The Serpent and the Unicorn: Book I and II

by Susan Skylark

  Chapter 2

  They walked quickly back to the inn. In their absence, Pallin had returned Taragon to the stable and retrieved his mare. Taragon waited impatiently in his stall (disguised once more as a normal horse) and laid back his ears in irritation at the morning’s events, angry that he had not received so much as a warning. “You have done well old boy,” Tristan said to the angry unicorn, “we must pretend again to be that which we are not.” The creature seemed mollified and whickered in anticipation of their next adventure. They finished tacking up the horses and met outside.

  “He looks a handful,” said Trap, “have you ever thought of having him gelded?”

  “He has his moments,” said Tristan smiling, “but most of the time he behaves himself.” Taragon laid back his ears at such a discussion. They rode in silence for the entire day. When they camped for the night in a secluded place, Tristan asked, “what are these ‘other powers’ you speak of and what do you know of this Master?”

  Trap smiled knowingly and said, “I thought you were not interested in ‘quasi-mysticism’ or was I mistaken?”

  “I am trapped in the middle of this,” said Tristan, “unless I miss my guess you will kill me if I do not cooperate?”

  Trap said, “you see much. That is a valuable skill if used properly. If it is used improperly you can guess the rest. I will tell you more of these ‘powers’ as we travel, but tonight I will give you an overview." He began his tale, which was eerily similar to that which Tristan had heard so many years ago during his own initial training with the Brethren, but as with all things touched by the Enemy, it was twisted and deformed into a dark and hideous shadow, stricken of all beauty or hope: in the infancy of man, he was innocent and stunted. The Master had made him and all the world, but kept from his greatest creation the knowledge of true power. An aspiring warlord became aware of the path to true power and in the attempt to secure it for himself (via the life of his daughter) the Master tried to intervene, offering his own life in exchange for the girl’s.

  The bargain was struck and the Master slain. Man’s innocence came to an abrupt end, and all mankind awakened to the possibility of controlling their own destinies. While the warlord was overthrown, others rose to take his place and those who sought True Power could find it. In exchange for their meager lives, they could acquire true knowledge and power beyond mortal imagining in service to the one who overthrew the Master. The Brethren claimed a similar origin except their tale tells that the Master was not captive to the chains of death and came forth from the grave in triumph. They also claim this history as the origin of the unicorn and that the Master appears to mortals in the form of one of the cursed beasts. Whether he still lives or not, the Master was apparently not strong enough to overthrow the ultimate power completely and thus the Brethren still carry the tale that he has retreated from interfering directly in human affairs, save through his people and the choices they make. The power that overthrew the Master has no such qualms about appearing to advise and direct the actions of those sworn to him.

  “Well?” asked the man.

  “That is quite a story,” said Tristan, “I am either in league with a madman or someone who is confident in his plans, and I do not doubt your sanity. How does one go about ‘seeking’ this other power? It sounds dangerous.”

  “You will not have to make any hurried decisions,” said the man, “but you must do as you are told and follow my lead. Previously, various associates of mine have tried to influence their way into political power hoping to gain control over certain nations and armies. The results were disastrous once the Brethren figured out what we were up to. Our new objective is to so dilute ‘the Truth,’ as the Brethren call it, that they lose their ability to influence the common people and the powers that move the nations. Where force does not work, confusion will suffice. Our main ally in this task will be the so-called Order of the Unicorn. Many of them are now sworn to the Brethren, but the others can be used to say whatever we choose to put in their mouths. The common people cannot tell the Order from the Brethren; it will be beautifully chaotic.” Tristan had to admit it was a good plan, though he still did not understand completely how it was to be accomplished. The Lady’s plans were working far too well, he thought uneasily. Hopefully Pallin and Arora were having an easier time of it.

  Pallin rode to Arca without incident and found an inn on the edge of town. He would apply to the King on the morrow, but the majority of his time would be spent among the common people; it was Arora’s job to keep an eye on the nobility. He still did not understand what exactly was going on between Tristan and the stranger. He had had no control whatsoever over Taragon, the whole scene must have been of Tristan’s making. Tristan was too good a shot to miss with that arrow unless he intended to, which meant that the assassination attempt must have been some sort of test, and Tristan felt he needed to pass it in order to further the Lady’s plan. If that was the case, then Tristan was walking a very dangerous line; he would be killed if he failed to obey his new companion and if he violated his Oath, he would certainly die.

