Chapter 3
Tristan visited the University briefly and found things radically changed, but somehow not very much different. The same air of otherworldliness endured though the lecture topics were much more relevant to everyday life. Geff enjoyed the opportunity to reaffirm his choice to join the Brethren. It was refreshing to know one’s life had purpose and meaning, whereas at the University it was not always clear why people did the things they did, especially to themselves. After finding the faculty and students as clueless to happenings in the world at large as ever, Tristan gave up trying to enlist help or garner information from such a source. They rode swiftly for the crumbling fortress on the edge of the sea. The night was wet and dark as they rode up to the gates. “Who goes?” came the familiar question.
“We seek Arora,” said Tristan.
“Professor Arora is not to be disturbed, especially by unannounced strangers,” said the man at the gate.
“You will let me in now,” said Tristan, “or she will not be happy when she finds you have barred my way.”
“Why should I listen to you?” asked the man.
“I have urgent business with her and I know she is desperate to see me as well,” said Tristan patiently. “
Why should she be anxious to see you?” asked the man, “and what right have you to disturb her rest on such a night?”
“She is my wife,” said Tristan quietly.
“I am sure she is,” laughed the man, “in your dreams.” The conversation had caught the attention of a man standing further inside the courtyard.
“What is all this noise?” asked the newcomer.
“Nothing sir,” said the other man, “just a pair of gate crashers who will not wait until morning to bother the Professor.”
The newcomer looked over the pair of men standing out in the rain and said, “you had better let them in now or the Professor will be very unhappy.”
“Yes sir,” said the guard, “but why?”
“She will not be happy to find out you have left her husband standing out in the rain,” said the other man. The gate opened and Tristan and Geff squeezed inside out of the rain.
The guard looked apologetically at the pair, “I beg your pardon sirs, but it was all in the name of security.”
“No harm done,” said Tristan, then he faced the man who had convinced the guard to let them in, “Raye! It is good to see you.”
“And you sir,” said the boy, “I see Geff is still alive though not free of your influence.” All three laughed.
“Please lead the way,” said Tristan. The student nodded and trotted off in the direction of Arora’s chambers.
Arora sat alone in her room quietly practicing a new song on her instrument when a knock came at the door. It must be important for her to be disturbed at such an hour. She opened the door and soon found herself set upon by a very wet and cold man. It took her a moment to realize this was no attack, but arms hungry from months of separation. She nearly wept with joy as she returned her husband’s zealous greeting. She recovered herself enough to ask her guests to come in. She greeted Geff warmly. Raye excused himself and returned to his duties. “I am sorry we cannot stay long,” said Tristan, “but at least I can see you for tonight and part of tomorrow. The Lady has me touring much of the Eastern world and I must make haste, but I had see you.”
He told her of their errand and she replied, “there are indeed dark and evil things lurking in the wild places of Syre. I am also aware of several villages and outlying lords that are thinking about revolting against the King; it also grows dangerous to travel for fear of bandits upon the road. It is truly a perilous time and I fear things shall swiftly grow worse. As for aide, we have many students learning the sword, but we can only send a small force, inexperienced at that. But we will do what we must, even if our army falls short of a dozen soldiers.” Tristan smiled at her forced mirth.
“Geff,” said Arora kindly, “will you go find Raye and ask him to find you quarters for the night?” The boy stood, bowed, and disappeared from the room. Arora and Tristan spent much of the night deep in talk and just enjoying what little time they had together. In the morning, they ate breakfast together and then Tristan had to be on the road once more. Arora cried as she said farewell to Tristan, but even this brief visit lightened her heart. They rode for Arca.
Upon their road, they occasionally saw shadows ghosting silently by in the darkness but nothing entered their camp. Tristan had no further encounters with bandits, though the sight of two well-armed men in raggedy clothing was not an enticing lure for would-be thieves seeking easier or richer prey. Without incident they arrived in Arca, the capital city of the country of the same name. Tristan hoped Bristol was still about the palace though the way things had been going of late he doubted the man was still a part of the Order. Instead of applying to the King, he asked immediately for Bristol. The guard sent a servant running for the man and he appeared soon after. Bristol smiled at the sight of Tristan, though worry and fatigue were plain upon his face. He nodded to the guard who let the pair pass.
