The Serpent and the Unicorn: Book I and II

by Susan Skylark

  Chapter 1

  The rider approached cautiously along the trail; the mare caught some scent on the wind and froze. An instant later, an arrow buried itself firmly in the tree in front of which she would have been standing had she kept moving. She reared and began to backup, but before she had gone another step, an arrow buzzed through the air and embedded itself in her master’s chest. He was dead before he hit the ground; the mare snorted and fled into the moonlit woods. The archer waited a long time before approaching his prey. The escape of the unicorn was irritating but not important; they were a nuisance, but without her rider, she would not be bothering him again. Sometimes the beasts turned and defended or avenged their fallen masters, but this one must have sensed her rider’s demise and chose not to risk her life in a useless pursuit. A stallion would probably have stayed to fight. He carefully approached the fallen rider but he had nothing to fear, for the man was dead and already starting to stiffen. He drug the body off the path and went about the tedious business of hiding it. The man had been interfering with his assignment and had to be removed, but only if it could be done secretly.

  The mare stood outside the gates of Astoria blowing hard, and the Lady was summoned immediately. The empty saddle clung forlornly to the mare’s back at an odd angle, but there was no sign of her rider, at least this time they knew something had happened. This was the third agent stationed in the East that the Brethren to go missing in the last six months. The other two had simply disappeared, along with their unicorns. The Lady patted the grieving creature’s neck in understanding; she hated losing her people too, but it was a risk they all took in service to the Master. Her message delivered, the unicorn left the city and retreated into the depths of the forest to mourn her loss. When she was ready she might again bear another rider, if she could overcome her grief and risk having it happen again. The rumors from the Eastern Realms were disturbing at best, and the loss of three of her field agents stationed there meant something was dreadfully amiss. She suspected the Brotherhood of the Serpent was behind it, what exactly, she was not sure but she felt they had a hand in the rumors and were the reason three of her men now lay in unmarked graves. She turned quickly on her heel and returned to the castle. She had much to think about.

  Tristan cantered his mount along the edge of the field and watched his men go through various drills and maneuvers. The last six months he had been pushing them hard. Once, overseeing the training of eight men would have made him cringe, but now it was routine. With so many new recruits, the need for competent teaching and leadership was desperate, especially since the Lady opened the Brethren’s training program to members of the Order of the Unicorn. While many of the students from the Order did eventually take their Oath and become part of the Brethren, the influx of students stretched the Brethren’s resources more than they had anticipated.

  The other concern that many of the Brethren quietly held was that the line between the Brethren and the Order as individual entities was becoming blurred in the minds of the common people and nobles alike. The line was quite clear to those on the inside, but those with only a casual acquaintance with either group often thought them one and the same. This meant that if the Order said something, it could be construed as having come from the Brethren and if one was not intimately acquainted with the doctrines of both it could become quite confusing. This was part of the problem in the East, people were hearing many things from many sources and no one was sure what to believe so each person simply chose what they liked best and considered that the truth. While the Brethren were bound by their Oath to the Master and His Truth, the Order could say whatever they wished whenever they wanted.

  Tristan’s men finished their assigned drill as he rode up and congratulated them on their flawless performance. They rode back towards the city, ready for the evening meal and pleased with the day’s work. Tristan was hungry, but he was far more anxious for the company of his wife. Before he had married, he had never felt uncomfortable spending most of his time alone or in the presence of other men. Now he felt somehow deprived or neglected when forced to spend time away from his wife; there was just something…comforting…about your wife’s presence, he had never before realized what he was missing! They arrived in the courtyard of the castle and sent the unicorns off to graze or whatever it is they do in their free hours. The men headed in for supper, but Tristan was stopped by a servant and told the Lady requested his presence immediately. He set out at once to find the Lady and was admitted to the small audience chamber in which she sat. He made his bows and saw at once that his wife and Pallin were also present. They all exchanged warm smiles. He took the seat the Lady indicated and gave her his full attention.

