“But dad, I really want to see it for myself!” the boy insisted.

“I told you, that is no place for children. You are only six years old, Ymdaton. Grow up a little more to visit such events,” Hamysbir was unmoving in the face of son’s pleas.

“It will be years till I can see the battle, let me at least see the celebration of victory. All warriors of your crew will be there, telling stories of courage and glory! I want to hear them too! When was the last time that you told me about your journeys!” Ymdaton looked as if he was about to burst into tears, yet he did not allow himself to do so out of sheer stubbornness.

His father sighed and walked away. The child thought that all his efforts were in vain. To his surprise, Hamysbir returned after some moments with an axe in one hand and sharpening stone in other.

“Well then, nothing in this life comes without struggle. There are still three days before the celebration. Sharpen this weapon for me and I will take you to the feast,” the man handed the boy both tools.

Ymdaton was visibly relieved. With a ringing laugh he ran to the inner courtyard of his house. On the way he also fetched a piece of linen cloth which would be needed for his labours. There the boy sat on the bench, spread the rag before him, put the stone upon it and, after measuring the right angle, began sharpening the axe.

To think of it, he never saw his father take this particular weapon away from home. Soon he understood why. The metal was unyielding. He worked on it for a full hour without even slightly forming the edge. Ymdaton did not give up. He continued labouring until the late evening, missing the dinner. He went to sleep completely exhausted with an unbreakable intent to continue tomorrow. The next day his arms ached as if they were on fire. Still, he continued his task.

Monotonous movements fatigued both physically and emotionally. Few times he lost attention and the axe slipped in his hands, slashing at fingers. The boy bandaged wounds and returned to work. By the second evening the blade started to sharpen, yet not fast enough. He had less than a day to finish his job. Next morning the child discovered that he got the angle of the edge a bit wrong. The time until noon was spent correcting it. Two hours before the celebration the axe was not exactly dull, yet far from being truly sharp. But the boy had no more time and decided to present his work as it was.

Ymdaton found his father in his personal chambers, already dressed for the event. The son offered the weapon in wearily trembling hands. Hamysbir obviously noticed the tremors and bandages. He took the blade, studying it. The boy prepared to be turned down.

“You have shown more determination than I could have imagined. I allow you to accompany me, my son,” to his great surprise, heard the boy. He smiled, his heart filling with joy.

The feast was held in the wealthy house in the central part of Isary.

“This is the house of my commander,” told Hamysbir to his son when they approached it. The building was two storeys high, its walls were unadorned. However, in front of the facade were planted trees of a kind which Ymdaton never saw before. Instead of leaves they had green needles and the smell that they emanated was pleasing, tranquilizing.

A serf led them from the entrance into the courtyard. There, in the open air, tables were set, at which many warriors already sat, talking, laughing, drinking wine and eating. At the inner walls of the house dozens of shields hung.

The boy examined emblems drawn upon shields. Just recently he had studied Ahyt’s Journey with his mentor, so images of animals told clear stories to him. There was a swordfish, the born warrior, carrying its weapon from its birth to its death; there was a seahorse, steadfast in its beliefs, holding with its tail so it would never retreat; there was an eel, the trickster; there was a turtle, the wise, never travelling without its armour, thus living the longest life; there was a whale, the mightiest, it said that it could battle giants of the depths; here was a shark, the unrelenting, never stopping before any challenge, it was the shield of his father that it was drawn upon. There were also constellations: Eternal Three, protecting from evil forces, Celestial Caravan, blessing those who travel far, and others. Ymdaton saw some symbols that he did not understood: a tower, a cloud, a tree floating in the water. He could have asked the father about these, but the boy did not want to disturb him with idle questions.

Hamysbir approached the table and sat among the warriors. A man sitting close by greeted him.

“What do I see? Did you bring here your child so he can observe us getting wasted?” laughed the crewman.

“We can not live without this same way we can not live without battle, am I not right. Since I can not yet show him battle, let him see the feast,” answered Hamysbir.

Warriors continued to drink and discuss battles of the past. Musicians were brought in to provide a pleasing ambience.

“Only half of us were present Uryr, why some of you don’t tell the others what happened here?” asked someone at the opposite side of the table.

Tall warrior to the left of Ymdaton rose from his seat with goblet in hands.

“Well, where do I begin,” said he, after emptying it, “As you may know, Uryr is our colony at the southern shores of big land. It was founded by house Abeneewy two hundred years ago. Few moons ago a messenger arrived from there, pleading for armed reinforcements. Apparently, Uryr was in the war of some kind.”

“To the interesting part!” shouted someone from the crowd.

“Be patient. So, when we arrived at Uryr, it borne obvious signs of battle. Damaged walls, funeral processions, lots of armed men in the streets, all of this. They were much happy to see us. Enemies almost got better of them the last time, they said. They told us that for the last moon and a half a nearby river brings squads of fierce attackers who assault city constantly.

