by James Somers
The rebels had been active for years now, steadily growing more bold in their activities, but never carrying out anything so violent within the cities. I was still amazed that they had dared to strike at a patron city of one of the Serpent Kings, let alone Belial’s temple and palace. More to my puzzlement though was the lack of response by the dragon gods.
Thus far, the dragons had not called for any attacks upon the rebels. No one had been executed; not even one arrest in connection with these events had been made. Their apparent apathy baffled me. After all, Belial and the others were gods. Did they not care about the sacrilege committed against their holy places, or was there some other reason why they had not responded.
I tried to push out any doubts dwelling on the fringes of my mind. Such blasphemy was exactly the sort of thing rebels like Ezekiah and his band of heretics promoted. The Elder Mothers had warned every acolyte among the priestesses to be wary of thoughts that seemed to lead one away from a diligent faith in our gods. Unproductive questions and emotions were to be purged from the mind so that we could better serve our benevolent lords and thus attain to the coming Renewal without fail.
Zora smiled at one point during our visit. “I’ve been informed of the remarkable way you performed during the crisis at the temple,” she said. “The High Priest himself came to see me.”
“About me?” I asked.
“Well, he came to see how I was doing, of course. However, he mentioned what had happened during the attack. He was very complimentary of your defense of the temple.”
I was sitting on the edge of my seat by now. “What did he say exactly, Zora?”
She laughed a little before a twinge of pain corrected her. “I hope I’ve not birthed pride into my pupil at so late a stage in her training,” she said wistfully.
“You’re teasing, Zora,” I pouted.
“Still, I suppose it’s too late for me to do anything about it,” she said. “Your days under my tutelage are certainly at an end.”
My good humor faded, supposing she was referring to her own injuries. “Please, Zora, don’t talk like that. You’ll soon be back to your duties in due time.” After all, there was no finer warrior in the entire kingdom than my Elder Mother.
She smiled brightly. “You’re right, child, I will. But I wasn’t talking about me.” She finished cryptically.
She must have seen my puzzlement, or sensed the imminent question. However, she had no intention of entertaining my curiosity on the matter any longer. “Now, you must leave me to rest, Gwen.”
“Well, all right,” I said. “But I’ll come back tomorrow to see if you need anything.”
Zora smiled as I got up to leave. As I started out through the doors I heard her call after me. “Don’t be late for your appointment, Gwen.”
I turned, but she had rolled away from me in her bed, leaving me her back and more puzzles to work out in my head.
I had had no appointment to attend on time, or otherwise, when I went to visit Zora in the infirmary. However, by the time I had reached my room within our ward, a courier was waiting to see me. “Priestess Gwen, currently serving under Elder Mother Zora?” the courier asked.
“Jen, of course it’s me,” I replied. “We’ve known each other for years.”
Jen frowned at me. “Don’t begrudge me the formality, Gwen. It’s my job, after all.”
“Of course,” I said, grinning a little. “What message have you, Courier Jen?”
Jen broke the wax seal on a small scroll she was carrying, then read the message it contained. “Priestess Gwen, serving under Elder Mother Zora, you are to report to the Council of the High Guard by noon today, the twelfth day of Corrin.” She rolled the scroll again and then handed it to me.
Jen stayed a moment longer, which was not customary for a courier on duty. My apprehension might have shown in my expression, and Jen was a close friend near my age. “Gwen, are you all right. I’m sure it’s nothing bad. After all, you did just save Belial’s temple, not to mention many lives.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” I managed. It was usually a matter of discipline when a wraith dancer was called before the High Guard’s council members. Still, Zora had apparently gotten wind of this meeting…and she didn’t seem concerned for me over it.
“Perhaps it’s a much deserved promotion they wish to bestow on our hero of the hour,” Jen mused. She smiled at the thought, then at me. “Yes, I’m sure that’s what it must be.”
I returned her smile, even if only half-heartedly. Surely it wasn’t trouble. I had saved the lives of many worshipping at the temple. And Zora had mentioned the High Priest himself being very complimentary. I gave Jen a more sincere smile. “I hope you’re right.”
“When have I ever not been?” she teased. “Now, be sure to be on time. And don’t forget to find me and tell me everything when you’ve finished.”
Jen had left me to ready myself. I couldn’t go dressed in a simple tunic. I would have to pull my long dark hair up in the bobbed manner worn by wraith dancers and put on my warrior’s uniform: a deep blue light weight tunic with matching trousers. The uniform was fashionable as well as practical. Its color complimented the woman wearing it while many interior and exterior pockets provided a means for hiding various weapons.
A ceremonial dagger accented the uniform, resting on my left hip. It was functional—a wraith dancer would never carry a weapon for looks only—but it was far from the only weapon on my person. Even while attending a formal ceremony with the Council of the High Guard, a wraith dancer was expected to be ready to protect the interests of the Serpent Kings. And since everyone sitting on the council was a warrior of more experience than myself, only a fool would have chosen such a meeting to attack.