  She began, “Tristan, I have desperate need of you in the field. We have lost three agents assigned to the Eastern Realms within the last six months; rumors flow abundantly from those countries saying truth is irrelevant and the Brethren’s message is just as good (or bad) as any other, including that preached by the proselytes of Kerfluffle the Ogre!”

  A storm of emotions played across Tristan’s face as he assimilated her words. Sadness at the thought of missing his wife while on a field assignment, grief over his lost colleagues, curiosity over the strange rumors, excitement at doing something besides drilling new recruits, and amusement at mention of the Ogre, all warred for dominance on his face and in his mind. He finally calmed the maelstrom and looked seriously at the Lady and said, “what would you have of me?”

  She smiled warmly at him, “always ready to serve, however impossible the task I set you. You, Arora, and Pallin will ride East to sort out whatever is happening to the Brethren and Truth itself.” Tristan’s heart leapt for joy at the thought of traveling with his wife again; he also looked forward to Pallin’s company. She continued, “Arora is to be the new bard in the court of Arca, (the capital city of the country of the same name), and Pallin is to travel about as an official representative of the Brethren seeking what information he can find and correcting any untruths he encounters. You are to travel about as well, though not as an official member of the Brethren. You may need to infiltrate the darker and seedier places that Pallin cannot go as a recognized member of the Brethren. You three are to work together to figure out who is responsible for our disappearing colleagues and this swarm of half-truths I am hearing from those lands. Arora will be our unofficial eyes amongst the nobility and the court; Pallin will be our official eyes elsewhere, and Tristan will be our secret eyes where the others cannot go. You will each be in constant danger of the dire fate met by my three missing servants. Do you understand and accept this mission?” All three nodded their understanding and acceptance. She looked fondly at the three of them and said, “then may the Master ride with you.” They stood, bowed, and quietly filed out of the room.

  They secured their portion of the evening meal and sought a quiet table where they could talk without disturbance. Pallin’s first question was, “who is Kerfluffle the Ogre?”

  Tristan laughed, “Kerfluffle is the ogre that supposedly eats small children who do not obey their parents. I would say he has little to say that is worthwhile, but if his counsel is as good as any we may as well all hang up our swords.” Pallin had been a half-starved stable boy when Tristan encountered him on a return trip to Astoria. The child of a poor mother and unknown father, he had had little parental attention in his short life. Tristan had taken pity on him and brought him back to Astoria where he eventually took his Oath and became the well-grown warrior who now sat before them. “

  When do we leave?” asked Pallin.

  “We leave as early tomorrow as we can,” said Tristan, “we travel together until Waymeet, at which point Arora will set off on her own for Arca. You and I will continue together until we reach the village of Darcy’s Spring in southern Arca. There we must split up and stagger our entrance into the inn so that no one suspects we are traveling together. After that, only the M
aster knows.”

  They talked for several hours, but eventually had to go to bed for they must rise early. Pallin slipped quickly off to his room. Tristan and Arora opted for a quiet walk on the moonlit lawn before going to bed. “It will be strange,” said Tristan, “not seeing you almost every day.”

  “Yes,” agreed his wife, “but we knew these days were coming. It is what and who we are after all. Our teaching assignments these last months have been a nice break from constant travel, but the Lady has directed and so we must go.”

  “Always ready for duty,” laughed Tristan, “one of the many things I love about you. I will miss you greatly, but at least we will be working in the same country.” She smiled far too much for the weakness of his humor, but that was another thing he loved about her. They walked along in the moonlight just enjoying one another’s company and wondering what the future held.

  Morning came far too early, but just as the sun was peeking over the distant hills they set out on their journey. They traveled quickly, for the Lady’s need was urgent, but it was a pleasant ride for the three companions. Too soon, they arrived at Waymeet where Arora turned East and headed for the capital city. Tristan and Pallin lingered a day at the inn to give her a head start. Then they began their own journey towards the village of Darcy’s Spring; that village had been the last known location of one of the fallen Brethren. As they traveled, Pallin worked up his nerve to finally ask, “so what is it like being married?”

