The Serpent and the Unicorn: Book I and II

by Susan Skylark

  Chapter 3

  Tristan visited the University briefly and found things radically changed, but somehow not very much different. The same air of otherworldliness endured though the lecture topics were much more relevant to everyday life. Geff enjoyed the opportunity to reaffirm his choice to join the Brethren. It was refreshing to know one’s life had purpose and meaning, whereas at the University it was not always clear why people did the things they did, especially to themselves. After finding the faculty and students as clueless to happenings in the world at large as ever, Tristan gave up trying to enlist help or garner information from such a source. They rode swiftly for the crumbling fortress on the edge of the sea. The night was wet and dark as they rode up to the gates. “Who goes?” came the familiar question.

  “We seek Arora,” said Tristan.

  “Professor Arora is not to be disturbed, especially by unannounced strangers,” said the man at the gate.

  “You will let me in now,” said Tristan, “or she will not be happy when she finds you have barred my way.”

  “Why should I listen to you?” asked the man.

  “I have urgent business with her and I know she is desperate to see me as well,” said Tristan patiently. “

  Why should she be anxious to see you?” asked the man, “and what right have you to disturb her rest on such a night?”

  “She is my wife,” said Tristan quietly.

  “I am sure she is,” laughed the man, “in your dreams.” The conversation had caught the attention of a man standing further inside the courtyard.

  “What is all this noise?” asked the newcomer.

  “Nothing sir,” said the other man, “just a pair of gate crashers who will not wait until morning to bother the Professor.”

  The newcomer looked over the pair of men standing out in the rain and said, “you had better let them in now or the Professor will be very unhappy.”

  “Yes sir,” said the guard, “but why?”

  “She will not be happy to find out you have left her husband standing out in the rain,” said the other man. The gate opened and Tristan and Geff squeezed inside out of the storm.

  The guard looked apologetically at the pair, “I beg your pardon sirs, but it was all in the name of security.”

  “No harm done,” said Tristan, then he faced the man who had convinced the guard to let them in, “Raye! It is good to see you.”

  “And you sir,” said the boy, “I see Geff is still alive though not free of your influence.” All three laughed.

  “Please lead the way,” said Tristan. The student nodded and trotted off in the direction of Arora’s chambers.

  Arora sat alone in her room quietly practicing a new song on her instrument when a knock came at the door. It must be important for her to be disturbed at such an hour. She opened the door and soon found herself set upon by a very wet and cold man. It took her a moment to realize this was no attack, but arms hungry from months of separation. She nearly wept with joy as she returned her husband’s zealous greeting. She recovered herself enough to ask her guests to come in. She greeted Geff warmly. Raye excused himself and returned to his duties. “I am sorry we cannot stay long,” said Tristan, “but at least I can see you for tonight and part of tomorrow. The Lady has me touring much of the Eastern world and I must make haste, but I had see you.”

  He told her of their errand and she replied, “there are indeed dark and evil things lurking in the wild places of Syre. I am also aware of several villages and outlying lords that are thinking about revolting against the King; it also grows dangerous to travel for fear of bandits upon the road. It is truly a perilous time and I fear things shall swiftly grow worse. As for aid, we have many students learning the sword, but we can only send a small force, inexperienced at that. But we will do what we must, even if our army falls short of a dozen soldiers.” Tristan smiled at her forced mirth.

  “Geff,” said Arora kindly, “will you go find Raye and ask him to find you quarters for the night?” The boy stood, bowed, and disappeared from the room. Arora and Tristan spent much of the night deep in talk and just enjoying what little time they had together. In the morning, they ate breakfast together and then Tristan had to be on the road once more. Arora cried as she said farewell to Tristan, but even this brief visit lightened her heart. They rode for Arca.

