Dragon Choir

by Benjamin Descovich

  Pelegrin pitched the oars in deep strokes and marvelled at the strength in his arms and back. The boat charged through the water, its bow cutting an easy path to the distant shore. Uighara rested at the stern, dipping his hand in the water as they went, praying with a rhythm that spurred Pelegrin on. A swathe of silver scales bobbed in their wake.

  By the time the boat pulled in to the docks of Rum Hill, dusk crept upon the sky. They disembarked while the western sky burned with the dying glow of the setting sun, shedding enough light to witness the ruins of his finest marines strewn across the docks. The rebel forces and the drakkin were no longer present. The survivors dragged bodies into neat rows where the day’s heat had already ripened the dead enough for summer flies to take upon them.

  Pelegrin’s strength faded; this defeat was avoidable. Complacency had determined the outcome, not numbers, skill, weaponry, or any other factor. He might have let the rats into the hold, but he would sink every last ship they took before they had a chance to ambush him again. Determination lit a fire in his belly, melting away the leaden cloak of his failure. The Commodore hooked on his sabre and scabbard, bolstered by its weight at his side once again. Iron in hand, he’d cast the rebels to all the hells. They’d feel the full wrath of the Lord’s armada.

  Pelegrin adjusted his uniform; it was in a sad state with buttons missing and bloodstains. He neatened it and rolled back his shoulders, lifting his chin. With a purpose in his stride he approached a marine kneeling beside a fallen comrade in the assembly of bodies. His uniform was ragged and a long cut had torn through his padded jack leaving a weeping open gash.

  “Who is in command?” asked Pelegrin.

  “Sir!” The marine rose to attention, after a moment of recognition. “Nobody, sir!”

  “Nobody?”

  “The rebels took all our officers, sir. Left us alone if we gave up our weapons and surrendered.”

  “Is this all that remain?”

  “Some have left with the enemy, sir. Most of us who can walk are trying to lay the dead ready for the Priest’s words this evenin’.”

  “Brother Demnirin?” asked Uighara.

  “Yeah, that’s him.”

  Uighara dug into one of his pouches, paying more attention to the line of dead bodies than the marine. “Is he at the temple?”

  “Think so, he’s been tending the wounded.”

  Uighara marked the four points of the black star in the air. “Go with the Lord’s blessings, my child.”

  The marine bowed to Uighara. “Thank you, Brother.” He saluted Pelegrin, stretching his chest wound in the process, wincing with pain.

  Uighara led the way to the temple, the streets a hazard of filth and sin. The Good Lord’s children made their way to the temple while the lost and damned gathered to drink and gamble, likely accomplishing worse debauchery as the dark night took the town.

  Folk of both faith and sin made way, for their mission was blessed by the Lord. No one would stand in their path. Pelegrin saw it in the wide eyes of the people staring at them. The Lord was calling. He would deliver them to certain victory.

  The temple was a humble stone structure at the top of a small rise. It faced the ramshackle town of Rum Hill with a stoic, gumption. The gable roof pointed to the heavens like an arrowhead, reminding the town that the Lord was watching. Heavy studded timber doors hung open for the evening service, welcoming townsfolk to pray.

  Pelegrin took the temple steps in long strides past the faithful, lining up to cleanse their grubby hands and dirty faces. Pelegrin’s own hands were filthy with the mistakes of the long day. Uighara motioned to an acolyte who brought them black glazed bowls filled with blessed water. As they knelt and cleansed their hands then faces, they prayed together, Uighara’s dark accent and rough tones abrasive against Pelegrin’s refined, precise voice. “Wash the sins of the day, O’Lord, take my hands. See the face of my faith, O’Lord, take my love.”

  The acolyte removed the cleansing bowls and emptied the tainted water down a sluice where it drained into a fishpond, teeming with silver perch and lilies, closing their petals for the night. With a bow to Uighara, the acolyte ushered them through the arch and into the temple.

