Malcor's Story

by Eric K. Barnum

  Then, the crowd of villagers already there caught sight of Malcor and began cheering him. His family and friends, who had walked up with him, moved into the courtyard and its dark stone steps to watch. Calvin’s introduction was lost amidst the noise and shuffling and then Malcor was pushed onto the courtyard’s sand. Someone’s voice announced over the din “Malcor of R’Dar Tor’s foundry from the merchant House of Tor.”

  But Malcor’s thoughts remained with the armored giant. He could not stop staring at it. It dawned on him, “Of course,” Malcor muttered. Of course the armored giant… “is a red dragon and a Dread Lord” Calvin finished his thought for him. They suddenly felt very small, young, and insignificant. Calvin felt it as immense pressure to succeed and impress his father. Malcor felt the same smallness and pressure to impress, but something in his soul told him he would be okay. He drew confidence from that even though he could not think of any stories of any dread lords coming to a Klennan Coming of Age ceremony, ever.

  Chapter Two – The Ceremony

  The two regarded each other. Calvin stood an inch taller than Malcor in fine spider silk clothing and fencing boots. That alone made Calvin recognizable as a nobleman’s son. His finely oiled hair, his immaculate skin with not even a single scar – thanks to Temple donations as needed for healing, and his general demeanor all fit Calvin, son of Klenna’s mayor. A rapier, no doubt worth more than all of Klenna, hung from his belt.

  Though not quite as tall, Malcor had years of muscle and hardiness from working the forge. He also had his fair share of burn scars, luckily nothing very visible except on his scalp. The oiled leathers of his attire gave him a somewhat roguish appearance offset only by the lack of hair burned by the same years of forge work. The scar tissue on his scalp had faded but his hair never quite grew back. He had just a few tufts of hair that he kept shaved. Malcor’s satchel and hand-forged long sword hung by a leather belt that looked downright brutish compared to Calvin’s elegant attire. Along with the eight children, they turned to face the high priestess as she was introduced by the armored giant at her side. There would be a brief wait to allow any stragglers to arrive.

  The armored giant Malcor had seen with the red-haired priestess finally announced in a deep and booming bass, “Assembled peoples of the empire! Dar Shara, lord of the Temple of Glass and I, Dread Lord Armageddon, preside over this Ceremony in this, the Imperial shrine of Klenna! In attendance are other great lords and ladies of the empire. Let them now come forth.” Armageddon’s voice overwhelmed everyone present causing an immediate silence.

  Custom dictated now that the squires of any lord announce, in correct order of their might and glory in Morbatten. The first squire stepped forward and Malcor realized that today would be remembered for years in Klenna. Always a key moment, if multiple squires stepped forward, there could be a challenge, or at the very least a political faux pas. None did and then the presence of the first-forward squire caught Malcor’s attention. Though always a spectacle, anyone could tell in Tania who really had power. Gaudy displays of wealth attempt to compensate for lack of might. This first squire seemed to have both in equal measure. He clearly fell into the real power category. Tall, broad, and with features possessing a keen intelligence, the squire seemed to stand in a different level of humanity than the rest. Then Malcor felt it. This is no human. This is another Dread Lord. How many are there?, he wondered.

  “Assembled peoples of the empire! I am known as Blade, first son of Dread Emperor Alerius, here to present His Royal Majesty Dar Rojo, human king of the empire and Paladin Lord of Takhissis’ Knights! Let all bear witness to his glory. He is the first human to serve as king, and let all see...” The first human king after centuries of rule by the dragon emperor Alerius.

  Malcor doubted there could be a single person anywhere who had not heard stories and rumors about the King Rojo, or the dragon emperor. And the King and one of the emperor’s sons is here?! Their names and stories worked their way into everything most every day. It had been only ten years since Rojo ascended the human throne and the ripples of his reign had reached out and changed so much for everyone.

