The Serpent and the Unicorn: Book I and II

by Susan Skylark

Chapter 1

  The wind blew cold off the sea, but the promise of Spring lingered in the salty air. Wrapped in her cloak against the damp and cold of early morning, Arora walked the battlements of the crumbling old castle on the verge of the Eastern Sea. Occasionally a breaker crashed against the rocky cliffs upon which the castle perched like an ungainly bird. A sea bird called above in a voice speaking of loneliness and vast distances. Arora knew how he must feel. Somewhere far away, preparing for a war that might destroy everything she held dear, was her husband whom she had not seen in several months. Her duties kept her confined to this miserable old castle or to the main campus of the University some days’ ride to the West. As head of her department, she was in charge of overseeing all the activities of the associate professors beneath her. Since her department was by now the largest and their classes the most sought after, the whole thing had been moved to this hulking ruin of a fortress. And so had come a great many students who stayed as long as they needed to complete the required classes to gain the now much sought after title of Scholar, and perhaps one day Professor.

  There had been a time when the whole University had been a joke to everyone outside of it, but things were changing swiftly as it began to actually teach useful knowledge and hold its teachers and students responsible for their actions. Incredibly, it was starting to become a respectable institution. Unlike the Order of the Unicorn, which in recent months had changed its name to the Legion of the Serpent, its main purpose had also changed from upholding their own version of peace and justice to one of conquest in the name of evil. Arora knew the truth behind the change, even if most people did not. An insidious evil calling itself the Brotherhood of the Serpent was again influencing the former Order, but this time it was not only an indirect influence but in overt control. Long had the Brotherhood operated in secret, trying to accomplish the purposes of the Evil One through human servants dedicated to him body and soul. Only recently had their existence become known to the Brethren, and since then their tactics had moved from secret manipulations and the spreading of chaos to plans for outright war and conquest.

  War was coming, but this was just the latest skirmish in a far greater war that stretches back to the very beginnings of time when the Master’s greatest servant rebelled against Him and evil first came into being. Once innocent of all evil, man soon followed in the Evil One’s footsteps, forsaking the Master’s laws and Truth to follow his own twisted path. The Master interceded directly when men first chose evil over good, but ever afterwards it was up to His servants to defend the Truth and protect the vulnerable; they became known as the Brethren and are the world’s greatest defense against the powers of darkness. The Brotherhood of the Serpent became the Evil One’s answer to the Brethren. The Order of the Unicorn grew up as an independent military organization hoping for the glory of the Brethren without having to sacrifice their own desires and dreams (and sometimes their lives) for the greater good. Now the Order had been overtaken by evil men and was all but a military extension of the Brotherhood. Most of the honorable men within the Order had recently been driven out, some had joined the Brethren while many of the rest prepared for war as allies under the Brethren’s banner.

  Not only were there evil tidings from the former Order, but there were other worrisome rumors. Evil things were stirring again in the Northern Wilds and in the Western Mountains. Many were the dark men seen crossing the Untamed Wilds on fell errands of their own. Everywhere unrest and rebellion seemed to be fomenting; once peaceful lands were now dealing with open revolt. The Lady of Astoria had agents in every country, city, and major village trying to prepare all free lands for the coming onslaught. However, local leaders were far too busy with their own problems to worry about a larger, vaguer danger. For the moment, the world lay hushed, as if on the brink of something vast and horrible that only time would reveal, but all knew it was coming and soon. Arora ceased her pacing upon the walls and made her way down to the kitchens to find something warm to drink; she only wished her heart could find solace as easily as her stomach.

  Not too far away, in the Kingdom of Arca, Bristol walked about the castle gardens in the gloom before sunrise. He felt uneasy as he had rarely felt before; something deep inside bid him be cautious this day. As he paced, a servant found him and summoned him to a small parlor. He entered the chamber and looked hopefully at the fire burning cheerfully upon the hearth, but his heart grew cold at the sight of the man with whom he shared the room. The man gave him a haughty smile and said, “Captain Bristol, you are hereby relieved of duty as Advisor to the King of Arca for the Order of the Unicorn. You are also relieved of all rank, privileges, and rights within the Order; the Order itself shall hereafter be known to you and all others as the Legion of the Serpent. I, Colonel Lyre, shall henceforth take over all of your previous duties and responsibilities. You are asked to withdraw immediately from these premises upon pain of death should you refuse.” The man wore a triumphant smirk; he had come far since Bristol last saw him stripped of all rank within the Order and sent out with the new recruits on a training patrol. He now wore a black tunic with a fiery serpent emblazoned upon it. Bristol’s own tunic of white bore a blue rearing unicorn; apparently the Order had changed uniforms as well as names.

