Dragonsphere (The Fallen King Chronicles Book 1)

by Richard Fierce

  The statue was probably decades old, but the lacquer that covered the statue gave the reddish-brown color a shiny complexion and made it appear new. Due to the fact that the metal turned green from oxidation, the monks had to import the protective lacquer from one of the islands on the coast and arrange periodical maintenance.

  He pulled the hood of his robes over his head. “I always know where to find you,” Calderon’s familiar voice echoed in the chamber. Velkyn turned to face his friend. “That’s because you know me.” Calderon was almost the same height as himself, though slightly shorter. His head was shaved as was the custom for all of the monks in the monastery. Unlike himself, his friend had deep blue eyes whereas his were green. He was also the only one who knew about Calderon’s disorder.

  “Are you ready for the ceremony?” Velkyn smiled as he asked the question. He already knew the answer. Calderon was nervous. He knew his friend well, but he also could sense it in his spirit.

  “My soul is ready, but my mind betrays me. I want this so badly,” he raised his hand and clenched it into a fist with the last words. Calderon used his hands often when he talked. “I am afraid, though.” Velkyn nodded in understanding. “I know. I have my own reservations about what lies ahead, but I trust that if I am not chosen, there is another path for me.”

  “My biggest concern is having my disorder discovered. Perhaps I am not meant to be the Musician. I do not feel right hiding the truth.” Velkyn put his hand on Calderon’s shoulder. “We all have secrets that we must bear. If you confess your weakness, you will never be the Musician. And they may even kick you out of the order. I believe you are making the right decision. Besides, you know my secret. I would surely be excommunicated for mine. I do not feel guilty. Neither should you.”

  Calderon’s downcast expression brightened. “I suppose you are right.”

  “Have faith,” Velkyn said empathetically. The two sat in silence for a moment before Calderon spoke. “I have never understood that phrase.”

  Velkyn’s mind was wrapped up with his own thoughts. He looked at his friend confusedly. “What?”

  “That phrase,” Calderon repeated, waving his hands about as he talked. “Have faith. Faith is a Divine, so how do we ‘have faith’? I’ve never understood it.”

  Velkyn contemplated the question. “That is the beauty and glory of her love. She gives of herself to us, filling us with her spirit so that we may not only believe she exists, but that we may be empowered to obey her commands. That is how we have faith.” He smiled at Calderon’s look of amazement.

  “You are wise beyond your years, my friend. Perhaps one day you might be the Abbot.”

  Velkyn grimaced. “With all my heart I hope that not to be the case.”

  • • •

  Velkyn was up long before he needed to be. He was too excited to sleep anyway, spending most of the night tossing and turning. Today was the ceremony that would decide his fate. He would be asked grueling theological questions about the sphere, as well as about its history. Then his strength would be tested in a battle with a master of hand to hand combat. Each candidate would be tested separately by different masters. Then the masters would convene and decide amongst themselves who would be the next Guardian.

  The positions of Guardian and Musician were very similar with the exception that one played music to keep the enchantment on the sphere active. The Guardian’s role was to guard the door to the sphere, literally, their entire life.

  The Guardian would only get three hours of sleep each day when the Musician came to play their music. The Guardian’s position was essentially useless, as the only enemy of Talvaard was Oakvalor. The two nations were at war, but the Oaks also served the Divines and the church kept itself separated from the political agendas of their royal counterparts.

  The Musician was the more important of the two positions. It was the Musician who played the music that kept the freezing enchantment on the sphere. All magic expired over time without any influence. Demetrius himself had given them the musical notes needed to keep the sphere’s magic from degrading.

  Velkyn left his room and headed to the chamber where he had prayed the previous day. The sun had not yet risen, so he did not expect anyone to be using the room. Even though he walked softly down the stone hallways, the echo of his footsteps seemed loud in the silence.

  He entered the chamber and stood before the statue of his favored Divine. He wondered if the statue was an accurate depiction of the deity. How the sculptor knew what the deity looked like was beyond him.

  What if all he was praying to was a giant piece of elaborate metal?

  One of the doubts that always seemed to dwell in the back of his mind had escaped his mental barrier. He drove the thought away and sighed in frustration. How could he be so wise and have so much knowledge, yet have so many doubts about his own faith? He knelt down before the dais and bowed his head in prayer.

  Virtue … I have sought your favor already, but I come before you again to pray for my friend. I know he is the best suited to be the Musician … he has worked so hard to get to this point. If it is Your will, I pray that you would give him your favor as well.

  Velkyn’s mind began to wander. He thought of Nydel, his secret. Monks were forbidden to have relations, but he loved her. How could they justifiably ask him, or anyone else for that matter, to bury their desires and emotions? He refused to. She had been his closest friend before coming to the monastery on his eighth birthday.

  He smiled at the thought of how she had snuck in to see him over the years, sometimes desecrating this very room with their romantic episodes. He didn’t know how or when, but he would marry her one day. It may have been contradictory to be praying to the saint of Virtue considering his secret sin, but he didn’t care.

  His entire future rested on becoming the Guardian, and he would pray to whoever he needed to for success.

