Complete In the Service of Dragons

by William Robert Stanek

  A small group of riders circled back to those who had stopped their charge dead still and looked on in awe. Two flag bearers rode to left and right of this small group, carrying the spectacular gold and silver banner of freedom whose symbols were oddly enough the scimitar, the eclipsed moon and the free man’s crest.

  “Greetings, on this deceitful night,” yelled a rider who approached, “I am Lord Geoffrey of—”

  “—Solntse. But how did you know?” interrupted Lord Serant.

  “I had a strange visitor a number of day’s ago. He told me the waxing gibbous moon brought ill tidings and to rouse our garrison and set wings to our feet. ‘Reach Imtal before the full moon wanes,’ he beckoned, and thankfully I heeded his words.”

  “You don’t know how indebted to you I am, good sir. I thank you and all the free men who have come to our aid!” yelled Lord Serant.

  For a moment the two men looked silently about the square. Many expressions crossed their faces as the soldiers of Solntse and those few of the Imtal palace and garrison that lived scoured the square in search of survivors, both friend and foe alike. The scene was one of death and destruction. The dark warriors had left their mark deep on the kingdom. The blood of many had flowed through the central square. Many brave soldiers had lost their lives. Those who had insisted that the strife would never reach them were quite mistaken.

  In the days to come they would scour the countryside in search of those responsible for collaborating with the enemy. The guilty would be found and dutifully punished, and then they would turn their anger outward upon the leaders of the insurgency. Lord Serant had little doubt that this search would lead them south, but first reparations must be made. Imtal garrison must be rebuilt, a new palace guard would have to be selected, and the heir to the throne must return.

  

  Watching the proceedings from the glowing orb in his hand, Xith was pleased. The company he had sought to build was together and Great Kingdom had once again survived the test of the darkness. Yet Xith knew all too well that notions of good and evil were too simple an interpretation for what was taking place. The cosmos didn’t understand the concepts of good and evil—to the cosmos there was only the cycle of renewal. When one age ended, another began. That is the way of it and it did not matter whether that age was good or evil in someone’s eyes for there was always another interpretation, always another point of view.

  Satisfied, Xith focused his thoughts on the warrior elf and the kingdom prince and their faces appeared in the glowing orb. He blew onto the orb, casting wind to the sails of their ships and taking them easily past the dark storm that approached. He wondered then what would happen to them when they discovered that everything they thought they knew was a lie and that only in the lies would they find the truth. This saddened him and this sadness turned his thoughts to Vilmos, the boy the company was built to protect. The boy who would become the one against which the forces of darkness and light would align and then single-mindedly seek to destroy.

  Chapter Seven

  “Jasmine, please don’t leave us,” cried Sister Midori-shi. She looked to Sister Catrin-ni, who knelt on the other side of Jasmine. The two stared deep into Jasmine’s eyes. They could see that her spirit yearned to be gathered by the Great-Father.

  For a moment they both looked around the square. The scene was one of death and destruction. The assassins had left their mark deep on the kingdom. The blood of many had flowed through the central square. Many brave soldiers had lost their lives this eve.

  All would remember this day. Those who had insisted that the war would never reach them were quite mistaken. The distant war in the Eastern Reaches had been brought to them. The kingdom had been plunged into the midst of a war they were unprepared to fight.

  The peace that had existed for centuries was completely gone. Their king had been assassinated. A princess of the kingdom had been kidnapped. But worst of all, an army of assassins had invaded their homeland. They had infiltrated all the way into the vary heart of the kingdom, the capital city of Imtal.

  Father Francis returned after checking on the others of the royal party. The guards were clearing the wounded and the dead from the field. A strange thought was clawing at the back of his mind. An emotion before unknown to him permeated his other thoughts. He tried to meditate them from his mind, but they remained.

  He looked to the dark-haired woman across the square and for the first time the impact of her beauty fell upon him. He that was of the Great-Father and her that had given herself to the Mother-Earth. The thoughts in his mind would not be denied acknowledgment. They demanded to be allowed existence. He could suppress them no more. He had shared the union of the Mother and Father with this one. The natural love of the two for each other and for all things was inside him.

  He wondered if she, too, felt the pull of emotions upon her. He wished to go to her, but he could not. He had acknowledged his feelings for her, yet they could not be allowed. He decided he would return to the palace with Lord Serant and Princess Calyin, and leave the past behind him.

  Lord Serant defiantly looked around the square. He still clutched the hilt of his sword tightly. His beloved Calyin stood at his side. She reached out and took his free hand in hers. She tightly clasped it. Finally, he sheathed his weapon and the two embraced.

  Tears flowed down Calyin’s cheeks. Lord Serant gazed into her eyes and wiped her tears away. “I will forever protect you, my love,” he whispered into her ear.

  His eyes saw the body of Chancellor Yi, which lay behind Calyin. Lord Serant had found the chancellor to be most foolish. Nothing like this carnage could have happened in the Western Territories. The lands might be barbaric, but he was safe there. No one could have so easily entered his capital and attempted to slay him.

