Ora nodded, “A truthsay is not required. We have a witness. We also know the reputation and heroic character of Malcor’s attackers, both now fallen. How else but by the Queen’s decree would a youth such as this be able to defeat them? I will not truthsay. The truth is that you're alive and they are not.” She looked at the Tor representatives and sniffed, “But maybe House Tor plans on castrating itself on Malcor's blade and the Queen’s will in this regard. You may find it cheaper and more respectful of your House’s lives to end this with honor.”
They nodded. “We will think on it.”
With some urging from Ora, Malcor began describing how the dragons arced through the fire columns during the dance. When she seemed to have exhausted her questions, he asked her about herself. “How did you come to serve with Sai R’Dar?”
“The Golem Smith, I was very young. He is a master craftsman and mage. I don’t know how long he has served the empire, but his estate contains temple writings suggesting pre-Imperic Morbatten. He is a wonderful lord though he lacks devotion to the Queen, his loyalty to her son – the emperor Alerius – is without end. My family used to be a great house, but it was crushed out during the Kell Conflict. My mother had hoped to not choose sides and his view of that well, here I am.”
“So, he…”
“No, no. I was barely walking when the Conflict happened. His faction took me in trust after my mother swore her allegiance to Dar Kell. He took many daughters of the great houses to bring up in the new teachings.” She laughed. “My mother probably thought we were all heretics, but she has come around. My house though never recovered. I was given to Sai by the Temple in my own Aging as payment for work he provided the Temple. Sai has been, interesting, to serve.” She laughed again suddenly self-conscious. “You were an armorer correct?”
Calvin, not used to gorgeous young women ignoring him, butted in. “Malcor was a blacksmith’s apprentice, but in Klenna, he is a genius. He could do things with metal that the armory’s best either struggled with or took many extra days perfecting.” Calvin noticed that Malcor maybe felt the same about getting this much attention. “One time, my father - the mayor of Klenna, needed his sword sharpened. My great-grandfather’s sword, a family heirloom from his stint in Bloodstone. R’Dar Tor wanted extortionist prices to repair it. Some of the masters did not think it was possible. It was a magical blade but rust had set in on the blade near the cross guard. They feared breaking the blade and losing the magic. Several weeks later, Malcor came by and said he would do it. And damn but if he did not do it that very night! It was a perfect repair.”
The Tor rep spoke up and interrupted, “Did the mayor of Klenna pay Tor for the repair?”
Mal looked back at them and said, “Calvin, your dad confused the swords. Paladin swords do not rust no matter how old. My forge took in an antique replica of that sword and restored it. The mayor was invoiced and paid. The armory’s ledger would prove this.”
“We’ll be sure to check,” the representative said. Malcor knew that when they did, they’d find everything completely in order. Malcor had actually done work on both the replica as well as the actual blade just in case there ever were an audit.
Ora asked, “Is your sword the heirloom one Calvin?”
He nodded. “Yes, I’m the first since my great grandfather to qualify as an initiate. This is probably nothing to the sword Malcor presented at the Ceremony though.” He removed the sword and scabbard from its frog and handed it to Ora. She drew the blade just enough to fully view the pommel and keen blade. Scrollwork art and letters describing its bearer and his exploits ran its length.
“A beautiful sword. I can see why your family would have made a replica. I’m sure many asked to see it over the years. Malcor, may I?” wanting to see his sword.
“When we get to a stopping point, sure. How much farther?"
“We’ll be at the Fountain of Dragons in about another mile. That’s a crossroads between this district, the road to the dragon emperor, the Temple, and the Great Fountain in the merchant district south. There we can either grab a room for the night, or continue. The Temple does not sleep so we can arrive at any time. You almost died and have been on the road continuously. Our friends here from House Tor may want to rest for the night as well?”