  Arora had arrived in Arca several days before Pallin. After a brief demonstration for the King and all the Court, she was welcomed as the new Court Bard and then allowed to retire to her quarters to recover from her journey. Her duties were to attend court and any other public functions and entertain as needed. She was also to present herself to the King and any of the nobility in residence at the palace that felt they needed a little music, entertainment, or cheering up. She kept quite busy, as she was a talented musician and the nobles were a very needy group of individuals. She was often considered part of the furniture or one of the servants, and as her music helped them to relax, people forgot she was even there and talked on endlessly about various plots, romances, and intrigues. She found it all rather tedious, but it fascinated the nobility to no end, but she neither heard nor saw anything that suggested a sinister plot to destroy the Brethren.

  She occasionally chatted with Bristol, who was the official advisor to the King for both the Brethren and the Order, but she spent as much or more time speaking with the various other sundry representatives to the court so as not to arouse suspicion. She missed Tristan terribly, but he had his duties and she had hers. She was sure he must be having a far more exciting (and dangerous) time than she was. Several days after her arrival, Pallin presented himself to the King. He did not spend much, if any time at court, but wished to make the king aware of his presence in the city. The King really did not care one way or another about yet another adherent to whatever doctrine or organization he belonged to. There seemed to be a confusing array of viewpoints currently expressed in Arca on every imaginable subject. Arora felt herself in the heart of a philosophical maelstrom. They had certainly found the center of the rumors and the source of the Lady’s concern. Whatever might be spreading across the world had its epicenter in Arca.

  The King loved to listen to philosophers, lawyers, poets, academics, and any other great (or seemingly great) thinkers he could find. It was not that he was such a great thinker himself, but he felt smarter by listening to others who were or claimed to be. What he truly believed himself, no one knew or really cared. In Arca, it seemed that one could think what one liked and say whatever one wanted as long as one did not force it upon others unwillingly. Everyone was willing to listen to almost anything, though what was said really had no impact on anyone else as each person had their own version of ‘truth’ and could care less about other views, save for a slight academic curiosity. For all of the intellectual noise floating about there was actually very little of worth said. The King (and everyone else) really did not care to distinguish the Brethren from the Order (and hence the need for a dual representative) and what one group thought, said, or believed, was pretty much assumed to be the same thing.

  The relatively short ride to Arca felt the longest of Tristan's life. The man with whom he kep
t company was altogether evil, though in a frighteningly practical sort of way. Talking to him, you would have no trouble imagining him to be someone's brother, cousin, friend, or husband: just an everyday person. But deep down in the core of his being there was no concern for anyone, just his own selfish desires for power. Everything he did was determined by whatever actions he felt would be the most beneficial to his current and future plans. He was a cold, calculating individual who made no decisions based on emotions or feelings; he did not seem to have any. He found amusement in various situations and enjoyment in certain activities but it was only a superficial, transient feeling that never touched his heart; there was nothing of joy, hope, gratitude, or any other such 'frivolous' sentiments about him.

  His only motivation in life was acquiring as much power and status as he could; no matter the cost to himself or others. Tristan found nothing at all in common with the man. He found himself wondering how anyone could go through life so unaffected by other people, the beauties of nature, and so indifferent to all that is good and wonderful in the world. It was as if he forbade himself to feel either love or hate, good feelings or bad. He was indifferent to everything and everyone unless they got in his way or could advance his goals. Tristan felt that he was simply a tool to the man: a hammer to be thrown aside if broken or unneeded. He had been a man of duty most of his life, but never had he felt that he was simply one more spoke in the wheel. He had never lacked a sense of dignity in his work, but this man sucked all worth and joy out of everything around him. Previously, his enemies were at least able to hate him. This man seemed incapable of even showing that much concern. He was human in form but humanity was not counted among his traits.

  Since Tristan had little to say, Trap did most of the talking. He spoke often, though never with much depth, on the various ways to achieve power and what could be attained if one abandoned concern over the trifling worth of others. He spoke little of himself, his current plans, or Tristan's role in things to come; when questioned about such things he merely shrugged. But he did ask Tristan, "you mentioned that the Brethren are responsible for your current state in life, how so?"

  Tristan replied, "after the death of my parents, I became a thief to survive. I was caught and the Brethren had a great influence on how things turned out afterward. I ended up forever roaming the world, never finding a place to rest. Their meddling made me what I am today." In reality, the Brethren were the only reason he even survived, without their help he would have died in a prison mine within a year of his capture. They were the reason he was in his current situation, just not in the way Trap would see it.

  Trap smiled coldly, "then I think you would be happy at the recent change in your fortunes."

  "I suppose," said Tristan, "though I still wonder where this whole thing is going."

  "You will see soon enough," said Trap.

  The morning they were to ride into Arca, Trap handed Tristan a bundle of clothes as they were breaking camp. "What is this?" asked Tristan curiously.

  "Just put it on," said Trap. Tristan unrolled the bundle and found a uniform he knew far too well. No matter where he went or what he did, he never seemed able to take off the uniform of the Order of the Unicorn for very long.