At least that was what I told myself. The events over the last week had changed my perception of our omnipotence considerably. The rebels had found a way inside, had known our comings and goings, had seen weaknesses we did not realize existed…and they had exploited them far better than we would ever have anticipated. I hoped, at the very least, that these were insights the High Council shared because these sorts of attacks would almost certainly continue.
Now that I sat waiting outside the new council chambers, I realized just how much things had changed. In days prior, the council had met within a small amphitheater with marble columns supporting a stained glass dome that pictured the five Serpent Kings lording over the world. This chamber was completely enclosed and the doors were shut with guards posted to either side.
Considering what had happened a week ago, I was not surprised by the move. After all, it was a strategic necessity. The High Guard was a critical part of the kingdom’s day to day security. Still, this change helped to underscore emotions we were all experiencing. We no longer felt completely safe.
The guards did not look at me directly. Though, undoubtedly, I never left the careful scrutiny of their keen peripheral vision. As wraith dancers we were taught to keep multiple enemies in our peripheral vision, so that we could be aware of more going on around us at any given moment. I had found over the years that even when facing a single opponent I centered my focus at chest height while keeping arms and legs and head in my peripheral vision in order to follow their movements altogether.
At precisely the noon hour, a chime sounded from the other side of the door—only loud enough to be discerned by the guards or careful listeners. The door guards reacted simultaneously, turning inward to open the doors. I rose from the wooden bench directly opposite and strode forward without regarding either of the women particularly.
A short stair led me to a small round dais in the middle of the chamber which happened to resemble the former open-air meeting place very much. The oval room was fashioned from a light colored marble, as were most things in the palace, and it had columns lining its perimeter with a solid wall taking up the spaces between. Overhead the dome was solid marble.
It certainly gave the feeling of safety. The doors had been closed behind me already. We w
ere completely isolated from the outside world.
Around me, seated upon high-backed wooden thrones, sat the twenty-five members of the Council of the High Guard. Five served from each of the five patron cities within the realm of the Serpent Kings. At the very head position, directly opposite the dais, sat Cora the Supreme Matron.
While others would be allowed to comment in turn, it would be the Supreme Matron who would conduct the proceedings, carrying out any exchange between the council and the accused. Under the pious stares of these highly revered matrons, I certainly felt like someone accused of a crime. My feeling of unworthiness enveloped me like a cloud, growing by the minute as silence continued to dominate the room.
Not until I took my place at the dais did the Supreme Matron address the assembly. “We have gathered here today for the express purpose of acknowledging the heroic actions of Priestess Gwen in the face of what would have certainly turned into an unspeakable tragedy had she not intervened,” Cora said in a strong voice to no one in particular.
Instantly, my worst fears abated. Jen had been right. The next few minutes might very well prove to be some of the greatest in my life. I listened as attentively as I ever had while the Supreme Matron continued with her opening statement. She regarded me directly then.
“Priestess Gwen, we and the people of Babale find ourselves very grateful for such a fine apprentice ascending through our ranks,” she continued. “Elder Mother Zora is to be commended as well for her fine training.”
As she spoke, I noticed a general murmur of assent carrying around the chamber from the other matrons on the council. Quick sidelong glances rewarded me with smiles, winks and a few nodding acknowledgments. It was all I could do to maintain a straight face for the sake of decorum.
“I will admit that though your name had been submitted for advancement to the High Guard, likely you would not have received that appointment,” Cora said, stirring up silence within the solemn chamber again. “However, I am of the firm belief that this would have been a grave oversight of your recent progress and extraordinary ability. Thankfully, fate has given you the opportunity you needed to prove our prior decision premature.”
I felt weightless standing upon the dais. Had I looked down to find my body far beneath me, I would not have been surprised. The moment was building to the inevitable climax. As eager as I was to hear the words, I did not want this time to end.
“Therefore,” Cora continued, “it gives me great pleasure to advance you from your apprenticeship under Elder Mother Zora to the place of a mature wraith dancer in service to the High Serpent King, Belial the Glorious.”
I smiled without reservation now, my face no doubt glowing as the Supreme Matron’s words sank in. I was no longer a child, but a woman. I was no longer an apprentice under tutelage, but a wraith dancer working independently and eligible for a higher position of service.
“Furthermore,” Cora said, standing before her throne with a smile, “Priestess Gwen, you have been very highly recommended for one of the open positions of service among the High Guard. We would like to offer you this opportunity.” There was a brief pause as the Supreme Matron conferred visually with her peers. “What say you?”
This was the moment I had been dreaming of for many years now. Not only had I finished my training, I was being given the opportunity to serve among the most revered warriors in the kingdom. This was as high an honor as I could ever have hoped for. All that was necessary was my answer. I remained muddle-headed for only a moment before providing it.
“Supreme Matron, if it pleases the Council, I gratefully accept this appointment to the High Guard.”
Cora regarded me with an acknowledging nod. “So let it be written, so let it be done.”
Instantly, the other council members rose from their thrones in answer. “So let it be written, so let it be done.”
I stood there on the dais wanting to shout, run, dance—anything that would release the pent up anxiety and newfound joy coursing through my veins. But for the moment I remained dignified. For above all other things, I wanted to serve.
