you to lead them though, or if you would want to, but I know that with the aid of your allies you might be able to convince them to abandon their prejudice ways. To stand against Naa’tas, the peoples will need to unite.
Unite, Ganis thought, has been a word far too common these days. How can we achieve this?
You are the key to the success of such plan. If you manage to show the Highborn that collective strength multiplies that of the individual, you will make a powerful case. I have never seen anyone fight as fluidly in unison as your group.
At the mark of Eos’ conclusion, flashes of his own memory were projected into Ganis’ head. She experienced the making of the blade, the heat of fire and hammering of steel, and the means by which Eos’ soul had been transported into it, a ripping of the very fabric of being.
It was the art of the Unnamed Blade; a craft developed by the Elder themselves, the long-gone creators of all things mystical, to preserve life, in a twisted and unnatural way. Ganis thought that perhaps Thalia would be able to craft such tools and gain the power to bestow immortality, as Eos had been blessed.
6
As Pertinax had anticipated, the four companions arrived at the final destination too late. Their targets had moved. Screo confirmed Pertinax’s suspicions once it returned after scouted the area. With no trail to lead them, the Parthans had no choice but to return to Hearthdale.
The town of Hearthdale had not changed much since the Parthans’ departure, except for a few nearly-completed buildings which had been mere scaffolds when Ganis had last seen them. As soon as they spotted two guards leaving the tavern, Ganis and the others noticed the new armor and weaponry they wore.
Instead of the ragged cloth and torn leather that once provided them with little protection, they wore masterwork leather armaments reinforced with steel, and held blades resting uniformly in their sheaths. Finally, their brown cloaks elegantly matched their uniform; Thalia had to add her touch of aesthetics.
“I think they might have gotten more involved than they ought to,” Ganis said, eyes continuing to scan the locals.
“Indeed we have,” Pertinax responded, stressing the ‘we’. “I should have been more elaborate when explaining to Thalia her duties.”
“You were quite clear, captain,” Monolos noted. “Thalia couldn’t produce anything less.”
They continued into the inn.
Once inside, Percival and Dindrane rushed towards them. A loud cheer roared from the other patrons as the twins greeted the travelers.
“Finally! A fitting welcome.” Pertinax casually waved at the crowd, smiling left and right to the strangers while keeping his head motion to a minimal, in an attempt to preserve his hair’s fashion.
“Pertinax the Second, ladies and gentlemen,” Dindrane announced. “Never to turn down an opportunity to bask in praise.” The inn echoed with laughter.
The crowd cheered and clapped even harder, some tapping their mugs on the wooden tables.
“These people barely know you, and you them. Don’t you find it odd that they greet you as such?” Ganis asked.
“On the contrary, I found it suspicious that they did not do so when we first came.”
“Enough play. We need to turn in the bounty,” Sigurd impatiently interrupted Pertinax’s delight. The Turian had no tact.
“I would also like to be relieved to check on the pups,” Monolos requested.
“The three of you go ahead. Finish you duties and gather the others. I will make certain our rooms are prepared.”
They scattered.
After inquiring about Eirene, Monolos headed to the orphanage to check on the pups and summon the priestess. Sigurd took the head bag, as he called it, and proceeded to collect the bounty. Ganis headed to the local blacksmith to summon Thalia and help her carry the tools she had prepared for her them. On her way back, she called Ninazu from the local alchemist and asked about Hephaestion, who was reported to be in his room at the inn.
It did not take long for the entire group to regroup. The round wooden table was busy with many objects chaotically spread by the Parthans, each displaying their contribution. The leather coin purse Sigurd had collected from the Hearthwarden sat in the center of the table, weighting down a large map brought by Hephaestion.
The tools Thalia had crafted were packed into leather-bound packages and distributed among the warriors. The master smith had forged weapons nearly identical to the favored ones they had left in Partha. Their new armor resembled that of the city watch, but was dyed black, hardened and reinforced with more steel. Sigurd’s armor was the only one which stood out, a massive bulk of steel. Finally, black hooded cloaks were meant to replace their current brown ones, distinguishing them from the guards.