  As they rode, Tristan asked, “what do you know of the Brethren?”

  Trap gave him an irritated look but said, “as much as anyone I suppose. They claim to have some sort of oath to this Master of theirs that they claim must be kept at all costs. They have some sort of mind-control over their mounts; it is well known that unicorns are smart for beasts but are nonetheless unthinking animals. Their main headquarters seems to be in Astoria and their leader is known as ‘the Lady.’ They travel the world interfering in everyone’s business and preaching their so-called truth. They do have an excellent training program and produce some of the greatest musicians, warriors, and scholars in the world. That is about all that is known of them to me. Why do you ask?”

  “Just curious,” said Tristan, “I want to know as much as I can before dealing with another one.”

  Tristan, now resplendent in his new Order uniform, rode silently through the streets of Arca with Trap beside him. Trap said, “you are now an unofficial member of the Order of the Unicorn.”

  “Are you an official member?” asked Tristan.

  Trap smirked and said, “I have my connections.”

  “The Order is bound to have a representative to the King,” said Tristan.

  “Of course,” said the other, “and we are here to replace him.”

  “What if he will not cooperate?” asked Tristan.

  “Then you get to deal with him,” said Trap, “that is what minions are for.” Tristan grimaced, but did not ask any more questions.

  They approached the main gate to the palace and dismounted as the guards questioned them. Trap presented a copy of his ‘orders’ to the guards and they were allowed to pass. Servants came to take their horses and one led them to the King’s audience chamber. The King was seated on a throne at one end of the chamber while various nobles, lords, generals, and advisors stood or sat along either side, leaving open a center aisle. Trap walked forward confidently and gave the King a minimal bow. Tristan walked some distance behind and gave a more formal bow.

  Trap did all the talking, “your Majesty, I bring you greetings from the High Council of the Order of the Unicorn. I shall be the Order’s official advisor to your Majesty.”

  The king looked a little confused and said, “do I not already have an advisor from your Order? Brindle…or whoever you are, what is going on here?”

  Bristol emerged from the crowd of courtiers and stood before the King. He bowed and said, “your Majesty I have received no notice of such a change.” He glanced curiously at the newcomer and Tristan.

  “Here are my official orders,” said Trap, handing them to Bristol.

  He glanced at what appeared to be genuine documents and said, “I see that I am to be replaced immediately by this man, but I do not understand why.”

  “Well,” said the king, indifferently, “you had best figure it out amongst yourselves. I really do not care who ‘advises’ me, as I never really listen to anything you say anyway. Arora! Some music!” The three men quickly moved out of the middle of the hall and into a secluded corner to talk. Tristan peered longingly over his shoulder as his wife began to play. She gave him a small, loving smile and continued her song.

  “I do not understand,” said Bristol, “I should have received some word that I was to be replaced. Where is my next assignment to be?” He glanced curiously at Tristan but said nothing of their acquaintance.

  “I do not know,” said Trap, “perhaps the messenger was lost or delayed, things happen. I just know that I am to take this post immediately.”

  “And what of me?” asked Bristol.

  “I do not care,” said Trap, “just go away and do not bother me.”

  “I can at least remain as the Lady’s representative to the King,” said Bristol irritably.

  “The Lady?” asked Trap.

  “Did you not know I was a dual representative for both the Order and the Brethren?” said Bristol.

  “I see,” said Trap, “perhaps that is the reason for your dismissal. Perhaps the High Council feared a conflict of interest. You will have to take it up with them.”

  “I will,” said Bristol. He bowed to them coldly and walked away.

  Trap whispered to Tristan, “he will become a problem. I had no idea he represented both groups, perhaps I can do the same. The King does not know of any difference between the groups and the nobles do not care. This Bristol must be disposed of. I think that will be your first official task as my apprentice.”

  “Apprentice?” gasped Tristan.

  “I told you I needed an assistant,” said Trap with a cold smile, “if you work out as well as I hope, you could go far under my guidan
ce.”

  “But to whom or what am I apprenticing myself?” asked Tristan.

  Trap glanced around cautiously but there was no one within earshot, “why to the Brotherhood of the Serpent.”

  “The what?” asked Tristan.

  “The real power in the world,” said Trap, “the Brethren are nothing compared to us.” Though he expected it to be the case, it was still a difficult truth to comprehend. He had fought these evil men and chased them halfway across the world; he never expected to be working closely with them.

  They found a place to stand amongst the courtiers and listened to the music. After Arora had played as much as the King wanted for the moment, a philosopher was brought forth who spent the balance of the day spouting nonsense. What a tedious way to spend a day, let alone a lifetime! Tristan suddenly pitied Bristol and Arora, though he would not wish his current position on either of them. After the court was dismissed, everyone retreated to their rooms for the evening; a servant found Tristan and Trap and led them to their assigned quarters. Once they were alone, Trap said, “I think this Bristol needs to disappear tonight, and secretly. Can you handle that?”