  Tristan smiled fondly at the boy and said, “nice.”

  “That’s it?” asked Pallin in astonishment.

  “Well,” continued Tristan, “it is much, much more than that, but that sums it up pretty well, at least assuming you are married to the right woman. It is not all sunshine and roses, especially being married to someone who has had ninety years to get used to doing things her own way. It takes a lot of learning, humility, and compromise, but eventually you figure things out and it is, well…nice! It is a lot like discovering that half of yourself has been missing all these years and finally finding it; it somehow completes you.”

  “I do not understand any of that,” said Pallin.

  “No,” said Tristan, “it is something you must discover for yourself.”

  Pallin did not dare ask the other question that was burning in his mind and tried to think on other things. “What exactly is our plan once we reach the village?” he asked.

  “You are to do as you were instructed by the Lady,” said Tristan, “which is to correct some of these misconceptions in the minds of those you meet and see if you can discover anything about our missing colleagues. I will watch the reactions of those around you and see if I can find any interesting people. I fear that during this mission I may have to openly oppose or antagonize you. There will be no truth behind it, but I fear you may be hurt by it.”

  Pallin looked at him thoughtfully and said, “if it is for the sake of the mission I can handle it.” Tristan smiled proudly, the boy had truly become a man. Then Pallin said more cheerfully, “of course if you really meant any of it you would violate your Oath and succumb to your very old age.”

  “Not a pleasant thought,” laughed Tristan, “but true nonetheless.” As a result of taking the Oath, the Brethren were gifted with lifespans sometimes reaching several centuries. If the Oath was violated or revoked, the man’s natural age would soon catch up with him and leave him dead or quite decrepit. Tristan was over a hundred years old, and would not survive the event.

  They rode on and talked of many things on their long road. Finally reaching the village, Tristan rode on ahead and took a room at the inn. Pallin lingered under the cover of the trees and arrived at the inn as the sun set. Tristan sat alone in a corner of the common room, clothed as a simple traveler. Pallin walked in and took a place by the fire, wearing his uniform. Several other men were sitting about in the room, either guests at the inn or locals who enjoyed the company and news found in such places. They glanced curiously at Pallin, perhaps hoping for a bit of news from such an interesting stranger. “And to which tribe or circus do you belong?” croaked an old man from the other side of the room.

  Pallin smiled wryly at the rumpled old man and said, “I am of the Brethren and sworn to the Master and the Truth.”

  “Truth, bah,” said the old man, “I have had enough ‘truth’ to last me a lifetime. If it is not one idiot chattering away about something, it is another.”

  “I do not chatter,” said Pallin simply.

  The old man continued, “one man says you can only drink so much wine, you cannot enjoy the company of a woman, and can only have your tea so warm if you want to please this master character. Another says that truth is whatever you think it is. Yet someone else says we are all just supposed to be happy so do whatever it is that makes you happy and if your neighbor needs help you can think about helping him out if it does not cause you too much trouble. Someone else says if we are good enough this master-creature will bless us and make us all rich. Another one says there is no master or any other ‘superior’ being and we are all on our own so we might as well do as we like. So which one are you?”

  “I am none of those,” said Pallin quietly, “if there is no Master or ‘superior’ being then from where does the Common Law spring and why are there any laws at all? Why is everything not anarchy or tyranny? That there is order implies there is someone who has gone to the trouble of putting things in order and most believe this someone is the Master. Of course laws and rules can be taken too far and need to be balanced with such things as love, freedom, mercy, forgiveness, and justice. Just obeying a set of laws or rules does not please anyone. It is the intent of the heart that matters. Blessing or lack thereof do not come in response to our behavior, good or bad, but come according to the plans laid for each man’s life; it is our responses to bane and blessing that truly matter, not our relative wealth or poverty. The rains fall on the fields of the rich and poor alike, those of the good and the evil; blessing is not hindered or helped by our wealth or want of ‘goodness.’ If each man looked out only for his own good, the world would be a very sad and desperate place, not to mention meaningless. If we all pursue ‘happiness’ and then die, what is the point? Our lives were made for something greater than ourselves; we have purpose and meaning, and that is to help and love others to the best of our abilities.” The man seemed stunned into silence. He never thought such a young man could put his ideas forward so concisely in the face of cynicism.