No one seemed willing to say they needed rest and so, in silence, they came to the Fountain of Dragons without a decision. The fountain represented each of the cardinal dragons worshipped. Pure water flowed into the fountain basin easily large enough to look like a small, if perfectly round, lake. Bridges arced up over the pool which in turn, drained southwards to fill the basin at the Great Fountain. In the merchant district, the Great Fountain became a play area for children. Here, in the wealthiest district and the most important crossroads of the empire, the pool sat undisturbed and mirror smooth. Looking down into it, Malcor saw the stars and moonlit clouds perfectly reflected except for occasional lapping from the fountain overflow.
Ora walked now in silence next to Malcor only speaking to point out some landmark or correct something Calvin said. Northwards, the road to the dragon emperor’s throne glistened in the dark night sky lit by stars and a cloud-covered moon. A merchant’s guild tavern straddled the road framed by a human incarnate form of the emperor holding hands to make an arch with Takhissis. The statues stood as high as a four story building. The tavern’s windows flickered with light and from even here, the humming of many conversations carried to them on the wind.
Straight ahead, the Temple’s road lay marked by a shrine on the northern side and a cluster of other religion shrines on the southern side. Though Takhissis and the dragons enforced an official religion, travelers, customs, trade, and excommunication held enough worshippers of other gods that their presence was officially recognized, even welcomed. The southern road followed the basin’s canal to the Great Fountain in the merchant district. Merchant Guild offices as well as the Adventurer’s Guild headquarters sat astride that wide boulevard. Malcor felt fatigue grow on him as his eyes traced the Temple road in a straight line up the mountain.
Seeing they had reached a decision point, Malcor finally said what he hoped the others were thinking. “My friends, I must apologize. Calvin and I have been on the road for many days and my skin and clothing reek of my burn wounds. Before arriving at the Temple, I would like to rest and recover as well as change. Priestess, since there are no paladins here, may I ask your permission to visit the Shrine and recover?”
She nodded, and seemed relieved. So did the others. The Tor representatives made a brief fuss over the charger and its deceased cargo before agreeing that Ora could take it. They left to the northern tavern and agreed to meet at first sun to make the climb.
When Calvin and Malcor crossed the arched entry to the shrine, a sob of relief almost escaped them. The shrine had been set out with a banquet of food, drinks, and a wash basin awaited them. Twinkling lights floated in the air and various functionaries bustled about while chanting an ancient hymn in the Temple’s sinuous and raw dragon tongue, the first language dragons taught their human children eons ago. A young girl, probably an apprentice, came forward and held up a wash basin for Ora and then similar basins appeared for Malcor and Calvin. The water smelled faintly of roses.
After washing their hands and face, the apprentice sat Ora at the head of the table while Malcor and Calvin found themselves puled to a side passage and then into a bathing room. Their guides pointed to the flowing water dripping down from the ceiling and then to the steaming pool of clean water clearly meant for relaxing. They tugged on their clothing and when stripped, vanished. Suddenly, the smell of food and a voice saying “Don’t make me wait” carried in on a breeze. The boys quickly cleaned themselves and were glad to see their clothing returned clean.
Minutes later, they sat down to Ora’s side. She bowed her head and prayed thanking the Queen, the Temple, and the dragons for the bounty of food, the gift of fire by combat, and the Queen’s justice in preserving and bringing them toge
ther. Though basic fare, the food tasted fresh and better than anything they had eaten since leaving Klenna. As apprentices cleared the table, Ora indicated she would like to see Malcor’s sword. “I have heard of the apprentice’s sword. Now that I have seen it drop a mounted enemy and heard the story of how you slew R’Dar Tor, I would like to hold it.” She held out her hand.
Malcor drew the blade from its scabbard. In this place, it made a soft keening sound. Candlelight caught its razor edge and set the golden script work aflame with red and orange. As he did every time, he noticed something not quite right with it. “It feels a little top heavy since the Ceremony,” and then turned it sideways for her to take.
