Daryx shoved Malcor back into the River. As he cleared his senses, the bar of ice struck his heart. Still recovering from the River, Malcor felt it touch, then burn, then pierce his skin and spear his heart in slow motion. His heart spasmed as it tore through his back and struck the ground. His body shook threatening to die held upright. He grabbed the pole. His lips moved and frozen, they split and cracked bleeding. “My Queen, my love for you. My dream… to serve.”
He labored to breathe and willed his heart to beat. “I am yours.” His hands found strength and squeezing, he shattered the bar of ice. The dragon reared up, and the end connected to its claw began falling, twisting and shattering by section. Its wings beat three times and Malcor counted each saying, “I am Yours.”
The dragon plunged and rolled, its massive wings folding around as its entire body shot towards Malcor. The length in his heart slipped out and back as he leaned forward and fell to his hands and knees. The dragon’s head reached out from the folded wings and its mouth opened, crackling with the terrible power of its breath weapon. “My Queen, I live to serve. I am yours. My dream. Is to love and serve.”
Strength and pain shocked through him as suddenly, his deadened limbs came alive. The cloying snow became firm like stonework. He stood and looked up into the onslaught. White dragons breathe winter weather and this one unleashed a blast of razor hail. The deadly cone followed by the dragon itself would no doubt slay Malcor if he did not move, but “Like you, I serve Takhissis.” He stood unflinching and the cone of razor hail slammed down all around him, but did not touch him. The dragon fell like a comet, but pulled his maw back at the last instant. The wings opened like a whip and the dragon landed around Malcor. Except for the snow blinding his eyes, Malcor choked back the fear and stood trying not to flinch.
The dragon stared at him, slowly lifting its head back from his. It hissed, “Well done little egg. What changed for you? I saw you die a thousand times and then you enervated… and lived.”
Malcor saw cruelty but also the beauty of a world blanketed in clean white, the snow revealing prey tracks, and the infinite chaos of crystalized ice. All this and more, Malcor saw looking into the dragon’s eyes. “I serve your mother and love your beautiful dream.”
The dragon began wheezing and it took moments for Malcor to realize it had started to laugh. “You? Love my dream? What do you know of my dream? You humans – so arrogant - but you do not know.” The dragon opened its claws and looked at Malcor. The dragonfear slammed into him and overwhelmed him. Malcor realized the dragon was testing its own boundaries with the Goddess. Those razor claws turned to him and a malevolent smile creased its white face. “How could food KNOW what a dragon wants?!”
He stood firm but the fear had taken root and his faith shook. Not knowing what else to do, he ran. His first steps stuck in the snow, but then he remembered his faith and how the snow had firmed under his feet. He sprinted. Behind him, the dragon swiped at him, halfheartedly or else he’d surely be dead. He felt its regard and the fear wracked him again, and then nothing as the dragon jumped back to the skies.
Freed from cold, fear, and the sinking snow, Malcor ran straight towards the summit as best he could. His legs above his knees ached and tore with agony. Below that, and his lower arms, nothing. His skin had turned pale gray-white, and multiple lacerations tore bleeding only to then re-freeze. He did his best to run, but his feet dragged on the now-firm snow leaving behind a bleeding calligraphic signature of frozen blood. The dragon’s mountain towered much higher than the emperor’s throne room. The thin air made him pause frequently. He stopped to catch his breath and then proceeded more slowly. After what felt like an eternity, it occurred to him that physical exhaustion or even breathlessness should not impede him any more than a dragon’s breath weapon or weather would. He steeled his faith and renewed his sprint to the top.
When sunrise touched the peak, six black rectangles opened in the air from which Daryx and his knights stepped onto the snowpack. Malcor sat crouched down in the snow. They thought he had fallen asleep but he was actually studying the three inch ice-packed hole in his chest through his heart. His cold-dead feet and unresponsive hands had withered to bone poking through the skin on his feet. All was quiet as they listened to the wind and the wheezing sounds of Malcor's breath, as he struggled to stay alive.