  At Rojo’s command, the Temple had revealed the truth: that the god emperor Alerius and other dragons had been shaping Tanian culture and its peoples for thousands of years. The implications had been staggering. It had seemed a joke at first: that the dragons would allow a human to rule. Yes, it had ended the deadly civil war in the temple between the priestesses and their male cleric counterparts, but the biggest change was actually in this ceremony. The unreal focus on identifying and finding paladins, rangers, warriors, priests, and mages or anyone with skills and talents contributing to war meant that prodigies and heroes and legendary children were being swept into the Temple earlier and faster than ever. King Rojo had driven that as he had driven the mortal, human, and humanoid citizens into gears of the empire. Talented at something? It became your career. Skilled at fighting? The war machine waited with its hot breath.

  The king is here! Word ran like wildfire in a breeze and except for that breeze no one dared say anything and then, as if a presence had touched them, all bowed fists on the ground as the king entered. Even Dar Shara stepped down from her throne and bowed. Malcor noted that only the Dread Lords did not. He quickly counted three other Dread Lords in addition to Armageddon and Blade. Each of the three Dread Lords stood by priestesses standing in the shadows behind Shara’s throne, noted only because they did not bow. Calvin and Malcor tried looking for the king without looking and could see no one and then, there it was. A footfall landed behind them as a dominating presence sucked the air from their lungs. The air heated around them yet grew dark at the same time as the king’s power, like a heavy weight, fell upon them.

  King Rojo, The Rojo, the stories about this man and here he stood – right there next to him. Malcor felt more than saw Rojo’s cloak brush him as he stepped between Malcor and Calvin. Without meaning too or even knowing why he wanted to touch it, Malcor’s finger caught just a touch of the hem. Calvin stared at the hand wide-eyed and then perhaps wanting to also touch the legend, reached out and just missed it. Made of grey spider silk and hemmed with golden threaded symbols, the cloak felt luxurious and somehow alive. Rojo passed beyond their reach and walked to Dar Shara. They kissed, exchanged words, and then Rojo helped the high priestess retake her place on the throne above him. Blade's words came out as a roar, “Behold and bear witness, the crown serves the Goddess and our Queen is here with the people of Klenna!”

  The other introductions proceeded quickly but Malcor could not take his eyes away from the high priestess and the king. While both appeared in their prime of life, they could not have made more a contrast. The sunlight fell on Shara’s red hair and lit it afire with red and orange. Her pale white skin seemed luminescent in the sunlight. The spider silk robes she wore draped her in such a way that said Priestess but screamed Woman. Her golden threaded belt and jewelry hugged her hips and breasts spotlighting her curves and emphasizing that scream of her as Desire. Like a jealous lover, her Dread Lord stood just behind her daring Malcor and others to continue looking. Malcor imagined Calvin’s father also looking at the priestess, probably calculating political gain. Malcor noted her staring at him staring at her and blushed. He forcibly turned his eyes back to the king.

  Standing in front of Dar Shara’s throne, King Rojo stood in the same sunlight but appeared wrapped in shadow somehow. His armor, his clothing, his demeanor, all of it came together to create a man ready for war. The golden thread hemming his cloak that Malcor touched, glinted in the sun but dimly as if also in shadow. Here stood a warrior shown to be king only by the crown on his head. The same sunbeams illuminating Shara’s beauty seemed unwilling to touch King Rojo. Malcor wondered why. He also wondered why no one ever mentioned that the king was shorter in real life than he sounded in the stories.

  Shara leaned forward and rested her hand on the King’s shoulder to whisper something to him. The light followed her hand and dimmed o
n his shoulder pauldron. He nodded to whatever she had said. She smiled and sat back into her throne. Rojo’s expression hardly changed and Malcor noticed that more often than not, the king appeared to be staring at the representation of the Goddess back by the shrine proper. Like Shara and most Tanians, he had pale skin but dark almost black hair. He had heard the king had blue eyes, but if anything they appeared gray, almost entirely so that Malcor wondered if his eyes had white in them at all. Unlike the other knights, the king carried no sword. At least he was not visibly armed but then, many of the knights could summon their weapons at will.