  Upon their road, they occasionally saw shadows ghosting silently by in the darkness but nothing entered their camp. Tristan had no further encounters with bandits, though the sight of two well-armed men in raggedy clothing was not an enticing lure for would-be thieves seeking easier or richer prey. Without incident they arrived in Arca, the capital city of the country of the same name. Tristan hoped Bristol was still about the palace though the way things had been going of late he doubted the man was still a part of the Order. Instead of applying to the King, he asked immediately for Bristol. The guard sent a servant running for the man and he appeared soon after. Bristol smiled at the sight of Tristan, though worry and fatigue were plain upon his face. He nodded to the guard who let the pair pass.

  “It is good to see you!” said Bristol, “it has been a difficult time to serve in such a place. Lyre has taken over my position with the Order. He is even worse than he ever used to be. Before he was simply a pompous fool, now he acts as if he is one step below the King. His obsequiousness has been replaced by viciousness. It is a fell sign that the Order would let such as him resume his former glory after such a dismal failure. I am glad I am no longer in their service.”

  “It still cannot be easy,” said Tristan, “to have been tossed aside so easily and also to serve daily with such a man. He was bad enough when last I knew him. I cannot imagine him now.” They retreated to Bristol’s quarters and Tristan told of his mission.

  Bristol said, “it seems ill news comes from everywhere in these dark days. The King is still lost in his vain pursuit of wisdom or its imposters. His generals are left to their own devices. I can introduce you to them, though you will still need the King’s permission to command his soldiers. I will do what I can. There are evil things abroad in the land, crime is increasing, and the odd village and a few lesser nobles are thinking about open revolt. It seems the same story you are hearing everywhere.” Tristan nodded glumly. Business done, they switched to more enjoyable topics until it was time for the evening meal. They made their way down to the banquet hall and found places in the back. Again, they were ignored for most of the meal. Tristan kept a close eye out for Lyre, but it seemed he was busy elsewhere. As they were leaving to return to Bristol’s quarters they very nearly ran into the man.

  “You!” screamed the startled Lyre, “how dare you show your face here. You are a wanted man.” He smiled evilly, “and I can finally arrest you as you deserve.”

  “Arrest me?” said Tristan, “by whose authority?”

  “The Legion has a warrant out for your arrest; they want your head,” said Lyre joyfully.

  “What have I done?” asked Tristan.

  “There are a variety of charges, but most of them can be summed up with the word treason,” said Lyre enjoying every moment.

  “I do not recognize the authority of the Legion,” said Tristan, “and while it was the Order, I served faithfully.”

  “Who cares if you recognize their authority,” said Lyre, “they are an authority and they have deemed you a criminal worthy of death. I am sure the King will see it my way and allow me to send your head to my masters.”

  “I have broken no law or oath,” said Tristan, “and the Lady of Astoria is the only authority I answer to unless I break Oath. Even then I must face justice under the laws of the land in which I committed said crime. You will not take me.” There was a rasping of metal on metal as Lyre drew his sword, but he soon found three blades to his one as all three Brethren bared their blades. Several guards rushed into the scene before things escalated to bloo
dshed.

  “Put up your weapons,” said the Captain, “what is the meaning of this?”

  “I was placing this man under arrest,” said Lyre sheathing his blade, “and he resisted.”

  “He has no authority to arrest me,” said Tristan, “we were merely preparing to defend ourselves should he choose to push things.”

  “The King will hear your case on the morrow,” said the Captain, “tonight I hope you enjoy your stay in the dungeon.” All four were disarmed and unceremoniously hauled off to the dungeon. Lyre was placed in a separate cell as he might have strangled Tristan had he been allowed access to him. No one slept well and all wondered how the King would rule on such a case.

  Morning came, and after a dismal breakfast of dry bread and stale water they were hauled before the entire court unshaven and unwashed. The King sat upon his throne and the whole court looked on. That two of his advisors and a couple of strangers would behave in such a way provided some much needed excitement to the tedious business that usually was a day at court. The King was delighted to hear the case. First Lyre was allowed to speak, “Your Majesty, it is with great pleasure that I chanced upon this vile perpetrator and now have the chance to bring him to justice. However, he was willing to resist and as such stirred up the excellent royal guard, which required the immediate incarceration of us all. The Legion has justly called for this man’s head and I beg your Majesty to grant said request in return for their undying gratitude. He is a vile traitor and need not trouble you further. Please allow me the privilege of arresting him and sending him to a swift execution.”