Dar Shara embraced Malcor in prayer. For him, he felt death had finally taken him. He'd felt warm since before his encounter with Ynt'taris. Suddenly, that warmth exploded throughout him as red hair, sunlight, and pain lanced through his heart and into his legs. His roar of agony from the healing echoed and then he collapsed into the priestess' arms who stroked his head and whispered, "You're safe now. You survived."
One by one, the knights with Daryx removed their cloaks. Dar Rojo, Dar Shara, Armageddon, the lady knight from the Order of Water, and a fifth he did not recognize all began clapping. “Well done sir!” Daryx exclaimed. Pointing at the unknown, Daryx said, “Malcor, may I introduce Dar Reznor, head of the Mage’s Guild?”
While Reznor stepped forward, Armageddon grabbed a handful of snow in his massive fist and squeezed. Steam burst from his gauntlet and then he opened it. A white ring of crystal ice sat there. Daryx took it and stepped to Malcor and Reznor. “This is a ring given to novice knights who reached the summit. Most do not even try. It is specific to this test and bears the name of the dragon you stood against.” Daryx grinned. “I, we are all impressed.”
Reznor whispered a spell and stabbed the ring through Malcor’s ear. As it magically sealed, Reznor said, “Your ring commemorates your match with Ynt’taris, patriarch of ice breathers.”
Rojo stepped forward now and Malcor noticed that the king had an identical ear ring. In fact, except for the dread lord, all of them did. “Malcor, you have passed your first rite. A process that often requires months of training to overcome dragonfear alone. And, then months of physical conditioning to survive and overcome with faith the trial here that would kill a normal person. We have great expectations for your progress.” He looked at Malcor’s legs and arms. “You lost your flesh but faith and resolve carried you through this. The Queen will always guard you, and in the end, it is your faith and trust in Her that kept you from dying.”
The king, Dar Rojo, stepped back and bowed to Malcor, as did the others. Dar Shara stepped aside and Malcor saw R’Dar Ora rush forward and prayed for healing to continue what Shara had started. He had turned himself off to the cold and fear and pain. Though still cold and freezing, he tried to stand but his legs betrayed him and once again, Ora helped him.
The lady knight from the Order of Water stepped forward and bowed low. “Squire Malcor, you have passed your first rite. You have received the Knight’s Ring,” she touched the cool ice ring through his ear, “and stand here on Morbatten to greet the sunrise.” She switched to draconian, “Does not the Mother look after Her Children?” She withdrew a pair of boots from the folds of her armor and, kneeling, helped Malcor step into them. "These will protect you from Nature's wrath. Wearing them, you will always feel perfectly at ease whether in a place like this, or in the hottest desert."
They felt warm. In fact, even standing there naked, the chill vanished completely. Aware of the cold, but unaffected by it, he expressed his thanks. The King stepped forward again and held out two rings of dark grey metal. He placed one on each of Malcor’s hands. In draconian, he said, “Her Children shall wield Justice in their left hand and Righteous Might in their strong right arm.” He took Malcor’s left hand and raised it up to the sun. “This will summon or dismiss your armor. The ring is linked to your breastplate by the Temple.” Same with his right arm, “This is linked to your sword, Coming Undone. You will learn how to summon without conscious thought. Until then, squeeze your fist and say either Justice or Righteous Might. Give it a try. Dismissal is harder than summoning so for now, focus on summoning.”
The king stepped back. Malcor squeezed his left fist and said, “Justice.” Within a second, da
rk grey plate armor bearing the Order of Water’s crest framed him, fitting perfectly. Its chrome silver gleam and Temple script sparkled in sunlight and snowy white all around. “Righteous Might!” and his sword leapt into his hand, ready.
Dar Rojo smiled, “These gifts are tools. You do not own them. They are the Queen’s.”