  In front of the altar knelt a man, his head dipped in prayer. Uighara strode down the aisle, past odd looks and sharp whispers. Pelegrin was uncomfortable in temples at the best of time and as he followed Uighara through the nave, he sensed the eyes of the congregation like they were the Lord’s jury, critiquing his very soul. This was not the best day to receive such a review. Everyone in town would know by now. All hells knew, word of his defeat would be half way to Jando. The bright new Commodore lost his fleet to the rebels. There was a light tittering in the wings, he was a laughing stock. They wouldn’t be laughing when he paraded the Scrambletoes to the chopping block; he’d be the pride of the Lord’s chosen.

  The priest finished his prayer with hands to the heavens and rose before the altar, turning just as Uighara and Pelegrin came to the crossing.

  “Brother Uighara! Commodore! The Lord has blessed us.”

  “Brother Demnirin,” Uighara ever so slightly inclined his head.

  Demnirin came to Uighara and kissed his outstretched hand before marking the sign of the black star. “I was just praying for your souls and the Good Lord sends you here. I was told they took all of the officers, how did you escape? Do you require healing?”

  “Calm yourself, Brother, we have little time and need to return to the High Temple.”

  “We have only a mule, though there are two rounseys for sale with old man Carter. I’ll send fo—”

  “Take me to your temple stone,” interrupted Uighara.

  “Of course, but shouldn’t I send for the horses first?”

  “They won’t be needed,” Uighara’s harsh tone rasped at Demnirin’s good intentions.

  “Follow me then,” Demnirin took them up a step and behind the pulpit. A circular tile mosaic, rich in detail, covered the stone floor. Black, blue and purple tiles marked out the points of the black star. At one point stood the altar, the opposite point the pulpit. The two remaining points led to stairs on either side for the congregation’s procession each service. A sea of green and yellow tiles surrounded the star and the temple stone lay in the very centre, polished by an age of hands seeking blessings of the Lord. The idea of that very stone once gracing the most hallowed temple in his ancestral homeland filled the Commodore with awe. Saint Jan took the temple stones in the great exodus, carrying them across raging oceans, battling demons and tempests, guided by the black star and his faith in the Lord. The stones were a foundation that connected the faithful to their roots and from each stone the chosen would build a new temple for the Lord.

  Kneeling to the temple stone, Uighara emptied the meagre contents of a pouch into his palm and closed his hand into a fist, muttering in a low voice. Demnirin’s welcome faded as he watched Uighara dwell on the stone, sorting through the ritual components.

  “Brother Uighara, we must go now,” Pelegrin gave Demnirin an apologetic shrug. “We waste time here and the good priest needs to begin the evening prayers.”

  “I will lead the congregation this evening,” said Uighara, rising to his feet, returning something to a pouch. “I will redeem their sins for the Lord.”

  “If that is your wish,” Demnirin’s joy at their arrival diminished with each word from Uighara. “Though if you are in a hurry to get to Jando, it would be easier if I led the—”

  “Gather your congregation, Brother Demnirin.”

  Demnirin hesitated, watching Uighara untying another pouch. “What are you planning? These are good people.”

  “Then there is nothing to worry about, Brother.” Uighara’s greased smile polluted his face. “Now make haste, the dark star is risen.”

  Demnirin hurried off to help the acolytes cleanse the last of the congregation before the service. Uighara emptied reddish glittering sand from his pouch, making a circle around the temple stone. He deftly made a
n arcane symbol at each point of the black star and muttered to himself while he checked over his work.

  “Stand on the temple stone, Commodore. One foot on it and one foot off, but not outside the circle.”

  “Why are we wasting our time here for an elaborate blessing?”

  “Because the Lord wants you to command the armada,” Uighara licked his thumb and dipped it into his pouch. It came out glimmering red and he dabbed it on Pelegrin’s forehead, his chin and each cheek, muttering as he did so. He swapped hands and repeated the pattern on his own face. “Do you want to command the armada, Commodore? Do you want to avenge the souls of your men?”

  “Yes, but how—”

  “Do as I say,”

  Pelegrin did so, careful not to step on any of the powder. He didn’t want to foul the blessing. The armada, under his command! By the Lord if he convinced his father of the threat it might just be possible. He might have lost a few ships, but that was a small price to pay for finding the Scrambletoes and crushing the rebellion. “Admiral,” said Pelegrin, enjoying the sound as it rolled off his tongue.