  The King, bored by Lyre’s recitation called on Bristol to explain his side of things, “Sire, it has been my privilege to serve with this man both in the Order and the Brethren. Lyre has ever been at odds with him and tried once before to have him charged with treason only to fail miserably and be stripped of rank and banished to a training cadre. The Order has recently suffered a drastic shift in mission and name and now calls itself the Legion of the Serpent. I am no longer a part of such a vile group and rejoice in my freedom. The Legion is far from just and has no right to call for the arrest of a man so unassociated with them in their current incarnation. Tristan left the Order a well respected and honored man. It is only with the change of the Order to the Legion that nefarious men now call for his arrest on charges as false as Lyre’s sincerity.”

  The King was greatly amused by Bristol’s monologue and now called upon Tristan to answer for himself, “your Highness, I do not know what the Legion has against me or the Brethren, but I do know Lyre has a personal grudge and is not objective in his judgments. If you so declare me an enemy of the state, spare these two. They were merely trying to protect me against this pompous fool.”

  “That is all you wish to say?” asked the King in surprise.

  “Yes, your Majesty,” said Tristan.

  “Then here is my decision,” said the King, “if you wish to arrest this man Lyre, you must do so elsewhere. I find no cause for his detention or execution. As long as he is within the bounds of Arca you have no jurisdiction over him. If you wish to push the matter, challenge him to a duel or forever hold your peace.” Lyre flushed red at the king’s words, though whether in anger at the King not using his title or over Tristan’s escape or both, no one knew.

  Lyre said, “let it be so witnessed that I hereby challenge this coward to a duel to the death.” Tristan, not surprised by such a move hesitated. If he won, the Legion might use it as an excuse to declare war on the Brethren. Losing was most definitely not an option. He could decline, but that would not do his mission any good in the eyes of the King.

  Tristan said, “let it be duly noted that I will accept this challenge only if Lyre agrees that it is between himself and I. This is not a clash between the Legion and the Brethren.”

  “So noted,” said Lyre triumphantly, he could almost taste the sweetness of victory. The King nodded his assent and the men received back their weapons and the crowd formed a circle in which the combatants were enclosed. If there was one thing they liked more than intrigue, it was bloodshed. Tristan sighed as he looked at the bloodthirsty crowd but took his place in the circle. An official was drawn from the crowd and the pair faced each other. Lyre smiled like a cat eyeing a cornered mouse; Tristan looked grim. The official called for their attention, went over the rules, and gave the signal to start. Lyre lunged in almost immediately, slashing like a madman. Tristan held him at bay. Frustration welled up in Lyre as he fought as hard as he could but could not get a single blow past Tristan’s defenses. Lyre kept up the onslaught, but soon grew weary; he was not in top fighting form. Tristan was hardly breaking a sweat; Lyre looked ready to pass out. As Lyre slowed down, Tristan moved in for the kill. If the man was as skilled a swordsman as he thought he was no one could rival him, but he was far from his fond imaginings. Soon the man was on the floor and out of the fight. With a couple well-placed blows, Tristan had rendered him helpless but did not drive home the killing stroke. Lyre sat on the floor waiting for imminent death, but it never came. After the final blow, Tristan wiped his blade and returned it to its sheath.

  Lyre stared in disbelief and then wailed, “you must finish! If you do not finish I declare you a coward and a disgrace.”

  Tristan turned back to face him, “there is no cowardice or disgrace in sparing a life.”

  “I deserve an honorable death!” screamed Lyre.

  Tristan said, “then you must seek it elsewhere.” The man seemed to go mad with frustration. He picked up his discarded sword and rushed at Tristan’s turned back. Tristan turned but had no time to draw his blade. He saw his own death written in Lyre’s face, but before he could strike the fatal blow, Lyre’s mad rush was cut short. Lyre gasped in pain as he fell to the floor, clasping the blade thrust through his own chest.