  “I will see to it that he is not here at sunrise,” said Tristan as a cold fist clenched his heart.

  “Oh yes,” said Trap viciously, “I want evidence that he has been dealt with.”

  Tristan nodded dully, grabbed his weapons, and left the room. Tristan found a servant who took him to Bristol’s quarters where he knocked on the door. “Who is it?” came a muffled voice from within.

  “I have come to speak with you about today’s confusion,” said Tristan.

  Bristol cracked the door open and said tersely, “come in then, if you must.” He nearly grabbed Tristan and drug him inside. Once the door was safely closed and no servants were within earshot Bristol pulled Tristan into a great hug and laughed, “it is wonderful to see you!”

  Tristan smiled weakly, “it is a pleasure to see you as well, I just wish I had better news.”

  “You have rejoined the Order?” asked Bristol.

  “Not exactly,” said Tristan, “the man you met today, the one I am currently forced to travel with, is an imposter.”

  “I thought as much,” said Bristol, “what is he up to?”

  “I do not know what he intends,” said Tristan, “but I believe he is responsible for the disappearance of three of the Brethren in this region over the past six months. He has already attempted to kill Pallin.”

  Bristol stared hard at Tristan and asked, “what does this have to do with you, me, or the Order?”

  “You have seen Arora and Pallin?” asked Tristan.

  “Of course,” said Bristol.

  “The Lady sent the three of us into Arca to discover the fate of the missing Brethren and to find out what is behind all these confused rumors she hears from the Eastern Realms. You have seen what Arora and Pallin are about, but my own quest has taken a bizarre turn. I am currently traveling with a member of the Brotherhood of the Serpent and he wants me to join his little society.”

  Bristol stared at Tristan in disbelief, “you?!”

  “Yes me,” said Tristan grimly, “this was not my idea, but this is a perfect opportunity to discover what makes the Brotherhood tick. The only problem is that I may wind up dead by the end of it. I need to figure out how to play along with this wretched man without violating my Oath. Once the choice comes between violating my Oath or revealing my identity, I believe it will come to a fight, and who knows who will prevail? My current assignment is to murder you.”

  “Thank you for asking,” said Bristol, “I cannot abide murderers who do not ask politely before killing someone.”

  Tristan laughed for the first time in days. “It does seem a bit odd, does it not?” he said, “I just wish I knew more of what he is up to, but to figure that out I will have to survive a little longer, which means obeying him to the best of my abilities. So how shall I go about killing you?”

  Bristol smiled at Tristan’s forced humor and said, “I can slip out of the palace unseen tonight and ride for Astoria immediately. I shall inform the Lady of your current predicament.” He sighed but said with a proud smile, “you have been a good friend and I hope to see you again.” They hugged once more and then Bristol handed Tristan his tunic. Using a dagger they ripped a hole in it and Bristol then used the knife to slash his palm, and dribbling some of the blood onto the tunic. “That certainly looks like someone died in it,” said Bristol with a grim smile.

  “Now how do we dispose of the body?” asked Tristan.

  “Simple,” said Bristol, “we will fetch our mounts and ride out to a little tavern I know. After we get roaring ‘drunk,’ we will ride off together into the woods around the city and you will return alone. Everyone else will think I have spent the night drowning my sorrows and then rode off disgraced into the night. While this ‘friend’ of yours will think you handily disposed of me.” It was as good a plan as any Tristan could think of.

  They went to the stables and saddled their unicorns and rode out to the little inn on the edge of town; it was a pleasant place full of friendly people. It seemed the favorite pastime of the Arcans was to sit around and listen to the latest ideas, revelations, or theories, most of which were complete nonsense, whether at court or in the local tavern. Tristan and Bristol ordered copious amounts of alcohol but consumed very little. Bristol got louder and ‘drunker’ as the night progressed and by the small hours of the morning seemed completely inebriated. They left the inn staggering and mounted their horses, riding drunkenly into the wooded hills. No one ever saw Bristol come back. Tristan slipped quietly into the palace and found his way to the rooms he shared with Trap. It was pitch black inside and a voice from the darkness demanded, “well?”

  Tristan said, “he will not be bothering us any longer.” He tossed the bloodied tunic in the direction from which the voice had come. Trap lit a candle and examined the garment.

  “Very good,” said Trap, “and no one will suspect anything?”

  “We went out and ‘got drunk’ together; it will be assumed he was drinking away his misery and rode off into the darkness to hide his shame.”

  “Well done,” said Trap, “now get some sleep.”