  Uighara took a tiny white component from a pouch, a tooth perhaps, and bent his head in prayer. He brought his hands together, elbows on the pulpit, forehead resting on his interlocked fingers. A warm glow emanated from his praying hands and grew to encompass him in a golden aura.

  Pelegrin waited in position to receive the redeemer’s blessing. He’d been warned by his father not to trust him; though the same was said about all converts. Pelegrin trusted the High Priest and he said that any poacher outcast from Calimska was the Lord’s gift to Jando. That sat fine with him. Uighara might be an arse of a man sometimes, but he was raised in Calimska. What more could be expected? Uighara had found his faith; devout to the Lord and loyal to the High Priest, so devout that Pelegrin’s own faith was pale in comparison.

  Leaving that young acolyte behind was a good thing too. Now, Uighara was focused on the task at hand. Pelegrin knew redeemers had strange secret rituals to train acolytes in the ways of the Lord’s gift, but there was something unusual with that one. The boy never said a word and shadowed Uighara everywhere. There was a determination in Uighara’s eye since their capture, a fresh drive. Things were falling together. Soon, Jando would have another victory. They had faith, they had the armada, and they had the location of the outlaws that plagued the chosen.

  Uighara finished his prayer and rang a small bell on the pulpit. His aura radiated warmth around his white robes. He was the sun breaching the clouds. As he spoke, the congregation hushed their amazed whispers and listened to his reassuring voice. His usual voice of gravel and tar was reborn in velvet, deep and consuming.

  “The Lord welcomes you! Gather unto our Lord!”

  “We hear the word of the Lord,” responded the congregation in unison.

  “Brother Demnirin, your good priest, prayed for me this eve. He also prayed for the son of the Lord’s High Admiral, Commodore Pelegrin. The power of his prayer so great, so endowed with faith, it summoned us here this night. Here we stand blessed by the Lord, alive, ready to preach the word, to redeem the sins of the land, to cast the blight off with blade and faith.”

  The congregation sounded its agreement, calling out ‘blessed be’ and ‘preach the word’.

  “The Lord has blessed me with a gift, the gift of redemption in his almighty name. I was born of sin and he raised me up. He showed me truth: Nothing for nothing, dear folk of faith; sin for salvation. I sacrificed my sins and he bore me up with a commanding faith, a sanctified purpose and a deep and pure urgency for his love. Do you feel that love? Do you have that purpose, that faith?”

  The congregation called their assent. Pelegrin knew his love for the Lord and called with them, his heart pounding with faith. “I feel it!”

  “Good! The Lord knows your love and he has brought us here together today to witness a miracle. An angel of the Lord has spoken to me! He gave me a message and a mission. The Lord is coming. He will return and grant his faithful life eternal. Let the black star swallow our sin and purify our soul!”

  “Praise be!” called the congregation.

  “Do you have sins in your hearts you want gone?”

  “Yes!”

  “Do you have doubts you want to cast aside?”

  “Yes!”

  “Then you must give of yourself unto the Lord!”

  The aura around Uighara pulsed with the energy of the congregation. The white of his robes shone upon the joyful faces of the congregation, raising their hands to heaven, asking for their sins to be redeemed and replaced with the Lord’s love. Demnirin stood at the back of the pews, his face dour, unengaged by the blessed energy that buzzed in the air. He was a black rock and Uighara a diamond. Pelegrin forgave Brother Demnirin his jealousy. Joy wrapped its splendour around him and nothing else mattered.

  “Take each other’s hands, unburden your hearts, give yourself to the Lord. Let him have your naked souls, goodness and evil.”

  The congregation took the hands of their neighbour and beamed their joy to Uighara, elated by every word, ecstatic by his presence.

  “I feel your faith this day, you feel it too, rising up to heaven’s blessed halls, the seat of our Lord on high. Your faith knows heaven, but I know sin clings on, weighs you down, holds you back from life eternal. It mires your immortal souls in filth, dragging you under. The demons of the five hells whisper through the earth, lead you into temptation. Charlatans and shamans crush your faith until you are dead and nothing but dirt in the gardens of the false gods. Sorcerous powers dwell at your doorstep, speaking in tongues of demons, rejecting the Lord’s gift of redemption.”