  In a raspy wail he cried, “it cannot end like this…” And he said no more. The wide-eyed Geff retrieved his blade and wiped the blood on the dead man’s cloak. He then sat down upon the floor and wept. Tristan was almost as wide-eyed as his apprentice, but gently raised him to his feet and escorted him out of the center of the crowd. The courtiers erupted in applause; seldom did they see such interesting antics. The three retreated to Bristol’s quarters.

  “It is never easy to kill a man,” said Tristan with his arm about the boy‘s shoulder, “even when it is absolutely necessary.”

  The boy looked up through reddened eyes, “was it necessary?”

  “If you had not, it would be me lying dead instead of Lyre,” said Tristan quietly, “he forced your hand. It was of his own doing; you merely did your duty. It should never be easy, but you must never let that stop you from doing what you must.” They sat quietly for some time and allowed the boy the time he needed to recover from the shock and the terror of recent events. Eventually a servant came and summoned them to the King. They bowed formally upon entering his presence.

  “What has brought you hither and spawned such strange events?” said the King.

  “I come on behalf of the Lady of Astoria,” said Tristan, “she seeks knowledge and aid in the coming darkness.”

  “Yes,” said the King, “all the world seems to be falling towards disaster. Knowledge you must seek from your colleagues and my generals. Aid I will send when the time comes for us to stand together or fail separately.” Tristan bowed. The audience was at an end. They made their farewell courtesies and left the King’s presence and went in search of his generals. His commanding officers had been greatly impressed by Tristan’s skills with a blade and were equally ready to follow their King’s orders should the need arise. They repeated much of what Bristol had said about the evils stirring in Arca. By late afternoon, Tristan and Geff had bid farewell to Bristol and were once again on the road.

  The next leg of their journey would take them away from the coastal countries and into the three tiny nations that bor
dered western Arca and Syre, then they would ride to Vespera, and finally home. The three smaller countries within the Eastern Realms were rather odd in that they were not so much countries as they were conglomerations of independent villages. Each village had a duly elected representative and each representative had one vote. The representatives elected a leader for themselves who settled disputes, moderated debates, and voted only to break any ties. It was a strange system for the time, but it seemed to work for the miniscule nations who chose to maintain it. As such, Tristan could not present himself to the King or absolute ruler of the three countries; he could however, apply to the elected Leader who could then call a meeting of the Representatives and then there could be a vote.

  The first of the three countries was Capna. After some inquiry, they located the village where the Leader resided. As the two scruffy strangers rode into the small hamlet on their shaggy horses, much curiosity was aroused amongst the villagers. They did not see strangers often (even though their village housed the Leader, this may demonstrate the relative importance of the three tiny realms in the eyes of the world), and strangers as travel worn as these two must be up to no good or bring dire news. Tristan smiled as he heard whispers of thievery, seduction, and the end of the world. Who needed court intrigue when the village rumor mill could produce just as much mystery and excitement?

  They dismounted outside the inn and asked after the Leader’s whereabouts. The innkeeper smiled and pointed towards a well-dressed man sitting alone at a table with an empty mug in front of him. The innkeeper said, “you will find His Grace holding court in here most evenings.” It seemed that appearing at court was not of major importance to the villagers. Tristan and Geff wandered over to the table and greeted the venerable Leader.

  He motioned for them to take a seat across from him, “what news of the world my strange friends?”

  “We were hoping you could help us out with that,” said Tristan, “we have been sent to a number of lands and Kings to inquire after tidings of evil in this dire hour and also to ask what aid they are willing to offer should war break forth upon the world.”

  The man’s mouth fell open at such pronouncements of doom and said, “things are a bit riskier these days if one is wishing to travel abroad after dark. There are rumors of evil things in the deeps of the forest and shifty characters are traveling openly upon the road. We have increased the patrols that ride the major roads and enforce our laws; they have seen an increase in the number of ‘incidents’ they are called upon to investigate. Otherwise, we have no great tidings to report. What of the rest of the world?”