  At last, the introductions ended and Calvin’s father stood to offer an opening prayer. He looked nervous but his nervous voice quickly faded as he called out. “Mighty Dread Lords, we pray to your Mother, our Queen and Goddess…” When the prayer ended, and without a word, the king walked to the stand where the mayor was getting ready to introduce the Aging Ceremony. “We are honored to have such a grand audience,” and then he stopped when Rojo’s hand touched his shoulder. The consummate politician seemed flustered and only somewhat recovered enough to step aside and back for the king.

  “Our goddess Takhissis wishes to see her soldiers open the Ceremony. Paladins, all of you - now.” That command voice! Malcor felt blood boil his veins as if he had been called. “Veterans of the wars and priests, you may join as you will. We dedicate this to our five Dread Lords and the Queen’s Priestess.”

  Rojo clapped his hands together in a rhythm, a beat quickly taken up by the other knights and then the shrine’s bell-ringer added to the din, then the crowd followed. It created a strong drum-like rhythm. Rojo walked off the podium as paladins of all ranks moved into the courtyard to join him. Their walk synched to the beat and then a writhing, twisting, callisthenic dance evolved. Clapping was replaced with armored gauntlet smashing against the knight nearest. Kicks and spins rang against the warriors’ armor all around as they moved. The veteran knights executed the ritual flawlessly and around them the less practiced made errors here and there, but the errors were mostly in timing.

  Thousands of years ago, this had been an infantry kata, a memorized set of moves designed to engage multiple enemies. When set to actual music, it told of the empire’s alliance with dragons and the rule of the priestesses, the fall of enemies, and the rise of the paladins. Starting with only nine paladins, the dynamic changed as war veterans joined and then the clerics joined. Gradually, the tempo increased as did the volume of the warriors’ and crowds’ chant. The dance and song and the movement of wars waged to the tolling of the shrine’s bell.

  The dance evoked feelings in Malcor. He wanted to join the dance; am I allowed? He wanted to fight for his life and take the lives of the Queen’s enemies; when may I? His throat ached with a war cry choked back; why not scream? Dar Shara walked into the midst and with a prayerful wave of her hand, flames struck up from the ground and soared into the sky around each of the knights as she added the Queen’s glory to the dance. The king and his paladins erupted into columns of red fire that rose from the ground into the sky. No one burned though all felt the heat.

  Driven by the dance, the Dread Lords gave up control of their human forms, leaping into the sky as their carefully magicked shells collapsed in rapturous ecstasy, peeling back as dragon wings filled the sky. Malcor watched mouth agape at the size and glory and majesty of Dread Lord Armageddon in particular, who dwarfed the other dragons for sheer size and power density.

  The king’s flame column rose from the courtyard like a tornado and blew out from his movements like a shockwave across the crowd. It hit Malcor physically and with each wave, Malcor felt a fever growing. He looked to Calvin and the Klennans on the courtyard steps. They appeared joyous, singing and dancing in place, unaffected by the shockwaves that rolled through and over them. The king’s column of fire finally rose to the ceiling of clouds drifting above and like a stone splashing into still water, blew the clouds apart. It was glorious and powerful and made Malcor’s blood boil. The dragon silhouettes diving and swirling around and through the columns of fire transformed the Klennan shrine.

  Malcor felt that subtle shift in his perception. The dragons continued to fly, the warriors and dancers continued their dance, but Calvin and the “normal folk” seemed to quiet and blur. In that moment, something tore past Malcor’s face like a slap of fire and the normal folk fell into a dim blur as if they moved more slowly with streams of wind blowing trails of color off their movements. In wonder, Malcor looked at his own movements and fixated on his fingers wiggling, which seemed sharper in its color and focus. He imagined he could see his blood coursing through his arm. Something darkened the sunlight and Malcor looked up to see Dread Lord Armageddon dropping down from the columns of fire high above him. As the dragon fell, he shapeshifted into human form landing with a crashing blow that fragmented the courtyard around him in front of Malcor.

  Armageddon stood up tall and stared intently at Malcor. His true dragon form and his magical shell of a human body seemed overlapped somehow, both vibrant with energy and power. Dark reds and lightning black torrents of energy raged around them in the dragon's presence. It took Malcor's breath away.