  Bristol stripped off his tunic and tossed it into the fire. Then he faced Lyre and said, “I accept the fact that I am no longer a part of the Order or the Legion or whatever you prefer to call it, however I am still a member of the Brethren and the Lady’s duly appointed representative to the King. I cannot abandon my post save by her order. I believe the King would take it amiss if you murdered one of his advisors. However, if I must leave or die I stand ready to defend myself, though I dare say it will be a poor beginning between you and the King should he discover the cause of my demise, and an even worse beginning for you should you fall by my blade instead.”

  Lyre eyed him skeptically, but finally submitted to his reasoning, “very well, it will be as it must, but do not get in my way. We are not officially enemies yet, but I think the day will soon dawn that sees you and your ilk become hunted men in all lands. I hope it comes soon.” With that he stomped out of the room. Bristol stared at the closed door in astonishment and then went to find another shirt.

  Tristan walked among the sparring pairs of men as they exchanged blows with practice swords, yelling advice or a warning to the various students as he saw things that needed improvement. Occasionally, a muffled thump and exclamation of pain reminded the recipient to improve his blocking technique. Finally, he called a stop to the exercise and after a few parting remarks sent his pupils off to find their noon meal. He felt a pair of eyes upon him, and looking up saw the Lady standing at a window; she motioned for him to attend her and he made his way towards her chambers. He found her in a sunny room overlooking the courtyard where his students had been practicing. He bowed as he entered the room and took the seat she indicated. She smiled fondly at him, they had had many such meetings over the course of the century in which he had been in her service.

  “I know you grow weary of training students in the arts of war,” said she, “so I am sending you out once again on yet another vital mission.” Tristan perked up at the mention of another mission; he did not mind training students, but his true calling was in performing the often strange and sometimes impossible tasks the Lady set before him. She continued, “as you know, there have been radical changes within the Order or the Legion, and the Brotherhood has also become much more overt in its enmity. You have also heard the rumors of localized rebellions and the stirring of evil things in wild places. We all know that war is brewing and evil seems to be growing everywhere, but no one knows anything for sure. I have our agents scattered across the whole face of the world, but communication is intermittent at best and nonexistent at worst. There are also various peoples and creatures from whom we have not heard in some time. I need to know what is happening and where. I am sending
you out into the coming storm to discover from our agents and allies what is happening across the width and breadth of the world, and also to ascertain where each country, city-state, and every minor village stands as far as sending help should impending war necessitate it.” Tristan nodded, understanding his mission but wondering how he alone was to accomplish such a monumental task before it was too late. The Lady, seeming to read his thoughts, said, “do not worry, you are not the only one I am sending forth. Several of our best agents are being sent to discover what I need to know. You must travel quickly, but must be thorough in your observations. May the Master ride with you.” He stood and bowed to her and went to prepare for his journey.

  From long experience, he knew exactly what he would need for such a journey and was quickly packed and ready to go. His assigned route included parts of the Northern Wilds, the Eastern Realms, and the small country of Vespera, all of which he had visited within the last few years and was well-acquainted with many of the people (and creatures) with whom he would be dealing. As he headed back towards the courtyard, saddlebags slung over his shoulder, he met Trap in the corridors. “Heading off into deadly peril?” joked Trap.

  “As usual,” smiled Tristan, “the Lady is sending me out to learn exactly what is going on in the wide world.”

  “Me too,” said Trap, “I am off as soon as I can get my things packed. I see that you are ahead of me, as usual.” Tristan laughed and clapped the other man on the back in a fond farewell. It was hard to believe that less than a year ago Trap had been an important member of the Brotherhood, but was now a respected member of the Brethren. They parted and each went about his respective duties. In the courtyard stood a shaggy sorrel gelding, a far cry from the great unicorn stallion that Tristan knew lurked beneath the surface. Each member of the Brethren had a close relationship with a unicorn, though the unicorns often draped themselves in the guise of normal horses to hide their identities. Tristan smiled at Taragon’s well-chosen disguise; no one would look twice at a road-weary traveler on such a plain beast. Taragon whickered in greeting and followed Tristan to the stable where he dug his much worn tack out of storage and went about the familiar ritual of putting it on his mount. After Tristan was mounted, Taragon frisked and bucked a bit, eager to be on the road once more. He wearied of the sedentary life of the last few months as much as his master. Soon they were off again to adventures unknown.

  Their road first took them North into the Wilds to discover what the People of the Wood and Nargath the dragon knew of happenings in those unclaimed lands. Tristan saw few travelers upon the road as they headed farther from civilization, and those he did meet were the kind that did not stop to exchange idle chatter with a stranger. A unicorn is the swiftest of all creatures that go on four legs and can travel at speeds over great distances that would soon exhaust a horse. Before long, they had reached the far-flung inn at which he and Arora had once met a strange man who had later introduced them to the People of the Wood. The Hidden People stood much shorter than a normal man and lived secret lives far in the depths of the forest, protected from unfriendly eyes by an inborn skill for illusion and a talent for redirecting unwary strangers. That curious little folk were very fond of music and Arora’s musical skills had earned them a rare invitation to visit their well-hidden village. Tristan hoped finding them again would not be a challenge. They knew this part of the Wilds better than anyone, and their input was vital for the completion of Tristan’s mission.