  • • •

  Velkyn had been drilled for the last hour on every deep subject based on the sphere. “Then Demetrius brought the sphere to the Brotherhood to keep it safe. Though our nations were at war then as they are now, they had banded together for the good of the world. The king of Oakvalor disagreed with King Garun’s decision to keep the sphere here, but he ordered the bones of the beast to be brought to Oakvalor.

  “Demetrius lived the rest of his life behind these very walls. The sphere is said to hold the soul of the fire dragon that brought massive destruction on both our kingdom, and Oakvalor’s. Our order vowed to keep it protected and safe after the death of Demetrius.”

  “What if it doesn’t contain anything at all?” the master inquired.

  “That’s a difficult but excellent question. The only way to know the answer is to stop playing the music that keeps the enchantment on the sphere. The better question would be, is it worth the risk to find the answer to that question? I do not believe it is.”

  “What if you spend your entire existence keeping it safe, only to find out that you wasted your life?”

  “That is where faith comes in. I believe it though I have no proof. My faith drives my actions. If in the end there is nothing to what we do, did we really waste our lives doing what we thought to be just? I do not think so.”

  Velkyn was having trouble reading the master’s faces. Was he answering the questions correctly? He could only hope.

  “You showed a proficient level of training in your defensive skills. What if a member of the Brotherhood, meaning someone other than the Musician, sought to enter the chamber of the spherewhat would you do?”

  “I would strike them down. Everyone in the Brotherhood knows the rules, and any fellow monk who breaks them deserves what comes to them.”

  “Please remove yourself from the chamber while we await the other masters.” Velkyn turned and left the room, feeling unsure of how he did. Had he been too forceful in his answers? Was his hand-to-hand skill up to standard? Despite what he could glean from the masters, all of these and many more doubts assailed him as
he waited outside the chamber. His thoughts turned to Calderon and he wondered how his friend was faring in his tests.

  “Let your will be done,” he whispered quietly, to no Divine in particular.

  • • •

  Calderon stood waiting outside the chamber he would be tested in. He could hear music playing through the wooden door, though it was muffled. His final and most challenging test would be to play his music for the current Musician. Calderon had only seen the man in passing a few times. Both the Guardian and the Musician led lives of solitude, kept away from the general population of the monastery.

  A full hour of perfect notes without a single mistake was required to pass the test. He had been playing his flute more and more each day in preparation, but he had yet to make it more than thirty minutes without having to stop. All he could do was hope for the best. The music coming through the door stopped abruptly. Calderon leaned against the door and put his ear to the polished wood, hoping to hear what was happening. He could hear voices, but nothing audible.

  He quickly backed away from the door when he realized someone was opening it. He turned his gaze up at the ceiling and pretended to be paying grave attention to the ceiling. One of the candidates walked out of the chamber, his face flushed red with embarrassment telling Calderon all he needed to know.

  “Calderon,” an elderly voice called out from the doorway, “it’s time.”

  Calderon’s heart began to race. His hands were sweaty, too. As he started walking towards the door, he dropped his flute. It clanged to the floor loudly, the sound echoing down the hallway. “F-forgive me,” he stuttered, kneeling down to pick it up. He felt a weight on his shoulder and looked up. The Musician’s hand was on him.

  “Don’t be nervous,” the old man encouraged, “just breath.”

  Calderon nodded silently and stood up. If he was meant to be the Musician, everything would work out. All he could do was offer his best. As he entered the chamber, he noticed a single chair. The room was devoid of any other furniture. The only source of light was from a small window in the stone wall behind the chair.

  The old man sat down in the chair and motioned Calderon to stand in front of him. “It is very important that you can endure physical strain. You will stand there while you play. Perhaps when you are my age, you will have the privilege of a chair.”

  Calderon wasn’t sure in the dim light, but he thought he saw the old man smile. He breathed in deep, placed the flute to his lips, and began to play. He knew the song well, he had memorized it when he was young. He distinctly remembered when he knew he wanted to be the Musician. Everything now depended on this moment. He couldn’t see anything with the light shining directly in his face. He closed his eyes to focus on the music.

  The next thing he knew, the old man was standing in front of him. Had he fallen asleep? His felt his stomach lurch within him.

  “You did well, Calderon.” The old man smiled, then motioned to the door. Calderon followed the Musician’s direction and left the chamber. His thoughts tumbled around in his mind as he made his way to his personal quarters. He was confused. What happened? He couldn’t recollect anything.

  • • •

  Velkyn and Calderon had been summoned to the Abbot’s chambers as the sun was setting. Both monks knew that because the smell of food was beginning to waft through the air. The monastery served two meals a day, always at sunrise and sunset. They both stood staring, entranced by the decorations that covered the walls. Tapestries, paintings, and other items practically hid every wall behind a multi-colored landscape of artistic beauty.

  The desk, though made of wood, was plated in gold and silver. Red stones, possibly rubies, cast a reddish hue across the room in the candlelight. They were so awed by the wealth that surrounded them that they did not hear the Abbot ask them to sit down.

  “You may be seated,” the Abbot repeated after clearing his throat. Once they were seated, the Abbot stared intently at them from across his desk.