“It is good to see you!” said Bristol, “it has been a difficult time to serve in such a place. Lyre has taken over my position with the Order. He is even worse than he ever used to be. Before he was simply a pompous fool, now he acts as if he is one step below the King. His obsequiousness has been replaced by viciousness. It is a fell sign that the Order would let such as him resume his former glory after such a dismal failure. I am glad I am no longer in their service.”
“It still cannot be easy,” said Tristan, “to have been tossed aside so easily and also to serve daily with such a man. He was bad enough when last I knew him. I cannot imagine him now.” They retreated to Bristol’s quarters and Tristan told of his mission.
Bristol said, “it seems ill news comes from everywhere in these dark days. The King is still lost in his vain pursuit of wisdom or its imposters. His generals are left to their own devices. I can introduce you to them, though you will still need the King’s permission to command his soldiers. I will do what I can. There are evil things abroad in the land, crime is increasing, and the odd village and a few lesser nobles are thinking about open revolt. It seems the same story you are hearing everywhere.” Tristan nodded glumly. Business done, they switched to more enjoyable topics until it was time for the evening meal. They made their way down to the banquet hall and found places in the back. Again, they were ignored for most of the meal. Tristan kept a close eye out for Lyre, but it seemed he was busy elsewhere. As they were leaving to return to Bristol’s quarters they very nearly ran into the man.
“You!” screamed the startled Lyre, “how dare you show your face here. You are a wanted man.” He smiled evilly, “and I can finally arrest you as you deserve.”
“Arrest me?” said Tristan, “by whose authority?”
“The Legion has a warrant out for your arrest; they want your head,” said Lyre joyfully.
“What have I done?” asked Tristan.
“There are a variety of charges, but most of them can be summed up with the word treason,” said Lyre enjoying every moment.
“I do not recognize the authority of the Legion,” said Tristan, “and while it was the Order, I served faithfully.”
“Who cares if you recognize their authority,” said Lyre, “they are an authority and they have deemed you a criminal worthy of death. I am sure the King will see it my way and allow me to send your head to my masters.”
“I have broken no law or oath,” said Tristan, “and the Lady of Astoria is the only authority I answer to unless I break Oath. Even then I must face justice under the laws of the land in which I committed said crime. You will not take me.” There was a rasping of metal on metal as Lyre drew his sword, but he soon found three blades to his one as all three Brethren bared their blades. Several guards rushed into the scene before things escalated to bloo
dshed.
“Put up your weapons,” said the Captain, “what is the meaning of this?”
“I was placing this man under arrest,” said Lyre sheathing his blade, “and he resisted.”
“He has no authority to arrest me,” said Tristan, “we were merely preparing to defend ourselves should he choose to push things.”
“The King will hear your case on the morrow,” said the Captain, “tonight I hope you enjoy your stay in the dungeon.” All four were disarmed and unceremoniously hauled off to the dungeon. Lyre was placed in a separate cell as he might have strangled Tristan had he been allowed access to him. No one slept well and all wondered how the King would rule on such a case.
Morning came, and after a dismal breakfast of dry bread and stale water they were hauled before the entire court unshaven and unwashed. The King sat upon his throne and the whole court looked on. That two of his advisors and a couple of strangers would behave in such a way provided some much needed excitement to the tedious business that usually was a day at court. The King was delighted to hear the case. First Lyre was allowed to speak, “Your Majesty, it is with great pleasure that I chanced upon this vile perpetrator and now have the chance to bring him to justice. However, he was willing to resist and as such stirred up the excellent royal guard which required the immediate incarceration of us all. The Legion has justly called for this man’s head and I beg your Majesty to grant said request in return for their undying gratitude. He is a vile traitor and need not trouble you further. Please allow me the privilege of arresting him and sending him to a swift execution.”
The King, bored by Lyre’s recitation called on Bristol to explain his side of things, “Sire, it has been my privilege to serve with this man both in the Order and the Brethren. Lyre has ever been at odds with him and tried once before to have him charged with treason only to fail miserably and be stripped of rank and banished to a training cadre. The Order has recently suffered a drastic shift in mission and name and now calls itself the Legion of the Serpent. I am no longer a part of such a vile group and rejoice in my freedom. The Legion is far from just and has no right to call for the arrest of a man so unassociated with them in their current incarnation. Tristan left the Order a well respected and honored man. It is only with the changing of the Order to the Legion that nefarious men now call for his arrest on charges as false as Lyre’s sincerity.”