Steel weapons replaced the rusted ones they bore. A dagger and a dozen throwing knives were standardized among all the packages they had been given by Thalia, yet each pack had a distinct weapon to fit the preference of whoever it was intended for.
Pertinax was given a spear, a long sword and a small round shield. Percival and Dindrane were given a short sword each, as well as a new steel-reinforced bow. Sigurd received a massive greatsword and a halberd that doubled for a walking stick. Hephaestion was given a spear, a longsword and a kite shield. For Eirene, Thalia crafted a morning star and engraved it with religious depictions of Pax. A scimitar and a small round shield, identical to Pertinax’s, were given to Monolos. Thalia crafted herself a steel reinforced quarterstaff as well as two short swords. Finally, a wrist-mounted projectile weapon and a short sword were made for Ninazu; the most intricate tool in their armory. Ninazu, however, took the liberty of modifying his own weapons to account for his poisons.
Once the new gear was distributed, the Parthans debriefed one another about the events during their separation. Hephaestion was the only one among the Hearthdale group who had made a significant discovery.
“Immediately after you left, I acquired maps of Utyirth. Comparing them to some ancient maps I had collected over the years I made an interesting discovery.” Hephaestion drew the folded maps from beneath the coin purse and unfolded them. The motion spread a strong scent of pipe smoke across the table. “I believe that our people are native to Utyirth and migrated to Nosgard only recently.”
Pertina
x’s eyes widened in conflicted intellectual curiosity. “How can you support such a wild claim?”
The philosopher then spread a rolled up parchment he carried next to the map placed amidst their conference table. A closer look at the two maps concluded that they both bore uncanny resemblance, but, judging from the age of the parchments, they had been drawn centuries apart.
Pointing at the map he had just spread, Hephaestion explained, “This map is one I found in the Parthan libraries.” Shifting his finger to the other map, he added, “And this one I acquired from a local trader. They are both maps of Utyirth. However, the one from Nosgard has none of the similar landmarks as the other, except for this structure, the beacon.” He pointed at the only common symbol of the two maps.
“What is that?” Pertinax asked.
“I believe that this lighthouse was constructed long ago to guide our people back to the homeland.” He looked at them, eyeing each, and declared, “I believe our arrival here was prophesied.”
Disturbed by the discovery, Pertinax shifted the dialogue and asked, “Have you discovered anything about Naa’tas?”
“Not yet. The villagers seem to be reluctant to mention him. I believe that they are hiding something from us - something we have not earned the right to be informed of. What about you?” Hephaestion asked of Pertinax.
Taking a deep breath, Pertinax explained their journey in great detail. Before continuing with the part where Ganis revealed herself, Pertinax eyed Ganis for permission. It was granted. He then revealed her secret. The Parthans were shocked, but relieved. It was better than they had suspected.
After both groups had shared their experiences, Eos decided it was time to expose himself. There is one more thing you need to know, he projected to the Parthans.
Recognizing the voice, Ganis hastily said, “There is one last discovery I have not disclosed.” She unsheathed Eos, temporarily unsettling the Parthans, and then placed the blade amidst the table, pushing the coin purse to the side, and explained, “The name is Eos, the Progenitor Blade.”
Thalia smiled, unconcerned. “You were right. A blade as such always bears a name.”
My name is Eos Teeban, and I once was...
The Parthans listened carefully as Eos told them of his tale. Eos spared no detail about his origin, intentions and how he became immortal; the part which interested Thalia the most.
Eos was revealed, but the Parthans had not decided yet about his offer. They had neither the information, nor had they studied the situation carefully enough to identify what they would need to capture Naa’tas.
Pertinax knew, however, that a link between Eos and Ganis had already been established, and that hiding his thoughts about it would serve no useful purpose. After all, there was much about Ganis that they came to discover in the past few days.
Their journey now led them to the beacon, which they hoped would answer Hephaestion’s questions and take them near Eos’ people, the Highborn.