  “It is time to root out that sin. Reach deep inside your souls and dig that sin out, feel it rise up, surrender it to the Lord. Redemption is yours!”

  Uighara crossed to the aisle between the pews and took the outstretched hands offered on each side of the front row. They cried out in ecstasy. Honey light spread from Uighara to each man and woman, hand to hand, trickling to the end of each pew. Their faces raised to the rafters, mouths open, gasping in thrall. Uighara’s own light grew around him with each soul he connected.

  He withdrew his hand from the first row and they collapsed forward onto the floor, rag dolls left for a newer toy. Moving forward Uighara took the hands of the second row; they arched their backs, lips shuddering as the honey light oozed across them. Uighara’s light swelled, pulsating with the beat of many hearts.

  Pelegrin called out. “There’s something wrong!” But, Uighara did not hear. The euphoric calls from the congregation drowned him out. He had to get the fervent priest’s attention, the exhortation was going horribly wrong. If he left the temple stone, his blessing might break. He had to have faith; Uighara knew what he was doing. The fallen congregation were just exhausted from their glimpse of the Lord’s power—that was all.

  Demnirin was not standing at the back any longer. He strode towards Uighara touching the outstretched hands of his congregation. His black robes deepening to a rift of darkness compared to the blazing glory of Uighara. Another row fell with Uighara’s redemption, slumping across each other, their heads lolling, faces devoid of expression.

  Demnirin’s voice boomed down the aisle. “By the grace of our Lord, cease this madness!”

  Uighara’s laughter rumbled and fell like an avalanche, shaking the temple. “I will not cease until the Lord’s return has cleansed this land.”

  “Leave my people! Take no more for your schemes!”

  Uighara laughed again, plaster and dust fell from the ceiling as he took the hands of the next row. “The pure of faith never need fear the hand of redemption. The Lord be their judge this day. Not you, Brother.”

  “Nor you!” cried Demnirin, grasping his hands forward, then thrusting them apart. The pews skittered to the edge of the temple, taking Demnirin’s congregation out of Uighara’s reach. The townsfolk not yet touched by Uighara panicked, fallen men and women lay still on the temple floor.


  Pelegrin was at a loss. What could he do? He had to act, but if he moved he’d ruin the blessing and hinder the Lord’s holy work.

  Uighara flicked his palm like he was swatting a fly. Demnirin flew across the temple, crashing into the stone wall and falling to the floor. Uighara chuckled, and walked back to Pelegrin, each step filling Pelegrin with doubt. This was no blessing, how could the Lord abide his chosen fighting each other?

  Uighara stepped into the circle, placing one foot on the temple stone and the other to the side. The redeemer’s aura enveloped him and glaring white robes obliterated all doubt. Here was the Lord’s blessed servant. Demnirin was just another corruption, another border town priest strayed from the true path.

  “Take my hand,” said Uighara, his voice smooth and warm like dark rum.

  Pelegrin took it.

  Uighara spoke a word of power and everything folded upon itself.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Sunset

  Dusk eased upon the sea. Minni leaned on the gunwale of the forecastle, watching the sun’s fire set to the west. The Great Dividing Range painted a black fence against a golden horizon and peach lit clouds drifted over the wild coast. Jando had no hold this far north, the wilderness wrestled with its own demons, untamed by men, alive with primal magic.

  “I got us the last of that soup. Here take this.” Elrin handed Minni a warm tankard. “I was talking with Kobb’s cook, he’s Calimskan. Of all things, he apprenticed with the chef that served the Order of Calim.”

  “He must have shown talent,” said Minni, glad for Elrin’s company.

  “The chef kept him down, never let him make journeyman. After two years being held back he takes off in the night with his master’s recipes. Kobb found him in Jando working the docks.”

  “And now we reap the benefits.” Minni sipped at the seafood soup, enjoying the hit of pepper, cushioned with cinnamon and spiked with citrus tang.

  “The crew love him, don’t they.”

  “Won your heart too, has he? Don’t trust him, Elrin. Kobb only granted us what we asked because he was already going to do it. You saw what he gave Pelegrin and Uighara.”