The King was greatly amused by Bristol’s monologue and now called upon Tristan to answer for himself, “Your Highness, I do not know what the Legion has against me or the Brethren, but I do know Lyre has a personal grudge and is not objective in his judgments. If you so declare me an enemy of the state, spare these two. They were merely trying to protect me against this pompous fool.”
“That is all you wish to say?” asked the King in surprise.
“Yes, your Majesty,” said Tristan.
“Then here is my decision,” said the King, “if you wish to arrest this man Lyre, you must do so elsewhere. I find no cause for his detention or execution. As long as he is within the bounds of Arca you have no jurisdiction over him. If you wish to push the matter, challenge him to a duel or forever hold your peace.” Lyre flushed red at the king’s words, though whether in anger at the King not using his title or over Tristan’s escape or both, no one knew.
Lyre said, “let it be so witnessed that I hereby challenge Tristan to a duel to the death.” Tristan, not surprised by such a move hesitated. If he won, the Legion might use it as an excuse to declare war on the Brethren. Losing was most definitely not an option. He could decline, but that would not do his mission any good in the eyes of the King.
Tristan said, “let it be duly noted that I will accept this challenge only if Lyre agrees that it is between himself and I. This is not a clash between the Legion and the Brethren.”
“So noted,” said Lyre triumphantly, he could almost taste the sweetness of victory. The King nodded his assent and the men received back their weapons and the crowd formed a circle in which the combatants would be enclosed. If there was one thing they liked more than intrigue, it was bloodshed. Tristan sighed as he looked at the bloodthirsty crowd but took his place in the circle. An official was drawn from the crowd and the pair faced each other. Lyre smiled like a cat eyeing a cornered mouse; Tristan looked grim. The official called for their attention, went over the rules, and gave the signal to start. Lyre lunged in almost immediately, slashing like a madman. Tristan held him at bay. Frustration welled up in Lyre as he fought as hard as he could but could not get a single blow past Tristan’s defenses. Lyre kept up the onslaught, but soon grew weary; he was not in top fighting condition. Tristan was hardly breaking a sweat; Lyre looked ready to pass out. As Lyre slowed down, Tristan moved in for the kill. If the man was as skilled a swordsman as he thought he was no one could rival him, but he was far from his fond imaginings. Soon the man was on the floor and out of the fight. With a couple well-placed blows, Tristan had rendered him helpless but did not drive home the killing stroke. Lyre sat on the floor waiting for imminent death, but it never came. After the final blow, Tristan wiped his blade and returned it to its sheath.
Lyre stared in disbelief and then wailed, “you must finish! If you do not finish I declare you a coward and a disgrace.”
Tristan turned back to face him, “there is no cowardice or disgrace in sparing a life.”
“I deserve an honorable death!” screamed Lyre.
Tristan said, “then you must seek it elsewhere.” The man seemed to go mad with frustration. He picked up his discarded sword and rushed at Tristan’s turned back. Tristan turned but had no time to draw his blade. He saw his own death written in Lyre’s face, but before he could strike the fatal blow, Lyre’s mad rush was cut short. Lyre gasped in pain as he fell to the floor, clasping the blade thrust through his own chest.
In a raspy wail he cried, “it cannot end like this…” And he said no more. The wide-eyed Geff retrieved his blade and wiped the blood on the dead man’s cloak. He then sat down upon the floor and wept. Tristan was almost as wide-eyed as his apprentice; but gently raised him to his feet and escorted him out of the center of the crowd. The courtiers erupted in applause; seldom did they see such interesting antics. The three retreated to Bristol’s quarters.
“It is never easy to kill a man,” said Tristan with his arm about the boy‘s shoulder, “even when it is absolutely necessary.”
The boy looked up through reddened eyes, “was it necessary?”
“If you had not, it would be me lying dead instead of Lyre,” said Tristan quietly, “he forced your hand. It was of his own doing; you merely did your duty. It should never be easy, but you must never let that stop you from doing what you must.” They sat quietly for some time and allowed the boy the time he needed to recover from the shock and the terror of recent events. Eventually a servant came and summoned them to the King. They bowed formally upon entering his presence.
“What has brought you hither and spawned such strange events?” said the King.