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We thought them to be some local tribes jealous of kinani prosperity. You know, this scum annoys our kin constantly all around Sea Betwixt. The next attack proved us wrong. Indeed, soon after our arrival, next assault came. Out of the river came troops. Not by boats, not by rafts, they simply walked out of it. These soldiers were mighty and terrible to behold. Each from five cubits tall to twice the man’s height. Clad in mail from head to toes. Their armour in such a way that it was hard to discern it from their flesh. They carried weapons of mutilation in their hands: wave-bladed swords and spiked maces. Those arms looked as if they were created specially to produce most gruesome wounds.

Their troops came with siege ladders and immediately attempted to climb the walls. Due to their unusual armour, bows were largely useless against them. Only a lucky thrown stone could bring one down. They reached the top of the fortifications pretty fast. The brutal melee commenced. Enemies proved to be resistant to most blades also. Only with a mighty hit of the mace a man could hope to slay one of them. Monsters, on the other hand, killed a lot of our kin. Their brute strength was such that they could tear a warrior even with their bare hands.

Still, we fought valiantly and did not allow them any further. Stalemate was achieved. To our surprise, after few hours of skirmish, our enemies simply retreated. They were not losing, they just turned back and left.

After few days, the same thing happened. Armoured giants attacked ferociously for some hours before leaving. We observed where they did go. Troops returned to the river and submerged as one.

They can not live without water for long - someone proposed the idea. It was plausible. We held a was council in order to decide, how we could use this weakness of the enemy. It was proposed to build a dam so the river changes its course and creatures would not dare to travel as far from it as to the city.

So it was done. We repelled another attack and when foes retreated, began blocking river’s path where it was narrow. Monsters noticed us soon enough and came out of the water, attacking builders. We were ready, however. We retreated for the closest hill. When monsters tried to climb it, we pushed down massive stones, which were prepared earlier. Rocks rolled down the slopes, crushing unlucky creatures. Those who survived were finished by us in close quarters.

We managed to finish the dam not before long. The river moved away from the city, so the distance was too long for monsters to travel.

We stayed in Uryr for two more weeks, so we could be sure, that giants would not return. Then we sailed home.”

Ymdaton’s imagination painted colorful scenes of battles against monstrous creatures. He pictured his father at the river bank, standing atop the pile of giant armored corpses. The boy smiled. Warriors raised their goblets, cheering and laughing.

“To salvation of Uryr!” yelled someone and they drank.

“Those were obviously children of Umrah,” said another warrior.

“Now can Mahaton tell us the story for which he is getting promoted into High Crew?” said another warrior.

A man at the head of the table rose.

“Not that much of a tale, it was over pretty quick. Do not be disappointed. You see, when we sailed back to Isary, we thought that we were done with monsters of the river.

When my ship swayed to the side, I thought, that it was simply a strong wave. I was wrong. A creature of a kind that we fought earlier climbed from the sea on board. It was alone. Standing ten cubits tall, it was the largest of giants we saw that far. It attacked instantly. How did it swim that far into the sea? How did it manage to catch up with the ship? It did not matter because the thing already bstarted killing my men. I charged it also, striking it with a mace. The creature was not visibly harmed.

Eventually, only I and Hamysbir were left standing. Others were either dead or knocked down. I could not slay the beast. Its armor was simply impenetrable, even to blunt weapons. Then the idea came to my head. While I was distracting the creature, dodging its blows and irritating it with counterattacks, I ordered Hamysbir to tie an anchor’s rope around giant’s leg. He did so without the foe noticing him. Then, at my command, he dropped the anchor into the sea. It submerged, dragging monster into the depth. The thing tried to hold onto ship, but the weight was too much even for it. Soon it vanished into the waves. I cut the rope, leaving the anchor to drown my enemy.

And so I slain the armored giant with the help of Hamysbir.”

“I heard that it was father who fought the creature while the commander was tying it to the anchor,” said Ymdaton without thinking too long. He was surprised, how loud his words sounded. A lot of warriors heard it and turned their heads. Some laughed, some examined him with curiosity in their eyes. A strong hit upside the head caught the boy unaware. He looked at Hamysbir.

“Why?” sobbed he, tears of pain rolling down his cheeks. The father, who was looking very fierce, grabbed his son by the hand and dragged him out of the house, to the street.

“Where did you hear that story?” asked he angrily.

“Your comrade, Bareksum told me this, when he was visiting our house. You never tell me of your battles, so I asked him,” mumbled the boy.

“Never talk about it again. These are lies. My commander fought the beast while I was only helping. The feast is over for you, young man” said the father in stern voice and turned his back to his son, heading back into the building.

Ymdaton looked at the house with strange trees for some time. Suddenly, one of the best evenings of his life turned into one of the worst. With a heavy heart he trudged back home.