Holding it sideways against the light, she bent forward and looked at the calligraphy along its tine. “No story of a great grandfather here. You chose to inscribe scripture, and in the dragon tongue?” She ran her fingers along the writings. “You chose a scripture from the first age’s ending. Interesting.” Seeing Calvin’s questioning look, “A passage describing when Chaos tried to eat creation, and failed. It marks the beginning of Time, of death, of humans, magic, elves, and other races and monsters that fill this world. Of the gods.”
“Oh yeah, I remember that,” Calvin said, pretending to know.
Malcor just held the sword still for her scrutiny. “I always imagined it as a time of heroes, fighting against Chaos, but since meeting the King, the Priestess, and seeing the dread lords, I now understand that there is another meaning.” Seeing Ora look up at him and testing, he added, “That Chaos was trying to stop the River, and before the River, all of creation was godly.”
“I can’t believe you made this. It is light and balances like one of Sai’s best. Do you know magic?” He shook his head no. “Yet it is built with powerful magic. A gift from the Goddess no doubt.” She looked straight down the blade and took a few practice swings. “Did you know that your sword, this sword, is famous? I’ve heard my matron speak of it with some of the paladins in her entourage.” At last, she held the blade to her lips and kissed it. “Thank you,” she said handing it back to Malcor.
A small statue of the Goddess wrought in a dark grey silvery metal and etched in Temple script looked over the room and a series of nondescript stone benches. Ora moved to and sat on one of these. Calvin and Malcor felt exhausted and finally freed from the hunger of travel could easily have gone to sleep. Instead, they found themselves sitting down and taking in the shrine’s interior. To break the silence more than anything else, Calvin finally asked a question. It echoed more than it felt it should in the stone-chamber. “Can you tell us what happens tomorrow?”
Ora, who had been looking at the Goddess' image, turned around to face Calvin. She explained that when they arrived at the Temple, they would need to find any member of the knighthood and introduce themselves. “Be careful though. There are multiple orders within the knighthood and they are quite competitive. In a way, this is how you select which order you apply for. That knight will take responsibility for your indoctrination, qualification, and training. Every year, around this time, many initiates come to the Temple. Most arrive as part of Temple service. The actual number of initiates directed to the knighthood is always, surprisingly, quite small. Still, it is so exciting!”
Doubly exhausted from his earlier combat and relentless travel and wounds, Malcor felt the room swimming. Ora may have asked a question of him, but when he tried to focus, he found instead an exhausted sleep.
He woke in a small room on a flat wooden pallet, what passed for a bed for low ranking members of the Temple. His clothes, all mended and cleaned to near new condition, waited on a chair. It felt disorienting to wake up naked, but he felt a thousand times better than the night before. He stretched and noted the areas of pink skin where the Ora’s healing prayer had mended burnt and dying flesh just hours earlier. The Shrine sat quiet and from the dim light, he thought it might be pre-dawn. Across the hall, he noted Calvin’s prostrate and apparently also nude form.
He stood up and stretched noting that even his boots had been repaired and polished. He heard a humming sound from the Shrine’s main chamber and recognized the tune as a nursery rhyme common in Tania. It told the tale of how the dragons had pledged themselves to the Goddess and in turn creation had pledged to the dragons as protectors. He found himself whisper singing along as he got dressed and at last stepped out. Ora stopped when she heard him in the hallway. When he arrived in the main room, he looked but did not see her. The light grew and turning around he saw a patio open to the east where the sun had begun to climb through a low dip between the Temple mount and the rest of the mountain range. Ora sat on a stone step watching eastwards.
He debated joining her when she asked, “Is your friend still sleeping?”
“Yes. I don’t think the mayor’s son had to wake up as early as my master did me at the forge.” An attendant came out with a small platter of fruit, cheese, and water. He took it and walked out to the patio.