  Tristan asked from the corner, “how do we know this ‘truth’ of yours is the actual Truth and not just another dead end or needless conjecture or that perhaps there is no truth or maybe there are many truths?”

  Pallin smiled good-humoredly at Tristan and said, “I am glad you ask my friend. Do you know how to milk a cow?”

  Tristan gave him a puzzled look saying, “yes but why are you changing the subject. Do you not have an answer?”

  Pallin caught the eyes of each man present in the common room, then confidently began, “we all assume that milk comes from somewhere. Most of us know it comes from cows (or other assorted female beasts). We also know that there is only one way to acquire milk: you must take a bucket and pull at the teat. You know milk does not come by yelling in her ear, scratching her back, or pumping her tail. So if we can believe something as simple as milk only comes from one place and is collected by one particular method, why is it so hard to believe that something as complicated as Truth and order are real and arise from a single source and are found in a single manner? One would assume the more complicated something is, the harder it is to get by random chance, from multiple sources, or by various means, which implies that order and law had to come from somewhere and that someone is the Master.”

  “I certainly never thought about it that way,” said Tristan, apparently impressed. What had happened to that ill-spoken, scrawny child he had rescued from the stable? Out of the c
orner of his eye, Tristan noticed a sharply dressed man eyeing Pallin with strong dislike and knew the fellow would bear watching.

  Pallin spent the next hour answering questions asked by the curious amongst his audience. On several occasions, Tristan made it obvious that he disagreed with the boy’s views on varying matters with questions like, “how do you know for sure?” or, “you seriously believe that?” Pallin responded patiently and cheerfully to each question or misconception. Most of the listeners left with something to think about. Tristan remained Pallin’s most vociferous adversary. The sharply dressed man said nothing, but watched the exchange with interest. After most of the men had retired to their beds, the mysterious man approached Tristan’s table and asked if he could buy Tristan a drink. Tristan nodded and the man took a seat as the serving girl brought Tristan a mug of wine. “Have you encountered these Brethren before?” asked the man quietly.

  “Here and there,” said Tristan.

  “Are you as skeptical of their message and intentions as I?” asked the man.

  “How skeptical are you?” asked Tristan.

  The man replied, “skeptical enough to wonder how anyone can honestly believe all the nonsense they do or live up to the standards they claim to uphold. It is humanly impossible.”

  “Humanly impossible, yes,” said Tristan, “but this Master of theirs supposedly helps them in their quest to uphold His laws and precepts. What do you think of that?”

  “I think,” said the man, “that this master of theirs is a real creature, but I also know that there are other beings out there. Some who surpass even his supposed greatness. How great can he be if he leaves all his ambitions and purposes to be accomplished by mere men? There are powers out there that lend themselves greatly to those who seek more than their share of this pitiful mortal state. Power can be found by those who truly seek it.”

  “You sound as quasi-mystical as the Brethren,” laughed Tristan.

  “This is no joke,” growled the man, “if you wish to know more, help me rid the world of yet another of these pesky Brethren. They are forever getting in the way and causing trouble.”

  “What must I do?” asked Tristan quietly.

  Tristan ordered two mugs of wine and carried them to the table where Pallin sat alone, seemingly deep in thought.

  “I am sorry for the skepticism earlier,” said Tristan, “please accept my apologies.”

  Pallin nodded his acceptance and took the proffered mug. “What can I do for you?” asked he.

  “I just wanted to know a bit more about you and your organization,” said Tristan.

  “I see,” said Pallin. They spent the next half hour talking over mundane gibberish concerning Pallin’s business in the area and generalities about the Brethren.