  Slowly the square emptied of all save three who refused to leave. Captain Brodst continued to attempt to persuade them to leave though they would not listen. He understood why they would not leave. He knew the beliefs of the priestesses of the Mother.

  If it were Jasmine’s time to pass, she would. Nothing they could do would save her. Now, he stood patiently watching them. He ordered more patrols to search the city street by street. The gates of the city were sealed, so Princess Adrina must still be inside the city, and if they searched long enough, they would have to find her.

  Midori and Catrin joined hands with Jasmine; one last time the three would become one. The two could feel the yearning of Jasmine’s spirit. They knew the Mother called her to join with her. At the last all were gathered home by the Father save the priestesses of the Mother. They alone were given the privilege; their devotion had allowed them to join with the Mother.

  The connection was complete. They could feel the Father watch them from above. They sensed a smile on his lips. A blazing light filled the center of their thoughts. They knew this was the presence of the Mother, strong within them.

  Captain Brodst watched the scene. He was greatly intrigued by it. He did not know whether he should continue to watch or not. He knew very well the secrecy of the priestesses. He knew no male had ever witnessed what was now taking place before him.

  This was more than the passing of the first of the Mother; it was also a ritual of choosing. One of the other two would become the first, and the other would become the second. As he watched, joy filled his mind such as he had never known but the joy soon became so overpowering that it overwhelmed him. He could watch no more; he could not walk away either. He was held transfixed and looked out at the world around him as if from afar.

  In silence the three priestesses were connected. The image of the Mother grew clearer in their minds. Slowly a face defined itself. This was the face of the Mother; it spoke of power and beauty, but more than that a feeling of all encompassing love flowed from that image.

  Energy surged rapidly through them. A white light emanated from them and swirled rapidly around them. Jasmine’s body began to shimmer and then faded out of existence. All of her thoughts became
joined with Catrin’s and Midori’s. Her thoughts became their memories, and thus Jasmine’s spirit passed to rest with the Mother.

  They could see Jasmine make the journey to the Mother’s garden. A feeling of immense happiness flowed to them. They could also sense the other priestesses who rested there welcoming Jasmine home.

  As the Mother bade them farewell, they begged her to stay and cried out into the night. “Wait,” they implored, “Wait!” “Which of us is to be the first?” they asked. But the Mother did not heed their words and soon it was just the two of them, facing each other, hands joined. Not far off stood the transfixed captain. He could no more look away than a fly could escape a spider’s web.

  An old memory came to Catrin and Midori, and with it realization of what they must do and how the ceremony of choosing must begin. They set their minds to the struggle of will quickly losing track of time and space. Now, they existed solely in a whirlwind of thought and will. Both stretched out from their center with every ounce of their being to gather the flow to them, but both encountered vast difficulties.

  Indefinite thoughts spun into their consciousness. Some were pieces of past experiences, some of the present, and all were intertwined with the future. The normal order of passage said Sister Catrin should become the first, as she was now the second, but the final test of servitude was still to be passed. The victor would become as one with the Mother.

  Slowly the thoughts began to define. They became single thoughts, forming a multitude of future paths, turning points in the future. The two were forced to make decisions. They must choose the correct path to follow from the many. The choosing went on and on until it seemed it would never end.

  Midori screamed in agony, collapsed. Captain Brodst was startled and looked to where Midori was sprawled, motionless on the ground. He tried to run to her aid, but could not. He could only watch in horror.

  He could see the pain clearly etched on her face. His heart pounded rapidly as he was drawn to watch. He could not take his eyes off her face. He felt complete sympathy for her, utter empathy if that were possible. In that moment he longed for the Delinna Alder he had once known and in that moment he envied no man more than Father Francis. For Father Francis had shared with her a closeness which was denied to him, a oneness which he would never know again. His heart felt the wound of old as raw as it ever was.

  As he watched, the image of Catrin appeared near Midori. Catrin quickly knelt beside her friend. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks. “I have failed you,” she whispered. The low sound seemed to cut into the silence and echoed throughout the square.

  The image faded again. Now, the two sat across from each other, hands joined once more. Without a sound, they rose and walked towards the captain. The three then departed the square, each thinking different thoughts as they did so. Captain Brodst was eager to return to the palace to interrogate the enemy leader, Lord Konstantin. Other thoughts tempted his mind. They flowed through and permeated his conscious. He would willingly greet this war as a chance to prove his military prowess and the strength of the kingdom, yet at the same time he regretted its coming to the fore, the countless unnecessary deaths of the innocent caught in the struggle for power.

  Sister Catrin thought about the trial. It had torn her mind asunder and shattered her ego. She had taken the wrong path. She had chosen herself over the welfare of her companion. She had failed the test.