Any second the sun would rise and the first ray of morning would shoot out. “There is often a mist over the city and the eastern mountains this time of year. The humidity and higher altitude here makes it happen. Then you get all the fires in the city. Look!” A spear of sunlight cut through striking Malcor’s left hand where he stood. She looked at his hand and then added, “An omen. Watch,” and lifted his hand so the spear would continue into the Shrine. It struck the Goddess statue. Somewhere a chime sounded. “Normally, blocking the first day’s light is considered bad but for innocents who do not yet understand, there is prophecy for each to be touched by the light before the Goddess. I’d imagine that right now, all across Tania, your experience is repeating. For some, the light strikes their face, or chest, or leg before continuing into the main chamber. To touch the Goddess next, is an omen of good fortune. For your hand, an omen of strength of will and action. Go and look at the Goddess statue where the light shines.”
Malcor went in and saw Temple script glowing in the sunbeam. In fact, the entire statue’s every surface contained writing. “The Goddess breathed and Her Air burnt like fire, froze as ice, stung as venom, danced as lightning, and all but the darkest of shadow witnessed Her gift. Let creation bear witness that it is mine, she said, and I gift it to all My Children.” Ora walked up behind Malcor and touched the script. “Speak the verse,” she whispered. “My master Sai has granted you a gift.”
Malcor read the verse with the odd draconian lilt, doing his best to inflect the Temple language. Ora held in her hand a gleaming silver rose cast of metal that reflected light as if water. As he spoke the words, small red script appeared in fiery letters along the rose’s petals. When he finished, she let go of the rose and it hung in mid-air. It slowly began to rotate. Each petal and leaf in the perfect replica threw light from the sun in a prismatic spray. “It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like this. Why?"
Ora nodded and lightly touched the rose. At her touch it made a soft humming sound like crystal when rubbed with a wet finger. “Sai is a master golem smith. His best work is with mithril. But he has an artistic streak as well. He makes these for another House, the one you met earlier – Daryx. Sai gave me this gift when I finally passed my Temple rites. I want to give it to you.” She blushed. “So you don’t forget. Touch it…”
She took his hand and lifted it to the flower. A similar hum but deeper sounded out. She touched it a second later, and her sound rose up over his. “Every person has a different aura. I’m not a fortune teller, but I can hear one, were she here, telling you that this omen, this scripture, means you have all dragons balanced within you but you have a rebellious nature. Do you believe that?” She laughed. “The shadow dragons. I’ve heard Sai speaking with others that soon, even the shadow dragons will join the dread lords. When you study, look at the shadow dragons through the lens of prophecy rather than metaphor. They're real.” She plucked the flower out of the air and placed it back in a leather-like pouch but padded. “Here.”
Malcor took it
and thanked her. Her face seemed bright and full of color, especially her eyes. When Calvin stepped out of his room rubbing his eyes and face, both of them broke their gaze and she stepped back. Outside, they heard two horses walk up and riders talking to the Temple attendants. The House of Tor representatives had just arrived. It would no doubt be a long day but Mal found him looking at Ora whenever he could. The butterflies in his stomach and the way he found her looking back at him made the morning breeze by.
Chapter Ten – House Tor's Fate
All too soon, they joined a growing crowd of travelers making their way to the Temple At Morbatten. Like Ora, some members of the group were obviously Priests or Priestesses. People afforded them lots of space. At one point, a young girl barely able to walk stumbled into their way and Ora caught her as she almost fell. The parents rushed up full of apology but Ora set them at ease. She held the little girl and whispered a prayer. To the girl’s delight, a butterfly-sized dragon began dancing in the air just in front of her face. The girl turned to chase it, towards the Temple. “I hope that helps,” Ora said to the parents.
The Temple looked close but Malcor realized that he had failed to understand how massive the structure actually was. When they finally reached the bottom steps, and he stood looking up the 100 steps to the grand entrance, he finally got it. The Temple had not been built for humans to worship the Goddess. Its audience had allowed humans to use it. Its audience was dragons. While Armageddon might have had to humanshift to enter, any of the other dread lords would have easily been able to walk or even fly directly in. Almost black columns held the roof, each covered in pictograms and Temple script that varied with the color and story by dragon type. A knight stood at the base of each column. The northern side of the Temple had a smaller door for those serving. As they climbed, their group joined many others at the entryway.
Malcor's Story Page 10