  “These artifacts are beautiful,” Calderon said quietly, feeling like he was in a holy place. The atmosphere of the room was hushed and serene. Speaking almost seemed sinful.

  “Thank you. Most of these items the church has acquired through donations. The wealthy people of the city send them to us, not realizing we have no use for such things. Turning down their gifts would not be respectful, so we keep them here. I have called you both here for other business. The masters have made their decisions. While I do not completely agree with their ruling, it is not my place to challenge them. Tradition separates the duties of guarding the sphere from my duties as leader of the faith. With that being said, I must inform you both that only one of you have been chosen.”

  Velkyn shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Calderon didn’t move.

  “Velkyn, you have been chosen as the new Guardian. The previous Guardian, master Groves, passed away just this evening.” Velkyn’s face showed a mixture of joy and then confusion and finally, sorrow. “How …?”

  “Age has taken its toll on his body. The Musician will not be far behind him. They do not live long after the choices are made, due in part to the fact that we do not choose candidates until we know the current protectors of the sphere are close to death. He died doing what he committed his life to; guarding the sphere. It was an honor to have known him.” The Abbot paused before turning his gaze to Calderon.

  “There was some debate about you,” he said. “The Musician believes you are the right choice, but some of the masters who oversaw your other tests disagree. The majority voted to go with Sevrin. Were it in my control, I would honor the Musician’s desire. But in this matter, the masters have majority power. I am sorry. You are dismissed.”

  The tranquility shattered like a mirror being tossed to the ground. Calderon sat in disbelief. Velkyn nudged him with his elbow and motioned with his head toward the door. Calderon stood up dazedly, and slowly made his way out into the hallway. Velkyn sighed softly. This was not part of the plan.

  “I feel for him more than he knows,” the Abbot said. “As for you, however, you must report immediately to your post. Under less saddening circumstances, you would work with the master until he left this world. I assume you know your duties?”

  “Yes, I know them,” Velkyn answered solemnly.

  “You are also dismissed.”

  “Faith is the mother of Virtues. Faith is the fire which consumes sacrifices. Faith is the water which nurtures piety. If you have not faith,

  all your graces must die.”

  - from the Book of Faith

  CHAPTER SIX

  Calderon paused outside the door to his room. How could they have chosen Sevrin over him? By all accounts, he had passed the other tests just fine. Maybe he had fallen asleep when he played his music? That wouldn’t explain why the Musician wanted to choose him though. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He didn’t want to cry, but he couldn’t help it.

  He had worked for years to get here, but this was not the way he expected things to go. Perhaps he truly was not meant to be the Musician. He entered his room and hit his knees. He cried, and he prayed. And then he prayed some more. And cried some more. His tears were selfish, he knew. If the Divines had willed Sevrin to be the Musician, then he would have to accept that. But he didn’t want to.

  It was easier to be selfish. He should not allow himself to wallow in self pity. He was stronger than that. He sat there on his knees, the hot tears streaming down his face. He was unaware of the passage of time. No light shone through his window. He didn’t bother lighting a candle. He slumped down onto the cold stone floor and just laid there and stared into the darkness of his room.

  When he woke up, small shafts of light were shining through his window. He was still lying on his stomach and his neck was a little sore from facing the same direction all night. A knock on his door startled him. “Yes?” he called out, not sure why anyone was knocking in the first place. It wasn’t time for the morning prayers.

 
“Calderon,” the Abbot’s familiar voice rang, “I need to speak with you.”

  Calderon pushed himself off the floor with a grunt. He didn’t bother trying to smooth his disheveled look. He opened the door and was greeted by the Abbot, who had a disturbing look on his face. “Due to unforeseen circumstances, you are now the new Musician. You will report to master Donovan this evening for instruction.”

  “Master who?” he questioned, only half awake.

  “The former Musician. His name is master Donovan. And don’t forget your flute.” The Abbot turned and left, his departure as quick as his arrival.

  “What just happened?” Calderon whispered to himself. Unforeseen circumstances? What did that mean? And why did he have a dreaded feeling about being the new Musician? He should have been overjoyed.

  He wasn’t.

  • • •

  Calderon made his way quickly to Velkyn’s room. He knocked several times, but his friend did not answer. Could he be guarding the sphere already? He wasn’t sure, but decided to go by the sphere chamber to see.

  As he walked down the hallway that led to the room that housed the sphere, he saw Velkyn standing outside the door. “Velkyn!” he shouted. “I’ve got to tell you something!” As he approached his friend, Velkyn began to run toward him. “It’s the strangest thing” he began to say, but then Velkyn slammed into him, knocking him to the ground.

  Velkyn’s fists were a blur of raw fury, striking him in his jaw, neck, and chest. It was all he could do to try and block his face. The intensity with which Velkyn struck left no doubt in his mind that he was indeed the right choice for Guardian. “I’m the new Musician,” he screeched.

  As quickly as Velkyn attacked, he stopped. “Oh, thank Virtue,” Velkyn gasped. “Why didn’t you say so? I could have killed you!” Calderon could feel blood on his face, but he didn’t know where it was from.