THORN MOUNTAIN
Nearly a week of traveling by horse had finally brought Donavan home. He sat upon his tired steed in the snow glazed valley before Thorn Mountain, looking toward the stonework castle set high upon its face; clearly visible only to the initiated. The valley itself was broad and relatively flat; the perfect place for a siege army to make their camp. However, it also afforded Ezekiah and his people the opportunity to attack from the high ground all around if they so desired.
Another two hours riding brought Donavan to Thorn Mountain’s base encampment, sitting comfortably at only one thousand feet above the valley floor. Here Ezekiah had left a permanent outpost where travelers could spend the night in a comfortable, roomy cave sheltered from the elements. Food and drink were always in good supply, and there were soldiers on hand to keep order and provide protection if necessary.
In addition, the base camp acted as an early warning station to the castle above. A message could be sent to the top posthaste using specially trained falcons. These birds lived their well-fed lives in the Thorn Mountains. It had been a relatively easy matter to make use of them as carrier birds.
Donavan had arrived at dusk to find two men he was only vaguely acquainted with stationed at the outpost. One of the soldiers had fed and watered his animal while the other provided him with a hot meal and rations for the journey up the mountain. A relatively comfortable cot was provided with the news that he should prepare to leave at first light in order to avoid the worst weather higher up.
Donavan was familiar with Thorn Mountain’s weather patterns, but he took the advice just the same. He was tired and excused himself from the company of the fire. It would be a long four hour climb along the path to the next cave outpost where he would leave his horse. From there, the steps and terraces would be his companions, winding in and out of the mountain for another hour as he made his way higher and higher toward the castle itself.
He lay down on the cot, covering himself with the fur blanket the soldiers had provided him against the chill air. The cave was comfortable enough—certainly it was far better than the makeshift camps he’d established along his journey. His sleep was fitful at best, as it had been for the past week. Each night he had seen the terrible faces of the death walkers coming after him. Each night he sought his Lord in prayer in order to escape the visions.
Donavan was very familiar with the signs of the Elithias’ coming—he knew the prophecies well. It would get much worse before the end of the Serpent Kings came. Still, it was comforting to be home. Tomorrow he would see his master, Ezekiah, again. Things would be better if only for like minded company to share these experiences with. He prayed a simple but sincere prayer for a night of sound uneventful sleep. Very soon he was enjoying it.
The next morning Donavan got an early start, not even waiting for first light. His horse seemed eager enough after the best meal and rest it had enjoyed all week. It wasn’t a quick ride, but a steady unrelenting ascent winding back and forth up the southern face of Thorn Mountain. The hours passed grudgingly with only ice and snow and rock to see, but at least their people kept the path clear with generous salting.
Almost like clockwork, Donavan arrived at the stalls approximately four hours later. Here another cave had been designated to house all of the horses used by the castle’s inhabitants, as well as cattle; anything too big to make the journey through the stairs and terraces remained here. Donavan left the horse with a better home than it would have known back in the dead village they’d escaped from, then gathered his things and began the rest of the climb.
Everyone living in the castle at Thorn Mountain had to have strong legs and a good healthy heart which wasn’t uncommon during the Reign of Peace since long lives of hundreds of years were normal and serious disease a rare event. The stairs wound their way within the mountain, exiting every ten minutes or so where an outer terrace had been carved in the side o
f the mountain. From there, the stairs took up again, making for a steady climb without the need to feel totally isolated within solid rock the entire way.
Donavan had lived here in Thorn Mountain for nearly twenty years now as a disciple of Ezekiah, but he had never met anyone among the many who dwelt here that had been a part of the massive building project necessary to create what they now enjoyed. According to Ezekiah, it had been his father and those from the former world who had designed and built the fortress which over a thousand people now called home. These elders had been killed over time by the dragons and their assassins in an ongoing conflict seldom observed by society at large.
Ezekiah had taken over after his father’s passing nearly one hundred years ago, winning disciples unto Elithias and creating a militia of the faithful ready to fight should the need arise. While Thorn Mountain still housed the primary population of Elithias’ followers, there were many others spread throughout the kingdom of the Serpent Kings—gathering information for their cause, witnessing of the prophecies and training those who were willing to believe.
By the time another hour had passed, Donavan had ascended the final step delivering him onto the vast stone courtyard preceding the main entrance. The castle itself had been carved within the mountain with only the very front façade visible, like an ornate wall towering above him now.
Within the courtyard, children played, throwing snow among other activities despite the frigid wind. It was the only outside activity available for them on this side of the mountain, so only the most inclement weather kept them away. Nearly a dozen fire pits acted as warm oases against the cold; their smoke indistinguishable from the cloud of snow blowing all around the mountain.
Not that anyone was actually hiding here. Thorn Mountain’s castle city, with its population of Elithias’ disciples, was anything but a secret. The dragons certainly knew about it as well as anyone who had ever heard of Ezekiah and his Resistance. No doubt the Serpent Kings would have liked to destroy it from the face of the earth; but they lacked the ability.