  The dread lord leaned in close to Malcor’s face and sniffed. “You see the River?” Malcor’s expression conveyed only confusion. The giant grabbed Malcor’s face and turned his head pointing him towards the villagers. “You see they move out of synch and some not at all, but they blur? Drowning in the River. The trails of light off this one,” pointing to Calvin, “show the River murdering him with Time and Age. You see this with your own hand aging here and here. You are dying and do not even see it killing you. Time is killing you and you drown in its flow. We call this the River,” he said bringing Malcor’s hand before his eyes. The dragon let go of Malcor’s face and Malcor gasped when he fell several feet to the courtyard. He had not felt himself being lifted.

  “Behold the paladins, My Lady Shara, and your human King as I see him.” The Dread Lord’s voice boomed out the command and Malcor unconsciously stood erect and looked exactly in that order. "See them and then look back at the Innocents." Malcor noted the dread lord's use of the draconian term for "normal people", Innocents.

  Some of the knights, just like the villagers streamed trails of light around them. It streamed over some quickly, others more slowly. The two knights closest to the king, like Malcor and Armageddon, appeared infused with energy and magic and colors. As he looked at them, the dread lord hissed, "Those are paladins. They thrive in the love and worship of their Mother. Do not confuse them with knights."

  One of the paladin's colors reminded Malcor of a fiery sunset full of colorful reds and oranges. The other’s aura appeared more like a lightning storm amidst thunderous storm clouds. The dragon extended an armored finger to point and then said, “The colors are their life experience and devotion to the Goddess. You see their intensity through your own life experiences. I see two knights devoted and enraptured with their Goddess. Both have earned glory and honor beyond your current understanding. One however has paid sacrifices in sorrow and pain. No doubt you see him differently?” Malcor heard the question and nodded. “Now, see Dar Shara. She plays with the River.”

  And so she did. Malcor saw her uplift her hand as if floating upwards in slow motion and then turn it over as she voiced her flame strike prayer. The effect appeared to be a slow spell followed by a decisive and sudden flame strike happening as if in the blink of an eye. Her hand sliced down as fire erupted from the ground encircling one of the paladins. The sound of her prayer spell echoed and boomed as he focused in on hearing her voice, both softly feminine and all-powerful sounding in this place. Her body’s turning whipped her hair and silk dress around her creating a frozen barrier and then a cascade of movement quickly. Her beauty had been near overwhelming before. In this way of seeing her, Malcor could barely breathe. Desire tore at him, awe dazed him, and against it all he marveled at the many colors of her aura. Tornadoes of the dragon colors arced ou
t of her heart to lance up into the sky and then crash back down into her, through her, and throughout those nearby.

  She looked rapturous. Every so often, the color arcs would crackle along some invisible barrier and for a ghost of a moment, would outline fractions of a dragon surrounding her, as a wing here, a giant clawed arm there. Her breathing, like mist in cool winter air, exhaled tongues of flame and inhaled the trailing beams of light from the River pulling across the courtyard. Malcor asked, "The paladins are different than knights?"

  "Yes," Armageddon breathed back at him. "Paladins are driven by faith. They are also knights and you humans refer to them by that term too often. Consider your friend Calvin and his father." Malcor cast his eyes about looking for them and saw them again. As he focused on them, their images paused and became clearer in the River. Calvin's father appeared standing next to Calvin. Part of his aura burned intensely towards Calvin. That part of his aura contained the only color at all between the two of them.

  Suddenly, one of the priestesses attending the royals walked past Calvin. Malcor noticed how she drew the River after her. In that moment, Calvin's gray and pastel earth-colored aura burned brightly as she smiled his way. Malcor noticed the priestess' aura did not even flex. "The River…”

  “Allows immortals and magic users to see these things. As you learn more, you'll be able to focus on someone like that boy," he gestured towards Calvin and his hand sent ripples and currents of arc-lightning through the River, "and see their past, who they are right now. Time is a moment by moment thing for mortals. Who your friend was, who he is now, who will someday be – these things are always changing. Only the past is fixed. The present is momentary and fleeting. The future is mostly unknown except during those times when something so momentous it affects the gods occurs."