  Tristan said, “it is much the same elsewhere. Rumors of monsters, bandits, and revolts abound. The very air seems to stir with evil. The world itself seems to sit on the verge of darkness, waiting for the final plunge. That is why the Lady of Astoria is sending men into all known lands to ask for tidings and what aid they are willing to send to the last, desperate fight.” The man gasped at mention of Astoria. Few of his people had ever left their own villages, let alone traveled to such a mysterious and almost mythical country. Some of the Brethren had occasionally passed through the lesser parts of the Eastern Realms, but were considered little more than traveling teachers or musicians by the locals and much less important than the price of pigs or the morrow’s weather. Although they welcomed such diversions when they could get them.

  “What are you asking of us?” asked the Leader cautiously.

  “Only that you consider what you are willing to do should the worst befall the world and word reach you that the situation is dire,” said Tristan, “your patrols may be little more than farmers armed with bows and axes, but in the last fight against the utter dark, even a boy with a stick is better than nothing.”

  “But what of our farms and villages?” asked the Leader, “we must not leave them undefended.”

  Tristan smiled sadly, “should ‘the worst’ happen and we fail to drive it back it will little matter whether you defend your homes or not. The darkness will engulf you sooner or later if all else fails.”

  The man nodded grimly, “I see your point. I shall call a meeting of the Representatives immediately and you may plead your case with them.” He motioned with his hand and a small boy came running up. He said to the lad, “get the message out that a Meeting is called for tomorrow at noon. Go!” The boy did his best at a serious salute then dashed off to pass the message round the village and send riders off to the other villages in question. The man smiled fondly after the retreating child. “My son,” he said simply. As night fell, the villagers crowded into the inn to see what the strangers had to say. They enjoyed news from abroad, even if it never seemed to affect their little corner of the world. They were especially eager as they had heard of the impending Meeting, a thing which was rarely done save in emergencies and at the Annual Meeting.

  Tristan tried to keep talk away from nasty rumors and spent much of his time telling ancient tales or discussing local events. After an enjoyable evening of food and conversation, they slipped off to bed. The next morning found the Representatives assembling already upon the village green and the eager villagers staking out favorable spots to watch. Precisely at noon, all of the Representatives were accounted for and Tristan repeated his oft said words to the gathered men. To a man they voted in favor of sending whatever aid they could scrape up should the need arise. Tristan thanked them in the name of the Lady and they set off once more for the next little country upon their road.

  Alaria was the next of the tiny nations and had already assembled its Representatives by the time Tristan arrived (rumor traveled faster than unicorns it seemed). They heard Tristan’s case and did as Capna had. As the day’s proceedings were winding down, a rider arrived from the third of the three tiny nations giving Tristan his answer before ever he rode thither. It appeared all three countries would happily send what help they could in a crisis. Though Tristan felt the need for haste, he allowed the excited villagers to convince him to stay the night. Tomorrow he would ride for Vespera and then for home. A small crowd had assembled from not only the surrounding villages but also from the other countries (it was not a great distance) and an impromptu festival was about to take place. A bonfire was lit upon the green, villagers put on their best clothes, copious amounts of food was brought forth by the ladies, and several of the men produced an impressive array of instruments and began to play. Geff was popular among the young ladies who thought him quite the dashing young hero (every woman loves a man with a sword); he danced with them eagerly, but when asked if he was interested in settling down he blushed profusely and sought Tristan’s protection.

  Tristan said, “you may be a great warrior and scholar, but it will take far more than that to understand women. I will not protect you from them, however.” He laughed at the boy’s discomfiture, but he would have to learn someday how to deal with people, especially attractive young ladies. The girls giggled at the bashfulness of such a theoretically fearless man. The evening passed most pleasantly even so and was a welcome diversion from the rigors of travel. But early the next morning they were once again on the road.