“I come on behalf of the Lady of Astoria,” said Tristan, “she seeks knowledge and aid in the coming darkness.”
“Yes,” said the King, “all the world seems to be falling towards disaster. Knowledge you must seek from your colleagues and my generals. Aid I will send when the time comes for us to stand together or fail separately.” Tristan bowed. The audience was at an end. They made their farewell courtesies and left the King’s presence and went in search of his generals. His commanding officers had been greatly impressed by Tristan’s skills with a blade and were equally ready to follow their King’s orders should the need arise. They repeated much of what Bristol had said about the evils stirring in Arca. By late afternoon, Tristan and Geff had bid farewell to Bristol and were once again on the road.
The next leg of their journey would take them away from the coastal countries and into the three tiny nations th
at bordered western Arca and Syre. Then they would ride to Vespera and finally home. The three smaller countries within the Eastern Realms were rather odd in that they were not so much countries as they were conglomerations of independent villages. Each village had a duly elected representative and each representative had one vote. The representatives elected a leader for themselves who settled disputes, moderated debates, and voted only to break any ties. It was a strange system for the times, but it worked for the miniscule nations who chose to maintain it. As such, Tristan could not present himself to the King or absolute ruler of the three countries. He could however, apply to the elected Leader who could then call a meeting of the Representatives and there could be a vote. The first of the three countries was Capna. After some inquiry, they located the village where the Leader resided. As the two scruffy strangers rode into the small hamlet on their shaggy horses, much curiosity was aroused amongst the villagers. They did not see strangers often (even though their village housed the Leader, this may demonstrate the relative importance of the three tiny countries in the eyes of the world), and strangers as travel worn as these two must be up to no good or bring dire news. Tristan smiled as he heard whispers of thievery, seduction, and the end of the world. Who needed court intrigue when the village rumor mill could produce just as much mystery and excitement?
They dismounted outside the inn and asked after the Leader’s location. The innkeeper smiled and pointed towards a well-dressed man sitting alone at a table with an empty mug in front of him. The innkeeper said, “you will find His Grace holding court in here most evenings.” As it looked, appearing at court was not of major importance to the villagers. Tristan and Geff wandered over to the table and greeted the venerable Leader.
He motioned for them to take a seat across from him, “what news of the world my strange friends?”
“We were hoping you could help us out with that,” said Tristan, “we have been sent to a number of lands and Kings to inquire after tidings of evil in this dire hour and also to ask what aid they are willing to offer should war break forth upon the world.”
The man’s mouth fell open at such pronouncements of doom and said, “things are a bit riskier these days if one is wishing to travel abroad after dark. There are rumors of evil things in the deeps of the forest and shifty characters are traveling openly upon the road. We have increased the patrols that ride the major roads and enforce our laws; they have seen an increase in the number of ‘incidents’ they are called upon to investigate. Otherwise, we have no great tidings to report. What of the rest of the world?”
Tristan said, “it is much the same elsewhere. Rumors of monsters, bandits, and revolts abound. The very air seems to stir with evil. The world itself seems to sit on the verge of darkness, waiting for the final plunge. That is why the Lady of Astoria is sending men into all known lands to ask for tidings and what aid they are willing to send to the last, desperate fight.” The man gasped at mention of Astoria. Few of his people had ever left their own villages, let alone traveled to such a mysterious and almost mythical country. Some of the Brethren had occasionally passed through the lesser parts of the Eastern Realms, but were considered little more than traveling teachers or musicians by the locals and much less important than the price of pigs or the morrow’s weather. Although they welcomed such diversions when they could get them.
“What are you asking of us?” asked the Leader cautiously.
“Only that you consider what you are willing to do should the worst befall the world and word reach you that the situation is dire,” said Tristan, “your patrols may be little more than farmers armed with bows and axes, but in the last fight against utter darkness even a boy with a stick is better than nothing.”
“But what of our farms and villages?” asked the Leader, “we must not leave them undefended.”
Tristan smiled sadly, “should ‘the worst’ happen and we fail to drive it back it will little matter whether you defend your homes or not. The darkness will engulf you sooner or later if all else fails.”