Reznor now stepped forward and placed his hands open near Malcor’s temples. He began to chant and Malcor felt something enwrap his head and then take on the leather feeling and weight of a helmet. A nose guard and visor covered his face in the same dark grey metal and then vanished. Not quite vanished, he realized, the helmet’s weight was still there but it was invisible. When Reznor finished chanting, he took a deep breath. “This helmet is separate from your armor. The Emperor desires all knights of the Order of Water to have special protections. It responds to physical and magical attacks. Its limitation is that it can only protect against one or the other, but not both at the same time. When masked and near invisible like this, it protects against magic, particularly the type that would influence your emotions and thoughts. When in physical form, it completes your armor and serves as an actual helmet.”
Armageddon now stepped forward. “Human, you have much to learn. Do not let all of this go to your head. Hold still.” Armageddon removed one of his massive gauntlets. His hand skin showed black and red tinged reptile scales but the end of his index finger elongated into a dragon claw and burned red hot. Without warning, he stabbed the claw into Malcor’s heart.
Malcor choked and though he tried to retain his posture, he failed and writhed twisting on the burning claw. “This,” twist, “is to remind,” twist back, “you always that,” twist up, “you live by,” he lifted Malcor off the ground by that single burning claw and roared “our permission!” He ripped the claw out and caught Malcor to his feet as he fell. And, Dar Shara had somehow come from behind with another healing prayer that held him for a moment on death’s door and then fully revived him. He felt Ora choke as she barely caught him adding her prayer to Shara's.
The dread lord stepped back and Dar Shara came around. “You’ll have to get used to this. The Queen has no use for knights who fear pain or death. We will continue to kill your fear of death until all of it is gone from you.” She smiled and the seduction in her smile stole his breath away.
She stretched her arms up to the sky and three times said the Queen’s full name in draconian. On the third time, she placed one hand over the torn hole in his breastplate and other on the pommel of his sword. Golden light followed by flashes of the prime dragon colors – red, blue, green, black, white, and then darkest blackness. Where she withdrew her hands, the Temple symbol of the Queen adorned his mended breastplate and the pommel of his sword. “These symbols will allow you to channel the Queen’s power, as if a Priest, when there is no member of the Priesthood with you. They also proclaim to all that you are a Knight of Takhissis. You are instructed now to return to your quarters and rest. Eat. Heal. Many initiates fail this first rite, either by dying or losing heart when presented with these gifts. You have done well. Our Mother is proud of you Sir Malcor!”
Each of them stepped back raising a weapon before their face in salute. The king and the lady knight raised their swords, Reznor a wand, the two priestesses their Temple maces, Daryx a scimitar, and Armageddon a dragon claw. Malcor raised his sword and returned the salute. Black doorways opened at Reznor’s command, and stepping through, Malcor found himself with the others in the main room of the Order of Water.
Eleven knights sat in full armor in the chapel and stood as they appeared on the stage. Healers, battle priests, and others sat behind them. The lady with Malcor turned and addressed them, “Fellow knights of the Water. Meet Sir Malcor, our newest member!” The sword salute was repeated by each who then withdrew their helmets and greeted Malcor with their name and title.
At last, the lady knight who had brought Malcor in and then beaten him, stepped forward. “Sir Malcor, for now, you are my squire and I will mentor you in the Queen’s Grace. I am Dar Kendra, eldest sister to Dar Kell. I guess that makes you my nephew. Don't let it go to your head. I was the first priestess to crossover to the rank of paladin. I have fought in three Bloodstone Campaigns and currently serve as special advisor to the Circle. I am a dragonshifter.”
She turned to the others and said, “Let it be known that last night at second bell, Malcor was taken to Morbatten's peak, and naked on the northern face, summited after facing the white dragon Ynt’taris. Having achieved his first rite, he has been ordered to complete all three rites before first snow. He will need all of our help to do this. After careful thought and consultation with the Temple, I have decided that R’Dar Tembri shall serve as Malcor’s battle priest. Let him come forward.”
From the back of the chapel, Malcor heard a slight commotion that sounded like congratulations being whispered. A middle-aged man, strong, and covered in scars walked boldly down to the stage and bowed low to Malcor. “Sir Malcor, may my faith be your shield and my strong arm the beam on which our enemies shall break.” He stood and Malcor realized the scars were actually barbarian tattoos reminiscent of the northern wild tribes the emperor kept mostly separated from the rest of the empire.