  Vespera was a small country west of the Eastern Realms. Tristan was quite eager to see Conrad again; his friend was the Lady’s envoy to the Queen of Vespera. The weather had turned warm and the first buds and early plants were starting to break out of winter’s grasp. Even an impatient bird was heard occasionally piping in some distant thicket. It was a pleasant time to travel, except when the spring rains came in earnest. In the midst of such a storm the weary travelers reached the gates of Lorna, the capital city of Vespera. Tristan applied directly to Conrad, though he knew the Queen personally, there was some awkwardness between them. Conrad met them at the gates smiling, “welcome back, I hope you have better tidings than I have to tell.” They handed their mounts to the waiting grooms and followed Conrad into the castle. He told them the same things they had h
eard everywhere else. Conrad was not surprised to hear of Tristan’s tidings or the reason for his visit. “I am sure the Queen will give the Lady her full support; though this would be unnecessary had you become King of Vespera,” laughed he.

  Tristan gave him a mortified look and Geff became very interested in the story. “I will tell you later,” sighed Tristan. They went directly to the Queen as Conrad thought it appropriate, though Tristan would much rather have sent Geff alone and remained safely hidden in his quarters. They bowed themselves into the Queen’s presence and she returned their greeting with a regal nod.

  “Come to beg for the Kingship?” asked the Queen lightly. Now it was Tristan’s turn to blush and Geff looked ready to explode anticipating the story. Conrad grinned like an idiot.

  Conrad cleared his throat and said, “Majesty, my mortified colleague has come on business from the Lady.”

  Tristan gave Conrad a significant look and said to the Queen, “Majesty it is always a pleasure to see you, but I am still unable to accept such an offer and ever shall be.” He bowed respectfully and then proceeded to outline his mission.

  The Queen nodded gravely, “I suspected as much when your presence became known to me. Tell the Lady she shall have our full aid should it be required.” Tristan bowed in thanks. She then dismissed them and attended to other business.

  Walking back to Conrad’s quarters, Tristan finally put Geff out of his misery and told him the full tale which was far less scandalous that the youth had anticipated. They spent the balance of the night with Conrad, discussing the incessant evil that seemed everywhere to be lurking just beyond sight. After dinner they took a stroll in the castle gardens.

  Tristan was somehow not surprised to happen upon the Legion’s duly appointed representative. He sneered as he approached the small group, “Conrad, I see you have acquired a procession. How much are you paying them? By their clothes, I would say not enough.” He laughed at his own insipid joke.

  Conrad patiently replied, “they are simply friends who have come on business to the Queen. It need not concern you.”

  “All things within the bounds of Vespera concern me,” said the man, “because they concern the Legion. These men look like troublemakers, much like yourself. The day is coming when you will not openly display your filthy allegiance. Mark my words.”

  “So noted,” sighed Conrad, “will that make you go away?”

  The man smiled mirthlessly, “I am ever present wherever treachery and evil hide.”

  “That would explain your membership in the Legion,” smiled Conrad. The man reached for his sword but thought better of it when he saw that it would be three against one. “You are lucky tonight,” said the man turning to go, “but in the future you may not be.”

  “I do not believe in luck,” said Conrad to the retreating figure, which made no answer. Conrad shivered, “they were bad enough when they were the Order. Now that they are the Legion I feel like bathing after simply passing them in the hall. Whatever happened to Lyre?”

  Tristan smiled grimly, “he received his rank back after the changes within the Order and was serving as the Legion’s envoy to Arca. He was recently bested in a duel.”

  “I cannot say that I am too sorry,” said Conrad, “though I do wish he had come to a change of heart during his exile into ignominy.”

  They awoke early the next morning and headed directly for Astoria. The journey was uneventful and the Lady was eager to hear their news. As her agents returned form every corner of the world, the news was much the same as Tristan and Geff had discovered. While every country was willing to send aid if absolutely necessary, each had so much to do just managing the little flare-ups and increasing chaos within their own borders that nothing but ultimate disaster would draw them from the confines of their own realms. The thought of the oldest and most terrible of the evil dragons with a grudge against humankind was not a joyful thought, but that was an inevitability they must face when it came.

  A sample story from ‘Over the Hills and Far Away:’

  There was an old woman

  Lived under a hill,

  And if she’s not gone

  She lives there still.