The man nodded grimly, “I see your point. I shall call a meeting of the Representatives immediately and you may plead your case with them.” He motioned with his hand and a small boy came running up. He said to the lad, “get the message out that a Meeting is called for tomorrow at noon. Go!” The boy did his best at a serious salute then dashed off to pass the message round the village and send riders off to the other villages in question. The man smiled fondly after the retreating child. “My son,” he said simply. As night fell, the villagers crowded into the inn to see what the strangers had to say. They enjoyed news from abroad, even if it never seemed to affect their little corner of the world. They were especially eager as they had heard of the impending meeting, a thing which was rarely done save in emergencies and at the Annual Meeting. Tristan tried to keep talk away from nasty rumors and spent much of his time telling ancient tales or discussing local events. After an enjoyable evening of food and conversation, they slipped off to bed. The next morning found the Representatives assembling already upon the village green and the eager villagers already staking out favorable spots to watch. Precisely at noon, all of the Representatives were accounted for and Tristan repeated his oft said words to the gathered men. To a man they voted in favor of sending whatever aid they could scrape up should the need arise. Tristan thanked them in the name of the Lady and they set off once more for the next little country upon their road.
Alaria was the next of the tiny nations and had already assembled its Representatives by the time Tristan arrived (rumor traveled faster than unicorns it seemed). They heard Tristan’s case and did as Capna had. As the day’s proceedings were winding down, a rider arrived from the third of the three tiny nations giving Tristan his answer before ever he rode thither. It appeared all three countries would happily send what help they could in a crisis. Though Tristan felt the need for haste, he allowed the excited villagers to convince him to stay the night. Tomorrow he would ride for Vespera and then for home. A large number of people were assembling from not only surrounding villages but also from the other countries (it was not a great distance) and an impromptu festival was about to take place. A bonfire was lit upon the green, villagers put on their best clothes, copious amounts of food were brought forth by the ladies, and several of the men produced an impressive array of instruments and began to play. Geff was popular among the young ladies who thought him quite the dashing young hero (every woman loves a man with a sword); he danced with them eagerly, but when asked if he was interested in settling down he blushed profusely and sought Tristan’s protection.
Tristan said, “you may be a great warrior and scholar, but it will take far more than that to understand women. I will not protect you from them.” He laughed at the boy’s discomfiture, but he would have to learn someday how to deal with people, especially attractive young ladies. The girls giggled at the bashfulness of such a theoretically fearless man. The evening passed pleasantly and was a welcome diversion from the rigors of travel. But early the next morning they were once again on the road.
Vespera was a small country West of the Eastern realms. Tristan was quite eager to see Conrad again; his friend was the Lady’s envoy to the Queen of Vespera. The weather had turned warm and the first buds and early plants were starting to break out of winter’s grasp. Even a brave bird was heard occasionally piping in some distant thicket. It was a pleasant time to travel, except when the spring rains came in earnest. In the midst of such a storm the weary travelers reached the gates of Lorna, the capital city of Vespera. Tristan applied directly to Conrad, though he knew the Queen personally, there was some awkwardness between them. Conrad met them at the gates smiling, “welcome back, I hope you have better tidings than I have to tell.” They handed their mounts to the waiting grooms and followed Conrad into the castle. He told them the same things they had heard everywhere else. Conrad was not surprised to hear
of Tristan’s tidings or the reason for his visit. “I am sure the Queen will give the Lady her full support; though this would be unnecessary had you become King of Vespera,” laughed Conrad.
Tristan gave him a mortified look and Geff looked very interested in the story. “I will tell you later,” sighed Tristan. They went directly to the Queen as Conrad thought it appropriate, though Tristan wished he could sink through the stone floor. They bowed themselves into the Queen’s presence and she returned their greeting with a regal nod.
“Come to beg for the Kingship?” asked the Queen lightly. Now it was Tristan’s turn to blush and Geff looked ready to explode anticipating the story. Conrad grinned like an idiot.
Conrad cleared his throat and said, “Majesty, my mortified colleague has come on business from the Lady.”
Tristan gave Conrad a significant look and said to the Queen, “Majesty it is always a pleasure to see you, but I am still unable to accept such an offer and ever shall be.” He bowed respectfully and then proceeded to outline his mission.
The Queen nodded gravely, “I suspected such when your presence became known to me. Tell the Lady she shall have our full aid should it be required.” Tristan bowed in thanks. She then dismissed them and attended to other business.