  Midori looked back with retrospect on her life. She understood how she had become first priestess although her conscience could not accept it. She still saw the impetuous child within her. “Why me? I am not worthy—what of the second, or of the third?” she whispered quietly to herself. “Accept the gift my child. The choice was correctly made,” said a voice echoing in her mind. Midori clearly recognized the voice; it was a voice from her childhood. “Mother!” cried Midori. “Good-bye, my child—” said the voice as it faded.

  A city patrol intercepted the trio on the way to the palace and escorted them the remainder of the trek. Captain Brodst gave the guardsmen a black stare, but accepted their escort. The palace was bustling with activity when they returned. Captain Brodst was wondering if the entire city garrison were inside the palace when Lord Serant approached him.

  “Captain Brodst, it is good you are all safe. Come, Princess Calyin and Father Francis await your arrival in the council room.”

  The two began to speed toward the council chambers with Midori and Catrin closely following. They found Princess Calyin, Father Francis, Chancellor Volnej and Keeper Q’yer seated and waiting for them. Princess Calyin sat at the head of the table, with a vacant place to her right, and Chancellor Volnej seated himself to her immediate left, in the seat of honor reserved for the first adviser. Father Francis was seated to Volnej’s left with Keeper Q’yer directly across from him. Lord Serant took his place to the right of Calyin and the two priestesses took their appropriate places as guests near the opposite end of the table.

  Calyin signaled for the guards to seal the door; then the meeting started. Calyin greeted each of those present in an abrupt manner, cutting quickly to the point of their presence here, which was obvious to those present but must be stated for the record. The hall seemed strangely empty compared to the great meetings she remembered from her youth.

  Captain Brodst nervously searched the hilt of his sword beneath the table, his eyes never leaving the two seats at the head of the table, those reserved for the king and queen. The second head chair had always been placed away from the table as a remembrance of honor. King Andrew had ruled alone since his queen had died. The captain was not pleased to see it placed back at the table. Princess Calyin with Lord Serant in the king’s place now occupied the chair.

  “This is an outrage! How dare you?” shouted Captain Brodst as he jumped up and drew his blade. Lord Serant’s response was immediate; he likewise drew his sword and launched himself at the captain. Calyin was also quick to her feet and placed herself between them. “Stop!” she yelled with all the strength of her voice. “You both will seat yourselves now!” she commanded, her anger lividly displayed on her fiery red face and glaring ice-cold eyes. The two stood defiantly in the face of her fury, which was quite difficult considering Calyin’s persuasive glare, a trait that ran in the family. “Please,” she pleaded. “We will get nowhere like this. The safety and unity of the kingdom are at stake here. We cannot fight among ourselves.”

  “Please!” she begged again.

  Lord Serant held his blade firm. He would not be the first to back down. Hesitantly, Captain Brodst seated himself back at the table, and then Lord Serant did the same. Princess Calyin calmly began, “Captain Brodst, please hear me out. Yes, my lord and husband is seated in the king’s position and I am properly seated to his left. It is for the good of the kingdom that we assume these positions. The one thing we do not need now is division. We need clear unity. I am the next in the royal line and as my husband, Lord Serant will rule by my side. When King Andrew died, the Council of Keepers along with the High Council decided this. It is as it must be until Prince Valam’s return. The Kingdom will stand united!” Calyin spoke those words not only for Captain Brodst’s benefit, but also for all those in the room. Lord Serant had been the only one to come to her aid; the others had remained seated, indifferent or unsure, themselves, what was happening.

  “We do not need civil war within the kingdom itself! We need to wait and watch until we are sure where the conspiracy leads us. We must try to stop it before it gets out of hand. To do that we must show that order, not chaos rules! Together we have a chance!”

  Chapter Eight

  “Ne mozhet byt’! Ehto Brat-Seth i Kapitan-Cagan! Kak ehto?”

  The words flowed into Seth’s mind in the way of the brotherhood. They sounded strangely foreign to him. He had been in the world of men for too long. It took him a moment to re-orient his thoughts; then he understood the meaning of the words.

  Subconsciously he thought back to another time and a far distant pl
ace. Pictures of the council of the Great Kingdom filled his mind. It was in this room that he had lost his Galan forever. Now, she was just an image in his mind. He had loved her even though it was against the general rules of the brotherhood. But they could never be together; fate had divided them.

  The elder one ran to Seth and embraced him. It took a moment for Seth to gather his thoughts. He stared deeply into the eyes of his old friend. “Ehto ty?” said Brother Liyan with his mind.

  “Dejstvitel’no v camom dele. Ehto menya, Brat-Liyan,” Seth answered aloud in the words of his kind. He then added in the words of men, “Yes, it is truly I, Brother Liyan!”

  Brother Liyan didn’t understand; why had Seth spoken aloud? Most of the brotherhood spoke with their minds. Only a select few spoke aloud. They were the ones who refused the gifts of the Great-Father. In this way, they sought to increase their suffering in this world. When you spoke aloud it set you apart from everyone; your mind was open and free, revealing the cause of your shame. Liyan dwelled so much on the fact that Seth had spoken aloud he had not even heard Seth’s words, words in the tongue of man.