Kendra added, “R’Dar Tembri has been groomed to serve the Order awaiting a new initiate for five years. Because our Order rarely has new initiates, we actually have a number of battle priests ready." She looked out at the area in the back from where Tembri had stood. "To you still waiting, patience. A time is coming when you will serve the Order of Water. And, we will require your skill in the days of Malcor's second rite.
“As I just noted, Malcor is to be hastened. The next rite requires combat. Knights of the Order, we will be outnumbered and so you will each receive an additional battle priest. Battle priests, step forward and be chosen now! Daryx will share with us the details of the next rite.”
Daryx stepped forward and began, “So, our southern trade partners at Ori have requested our assistance. They asked Taysor first but my sources say Taysor has dispatched a group by boat that will not arrive in time to make a difference. Intervention and contingency is what I do for the Circle. So, I met them on their way to Taysor and offered Tania's help. As you all know, Ori is a small fortified kingdom on the northern bay of the island of Khasra. They are also an important trading partner and do not restrict the Queen’s worship amongst its people. Their culture and martial arts hold a special place in Dar Rojo's heart.
“A party of adventurers there recently uncovered an ancient ruin beneath a mountain. While mapping it, the adventurers came under attack and were forced to retreat. The attackers followed them back to Ori’s southern wall, which is now under siege by all manner of foe. Of particular interest is the appearance of a lich who is either leading the attack or is fronting the actual power behind it.”
At this point, he asked Reznor to activate the combat rune and an illusion of Khasra appeared. The southern gate of Ori then came into view and Malcor noted the Imperic appearance of its architecture. The illusionary view of the gate then opened out to a road heading into Khasra’s center. Malcor remembered from his studies that there are two paths to immortality. One is Ascension where a hero transcends the real world and enters the realm of the gods. The other is through undeath. To preserve free will against the immortal gods of necromancy, especially the jade god, transforming oneself into a lich – that is, a vessel for magic devoid of the soul, is the only other way. In Tania, early experiments by the Mage's Guild had proven it could be done but the Emperor had removed its study along with all necromancy many centuries ago.
“The lich is not known to us nor does it appear in our recorded history. It must therefore predate even our tribal founding. To have survived this long, free of the Jade God’s influence, is notable but creates a risk that the jade god will try to claim the lich and make it a Hellhound. Our forces at the Bloodstone Temple report that all hellhounds have been either spotted or slain recently. As such, the ri
sk is low of the lich being taken.
"How does this matter to your newest member and the Order, you may wonder. Malcor, the second rite is to face a mighty enemy. To stay in this Order, you must defeat a vampire or stronger undead, convert or slay a dragon, or serve a Bloodstone campaign. Usually, for other Orders, an undead is summoned in the Temple and defeated there after many months if not years of training. You will train for three days and then we leave for Ori. During those three days, you will accomplish your second rite. You will not face a strong undead in the controlled safety of the Temple. You will face and defeat the lich. The Order will create that opportunity for you. Any questions?”
Tembri laughed and clapped Malcor’s back, “By the Goddess, a lich! A mighty foe indeed!"
One by one, the rest of the Order came forward and introduced themselves and their battle priests to Malcor. By title alone, he noted that they were all Dar rank. He also saw that all of them including their battle priests bore the Bloodstone ruby ear ring given to veterans after their first campaign in that valley.
As they spoke, a space was cleared and a table set with a late breakfast. Though full of questions, Malcor found the combined late night activities, encounter with Ynt’taris the white dragon, and spending so much time in prayer to save his life from his wounds and the bitter cold, had left him exhausted. Very quickly, he began struggling to stay awake. Much to his relief, he felt Tembri’s hand on his back shoulder and felt a surge of energy. He still felt exhausted but remained alert. During a moment, Tembri carefully whispered, “An enervation prayer to hold onto awareness for long watches and battles.”
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