Walking back to Conrad’s quarters, Tristan finally put Geff out of his misery and told him the full tale which turned out not to be as amusing as he had hoped. They spent the balance of the night with Conrad discussing the incessant evil that seemed everywhere to be lurking just beyond sight. After dinner they took a stroll in the castle gardens.
Tristan was somehow not surprised to happen upon the Legion’s duly appointed representative. He sneered as he approached the small group, “Conrad, I see you have acquired a procession. How much are you paying them? By their clothes I would say not enough.” He laughed at his own insipid joke.
Conrad patiently replied, “they are simply friends who have come on business to the Queen. It need not concern you.”
“All things within the bounds of Vespera concern me,” said the man, “because they concern the Legion. These men look like troublemakers, much like yourself. The day is coming when you will not openly display your filthy allegiance. Mark my words.”
“So noted,” sighed Conrad, “will that make you go away?”
The man smiled mirthlessly, “I am ever present wherever treachery and evil hide.”
“That would explain your membership in the Legion,” smiled Conrad. The man reached for his sword but thought better of it when he saw that it would be three against one. “You are lucky tonight,” said the man turning to go, “but in the future you may not be.”
“I do not believe in luck,” said Conrad to the retreating figure who made no answer. Conrad shivered, “they were bad enough when they were the Order. Now that they are the Legion I feel like bathing after simply passing them in the hall. Whatever happened to Lyre?”
Tristan smiled grimly, “he received his rank back after the changes within the Order and was serving as the Legion’s envoy to Arca. He was recently bested in a duel.”
“I cannot say that I am too sorry,” said Conrad, “though I do wish he had come to a change of heart during his exile into ignominy.” They awoke early the next morning and headed directly for Astoria. The journey was uneventful and the Lady was eager to hear their news. As her agents returned form every corner of the world, the news was much the same as Tristan and Geff had discovered. While every country was willing to send aid if absolutely necessary, each had so much to do just managing the little flare-ups and increasing chaos within their own lands that nothing but ultimate disaster would draw them from the confines of their own borders. The thought of the oldest and most terrible of the evil dragons with a grudge against humankind was not a joyful thought, but that was an inevitability they must face when it came.
Excerpt from Book II of ‘In Shadow,’ series: To Shadow Bound:
The wagon lurched into motion, leaving a grim and horrified crowd in its wake. Nothing like it had ever happened before in the history of Astoria and all hoped it would never happen again. Kent watched the vehicle vanish into the city, bearing with it all sense of right and good to be buried in some unmarked grave, never to be remembered more, or so it felt, for how could the world go on after such inexplicable evil in the very heart of Astoria? He had dedicated his life to order, honor, justice, and peace, yet two men he had once esteemed as the epitome of those very precepts now lay dead: one murdered and the other executed for the crime. With a heavy heart he withdrew into the heart of the keep, praying desperately for some answer, to make some sense of the situation, but he fell asleep with no answers and no consolation to his grieving heart.
His dreams were dark and terrible, his deepest fears and griefs come to life. He walked in a misty world of darkness with fear at his side, an unwelcome companion upon a road he did not wish to take. Something howled in the darkness and answers came from every direction, grim eyes like embers glowed malevolently out of the night dark mist. Kent shivered and reached for his sword, the cold familiar weight little comfort in his hand, for it was little defense against such foes and none at all against the Voices.
One hissed, “where is justice now?”
Another mocked, “you dedicated your life to this cause, is this what you wanted?”
“Where is your Master on this tragic day?” jeered yet another.
Laughed a fourth, “is this all there is?”
Kent dropped his sword and put his hands over his ears, trying to block out the taunting scorn in those hideous Voices, but they still echoed in his mind, driving him to his knees, tears of horror and dread in his eyes, praying that they could not possibly be right, but there came no answer, only the Voices. They mocked and jeered at him, laughed in contempt at all he was and had ever done or hoped to do, slowly drawing closer, their eyes like furious stars in the shrouding mist. He had no hope of survival, he knew that, they would taunt him, mock him, try and break him, and then they would devour him utterly, unless he despaired of all he had ever believed and joined ranks with them. He was on his face, weeping like a forsaken child alone in the night, their taunts and mockery ringing true: where was the Master now? Where was hope amid despair, life in the midst of death, light in the darkness? It had been promised but it had not come; it would not come, laughed the fiends.