  Then Tristan asked innocently, “so when are you leaving and where will your travels take you?”

  “I leave at sunrise tomorrow,” said Pallin, “I am headed towards the capitol by the main road.”

  “I should probably let you go to bed then,” said Tristan, “I wish to thank you for your time and again apologize for my interference.”

  “It was no great trouble and I thank you for your concern,” said Pallin.

  “Before I go, I have a rather peculiar question to ask,” said Tristan hopefully.

  “Yes?” said Pallin with a slight grin.

  Tristan whispered in his ear, “the man in the fine clothing has offered to let me kill you. He wants to know your time and route of departure. I suggest you take Taragon tomorrow instead of your own mount, that way I can alert him to your danger and he can keep you both safe.”

  Pallin forced a laugh and said aloud, “why such secrecy? It is no great secret that the Brethren ride unicorns. May the Master ride with you my friend.” Tristan smiled blandly at his friend and returned to his table. Pallin shortly retired, leaving Tristan alone with the strange man.

  “Well done,” said the stranger, “but what was all that nonsense at the end?”

  “I was just curious,” said Tristan with a foolish grin, “and trying to put the man at ease.”

  “I see,” said the man, “meet me tomorrow ere sunrise and we shall see what comes of it.” Tristan nodded and retreated to his own room.

  Early the next morning, Tristan emerged from his room and met at the designated place. It was damp and cold while they waited in ambush for Pallin. The other man was distinctly unpleasant to wait with at such an early hour (or any other time for that matter). As the sun finally made its appearance, the crunch of hooves on leaves carried on the wind. A unicorn could travel in absolute silence if need be; Tristan knew this one meant to be heard. He sensed Taragon approaching and smiled in anticipation, happy that Pallin had heeded his warning. The man nodded silently at Tristan who then drew back the string of his bow, ready to loose at the approaching rider. As the pair came into view, Tristan mentally bid the unicorn to halt. He obeyed immediately; then Tristan bid him run.

  Taragon snorted in disgust but hastily retreated as the arrow flew true, landing where Pallin’s heart should have been had Taragon continued onwards. Tristan then allowed the natural results of his actions to follow their course. He felt stallion’s rage and heard his scream of challenge, even as they heard the rasp of metal on metal as Pallin’s sword left its scabbard and the thunder of charging hooves soon followed. Nothing is as terrifying as an enraged unicorn, save perhaps an irritated dragon. Tristan and the stranger fled from their impending doom, escaping into the deep tangle of brush and rock that would slow the charging beast. They ran for twenty minutes with the pair in distant pursuit until Tristan bid Taragon to gradually slow and give up the chase. He complied, though with much confusion, but such was his trust in his master. The pair ran on for a few more minutes until they were sure they were not pursued.

  Tristan turned on the stranger in mock-anger, “what was that? We were nearly run down by that awful beast. I thought this was just a little chore that had to be done before breakfast? The Brethren are responsible for my current state in life, but I never thought to risk so much for the sake of so little.”

  The stranger sat down and could hardly laugh between his gasps for air, “you have lost nothing and gained much. You are a good marksman and would have hit your target had the beast not caught some hint of us and ruined your shot. The man lives, for now. It was no great worry to me if he survived or not. It would have been a pleasure to sink an arrow into his arrogant heart, but we may still have a chance to do so. He goes to Arca, so must I. If he becomes a problem he will be dealt with. The point of this little ‘chore’ was to test your heart and see what kind of man you are. Apparently you are not afraid to kill, even one so pious as the Brethren make out to be. I am in need of an assistant and last night I felt something about you, that perhaps you might be the man I was seeking.” Tristan gave him an odd look. He continued, “you think I plot murder with every random stranger I meet?” Tristan shook his head wondering where this was going. “There is something about you,” said the man, “that I find fascinating. Stick with me and you will go far.” Tristan could not imagine anyone he would rather spend less time with than the stranger. “I am called Trap,” said the man.