  Tristan left Taragon to the care of the stable boy and went into the inn. He glanced around at the gathered patrons and smiled as he recognized their previous informant. He ordered two mugs of ale and sat down across from the man, pushing the second mug towards him. The man looked at him curiously but gratefully accepted the drink. “You probably do not remember me,” said Tristan, “but I once traveled with a rather remarkable songstress whom you wished to introduce to some extraordinary friends of yours. I am in desperate need of their aid; is it possible to renew our acquaintance?”

  The man narrowed his eyes and stared at Tristan; recognition seemed to dawn in his eyes. “It may be possible,” whispered the man fingering his scruffy beard, “of what sort of aid are we speaking and why? And where is that pretty little songstress?”

  Tristan smiled, “you do well to be cautious in these uneasy times. The lady of whom you speak is far to the South on other business. I was sent by a certain Lady who begs any tidings they might have of strange or evil happenings within their borders in these ever darkening days. Mention the Lady and they will know of whom I speak; they have sent her at least one emissary in recent months.”

  The man nodded grimly, “I will relay your message but it is their choice as to whether or not they will meet with you.”

  “Fair enough,” said Tristan, “I shall remain here and wait for their answer.”

  The shaggy man finished his drink then scuttled out in search of his mysterious friends. He returned a few hours later and said, “they remember you well and send greetings to you and your noble mount. They will gladly meet with you, though why they care about your horse I cannot imagine. Please follow me.” Tristan stood up and together they walked out into the darkness; Tristan stopped long enough to collect Taragon from the stable before heading off into the forest with his strange guide. They walked silently for almost an hour. The going was slow because there was no moon to light the way and neither dared light a torch for fear of unwanted eyes. At last they came to a huge, dead oak tree and beneath it stood a small, wary man. He bowed in greeting and exchanged thanks with the other man who then slipped off into the night. The short man motioned for Tristan to follow. For another hour they plunged into the murky depths of the pathless woods until they came at last to the silent village, high among the boughs of great and ancient trees.

  Tristan removed Taragon’s tack and let him wander at will among the ancient boles. The little man waited patiently at the base of a great tree from whose branches hung a rope ladder leading up to an arboreal cottage high among its branches. They climbed up the ladder and drew it up behind them. They were now inaccessible to enemies on the ground. They went into the snug little house and drew up chairs in front of a small fire. “Welcome tall one,” said the old man, “I wish you had brought your lady with you for I long for a cheerful song, but things are as they are so I will content myself with conversation. You have journeyed far, and I hope not in vain. As you know, we are a watchful but quiet people. We do not go willingly beyond the borders of our land, but we know all that goes on within our bounds. What exactly do you wish to know?”

  Tristan said, “I have been sent by the Lady of Astoria to beg your help. The world grows uneasy and restless; evil seems to stir everywhere. I and several others are traveling to many lands and visiting with many peoples in hopes of gathering what information we can on the state of things within each country and also to know what help each land is willing to send should things grow dire.”

  The little man was silent then began, “as for help, we will fight evil that enters or threatens our borders, but little use are we away from our forest home. We will assist as we can, but we will not send men to die vainly in war. We are not a warrior folk, but we can defend our lives and homes if pressed. We would be underfoot and in the way among larger and more seasoned soldiers in any battle we tried to fight. As far as information, I know only what our scouts have seen. On your last visit here, you pursued one of the evil men who make the strange journey afoot into the swamps beyond the forest in pursuit of the vile Lurkers that roam those forsaken lands. Of late, there seem to be many more journeys by such men, sometimes several men a month are seen making the passage, though not long ago it was only a few men in a year‘s time. The scouts also bring tidings of nameless and evil creatures roaming farther south than they normally do. Evil seems to stir on all our borders and even within.”

  They talked long into the night about
such things before retiring to bed and sleeping late. Tristan awoke to a glorious breakfast of all the wild bounties the woods could produce. He and his host talked again for much of the day, this time of topics less vital and dark. The man seemed to enjoy news of the outside world and philosophical musings almost as much as he had Arora’s music. As late afternoon approached, Tristan felt the need to be on his way and said, “I thank you very much for your hospitality and also for your information. I know you are a quiet folk wishing only to live peacefully in your own way, but I fear a conflict is coming that may consume the whole world and then none may live in peace. The Lady asks only that you stand ready to do what you can. Her thanks and gratitude I also impart.” The little man bowed to Tristan, and Tristan returned it in kind. He bid his host a fond farewell and left in search of Nargath the dragon.