Suddenly the Voices began to whisper in agitation, a tremor ran through them like wind in the grass; their scorn was suddenly replaced by terror and they fled, not far, but Kent could no longer smell their fetid breath, like rotten carrion, cold upon his face. He dared to look up, and for a moment a far different terror seized his heart, for another apparition stood before him, this one invoking dread of another kind. Which fate was worse he could not then determine: to be set upon by the fiends and torn asunder or to forever wander the world, a ghost without rest or home. For that is what stood before him, a ghost, in all its haunting splendor. He saw a man, a man he once knew, a man he saw murdered that very day, but then again, he was not the man he had always known, for he glowed slightly with a light not of this world, and it was this that had caused the unease amongst the Voices and driven them for a moment from the immediate vicinity.
“Can you stand?” came the familiar voice, but Kent merely buried his face again in the muddy turf. The voice came again, more insistent but also gently, as a mother caught in a tender moment with her little one, “you must stand or the fiends will soon be upon you.”
“He is ours!” wailed a Voice in the night.
Came another, “you cannot steal him thus!”
With a shiver of dread, Kent flew to his feet, recovering his sword as he did so, setting himself in a defensive stance with the ghost before him, but glancing nervously off into the night whither the Voices had fled. Said he in terror, “you are dead Baye.”
Baye smiled easily at him, “perhaps.”
T
he sheer incongruity of that statement for a moment drove the fear from Kent’s mind as he frowned in consternation, “what does that mean? Either you are or you aren’t, you can’t have it both ways!”
Baye grinned in amusement, “well then I am not dead, as you can obviously see.”
Kent stared, “I watched you die!”
“Yes,” said Baye, a slight smile on his face, “but it was not the first time nor will it be the last.”
Kent shook his head in confusion, “how can you be so relaxed about death in general and the scandalous manner of your own in particular?”
Baye grew grave, “is that what is bothering you?”
“Bothering me!” Kent keened, “it has almost been my undoing! Do you know how the Voices have taunted and how my own uneasy heart has quailed in horror that they might be right? Everything I once believed, all that I stood for, has come to naught! To see two men I once respected meet such an end?”
Baye shook his head sadly, “I am sorry it has vexed you so, but I suppose that is part of the reason I am here.” He glanced into the darkness significantly, “besides for the obvious problem of your fiendish companions of course.” A mischievous look entered his eyes as his hand glowed so intensely that Kent was forced to look away or go blind, continued Baye as if nothing of interest were happening, “we’ll let the perpetrator of your disquiet speak for himself.”
There came a brilliant flash and when Kent could again see, Jace stood there looking rather perplexed. He flashed the smugly grinning Baye a look of surprise, quickly assessed the situation, and then turned back to Baye with an impish grin, “what are we doing out here in the dark? I thought you were trying to be more sensible on occasion.”
Baye grinned all the more, “Kent here is vastly troubled by the happenings of the day so I thought it appropriate if you explain matters to his satisfaction, and this is not one of those occasions.”
Jace gave him an annoyed frown, but turned troubled eyes upon the astonished Kent, “I am sorry matters have so unsettled you, but things are certainly not as they seem.”
Kent gaped, “that is an understatement! You broke Oath! You murdered your friend and mentor! You were justly executed for your crimes, yet you stand here bantering as if nothing of consequence has happened! I nearly lost faith because of you.”
Jace stared off into the darkness, “yes, they can have that effect on people, especially one who is afraid or uneasy in his heart. You did well to resist them.” He looked soberly at Kent, “has anything ever been ‘normal’ in your interactions with me?”
Kent smiled in spite of himself, “I cannot say yes to that and you know it. From the moment of our first meeting, uncanniness has wrapped itself about you like a cloak!”
Jace nodded, “precisely, so it should not unsettle you much more to see the things you have seen this day.” He turned amused eyes upon Baye, “Adan once saw this villain run me through the heart with his sword and then stand over my fallen form in gloating triumph, the very first day I was in his keeping in fact.”
Baye said patiently, “it was not in gloating triumph, I was just happy you had finally mastered the skill I was trying to teach you; I thought you would never learn and we might be thus engaged until the end of time!”
Jace grinned impishly but sobered as he faced Kent, “as you can see, there is far more to the matter than you can as of yet ascertain, but know that I committed no true evil or rendered any permanent harm, but rather we played out this little drama at the Master’s behest.” He said quietly, “He said that my former self must die, and die it did, in flaming ignobility in fact and Baye was also of an age that he should no longer be walking the mortal earth as himself any longer.”
Kent shook his head, “I understand none of this.”
Baye grinned, “you are not supposed to, unless you want to be a part of our perplexing little conspiracy?”
Kent said with wide eyes, “I have no wish whatsoever!” He smiled apologetically at Jace, “whatever it is that you have embroiled yourself in, I have no wish to partake. I cherish order, predictability, and routine, not the chaos and disorder that seem to surround you and yours.” He eyed Baye soberly, “you have my word that what I have seen shall never be broached to another.” He smiled slightly he relief, “but at least you have managed to allay my worst fears and misgivings in regards to today’s events; the Master is fully in control of the situation and therein I shall be content.” He glanced nervously off into the darkness, “what of them?”
Jace drew his sword and said grimly, “leave them to me, but if you wish no part in this, I suggest you run as fast and as far as you can in the opposite direction, throw yourself into the deepest ditch you can find and cover your eyes.”
Kent looked questioningly at Baye, who said, “this is no dream lad, the unmaking of these fiends may well loose powers no mortal flesh can withstand; you had best do as he says lest you find yourself unmade.”
Kent mouthed the word ‘unmade,’ in astonishment, but bowed deeply to them both and then fled with all haste. Baye gave Jace, who now wore Kent’s likeness, a final salute before following after the fugitive to see that he got away safely; Jace dashed into the darkness, whence the Voices had fled. They were upon him immediately, shadowy wolves with glowing eyes that stank of death and the grave. They mocked and taunted, hissed and tempted, thirsting for his blood, willing or unwilling. He said nothing but let them approach, daring them to do their worst. Sensing they could extract no more terror or despair from this particular soul and knowing it would not willingly yield itself to them, they leapt upon it as one, only too late learning their fatal error, for this was not the soul they were sent to destroy, but rather it had been sent to unmake them. As their teeth sank into the man’s vulnerable flesh, an awful light was loosed, obliterating them all.
Kent ran as fast and as far as he could, running blindly in the dark, before stumbling into a gully where he collapsed in exhaustion. A moment later an awful light washed over the land, like a wave crashing upon the shore, and suddenly he knew it was over. Baye stood at the top of the gully, and seeing Kent safe, vanished into the luminous tsunami. Kent lay in the ditch, breathing hard but a relieved smile on his face. As the wan light of dawn crept into the wash where he had sheltered, Kent at last crept from his refuge and began the long walk back to Astoria, grateful for the chance to think upon all that had happened of late, but happily at peace.
Baye and Jace stood alone in the clearing once more, said Jace, “why are we having such trouble of late recruiting someone into the Shadow?”
Baye shook his head, “you were the first initiate in two hundred years, Adan and Hawk joined us soon thereafter, which is unheard of in this profession. Do not be surprised if it takes some little time to find someone else, for not all are as suited to this peculiar service as you and your companions.”
Jace nodded thoughtfully, gave his friend a hearty smile, and then each vanished about whatever errands this minor adventure had interrupted. But the dell was not yet to be left to itself, for a great raven lingered in a dead oak, a shadow of evil muting the sunlight in that particular corner of creation. He challenged the open air, “it is not fair! You have so gifted your particular pets that I have no chance in opposing them! Neither can their faithfulness be shaken, for you have blessed them too abundantly! Let us see what happens when they are bereft of your favor and left to my mercies!”
A light too bright to look upon gleamed on the far side of the glade, resolving itself into a pert magpie, which was not fazed in the least by the presence of the vile raven, said He in disgust, “do as you wish, Fiend, but my servants shall find themselves blessed all the more for your meddling!” He vanished in another flash of brilliant light, but it was a softer gleam that attracted the raven’s keen eye, for there in the grass something bright and metallic glinted in the sun. The stygian bird fluttered down from his perch and cocked his head in eager study of a rather plain looking dag
ger; he took it up in his claws with a raucous cry of exultation and vanished into the shadows of the wood.
Legends of the Brethren: Volume II Sample Chapters:
The Sampler Platter: A Little Bit of Everything Page 126
