The Dragon Star (Realms of Shadow and Grace: Volume 1)

by G. L. Breedon

  The rain finally stopped at midmorning, and the pilgrims decided to spend an hour or two drying out before heading down the road again. Kadmallin had helped collect branches from fallen trees in the surrounding woods, stripping back the bark of the largest pieces to find drier wood to chop for tinder. After assisting in starting a central campfire, he made a smaller one near the tent he shared with Sketkee.

  Kadmallin put his back to the flames as he watched the pilgrims slowly packing up the campsite and drying their clothes beside the large blaze between the wagons. As his eyes scanned the roadside, he ruminated about his exchange of words with Sketkee the prior day. She continued to surprise him. So very much like her people as a whole, but unique in curious ways. To steal the artifact struck him as deeply irrational, an act he would never have expected from her when they traveled together two decades ago. She had changed. Possibly the roots of this difference began with the shift in her endeavors. He had known her as an ambassador, someone skilled in the arts of delicate communication, schooled in the histories of many lands, and fluent in multiple languages. With her father’s passing and her return to the Sun Realm, she had altered her path and redirected it unexpectedly.

  He received several letters from her throughout the years, and had replied in kind, each informing the other of the progress of their individual lives in the absence of the other. While he took up a position as captain of the targas in Vendau, a middle-sized town in the north of Punderra, she abandoned her station as ambassador and returned to the Kidjat University in Taknaht, the capital of the Sun Realm, to study the various schools of natural philosophy. She spent fifteen years buried in libraries and laboratories, her descriptions of which left Kadmallin’s imagination alight with images of books stacked in endless rows and unfathomable equipment turned to the investigation of nature’s inner workings. Rakthors always advanced beyond the knowledge of the other realms, until they collapsed back upon themselves in inevitable war. It made them a people of severe contrasts. Intelligent, purposeful, insistent that rationality guide them, but frequently consumed by the two emotions they did comprehend — fear and anger.

  Had fear or anger driven Sketkee to steal the artifact? Her mind demanded answers when presented with enigmas, and the artifact represented a great mystery, one nearly as intriguing as the dreams and the new star that set the pilgrims they traveled with on the road. Could her theft of the artifact and the dreams and the pilgrimage be connected somehow? Sketkee would deride him for conjecture in the absence of evidence. Nothing concrete linked the artifact and the dreams, but Sketkee leaning of it in the Sun Realm at the same time the dreams arrived in the Iron Realm struck him as an interesting coincidence. She had a point, though. The human mind did tend to see patterns where none existed. People commonly read meaning into random events. A flock of birds overhead might portend a bad omen. A broken glass might presage death. A found coin could mean good health. Or the reverse for all of them. Different superstitions for different lands.

  His own mind eschewed superstition. He had seen enough lands and enough believers in various gods to avoid holding firm to any faith of his own. Time spent with a godless rakthor only confirmed his predisposition. Of course, they did not discuss their lack of faith with the pilgrims. The faithful would not understand their skepticism. He and Sketkee might argue over the cause of the dreams and the star, he favoring a conspiracy of dark seers and she preferring the numerical probability of random chance and mass delusion — but neither expected to find a god of any sort behind the events they witnessed.

  Kadmallin’s eyes caught motion to the east of the road, the sight of three approaching travelers chasing away considerations of dreams and gods and the artifact. Two of the pilgrim men packing the camp noticed the strangers and walked to greet them. New pilgrims commonly joined the band during the day along the road. The three strangers talked with the two men from the pilgrim band at the edge of the campsite. He could not hear what they said, but recognized the broad gestures of the taller pilgrim as he questioned the three newcomers.

  Kadmallin noted the appearance of the three strangers. They wore clothes familiar to any farmer in the land, but their dry shirts and breeches indicated that they must have managed to hide from the worst of the rain. The men carried long knives, not uncommon among pilgrims as the roads presented grave dangers to those unarmed. Something about them reminded him of the three men he had sent away with a pouch of coins a few weeks previously. These were not the same men. Their sizes did not correspond, but the way they moved, their calm manner and easy stance, made his neck itch. Pilgrims were usually less confident when joining a new group, especially when so few in number.

  Kadmallin grabbed his socks and boots as he tapped the side of the tent.

  “Best come out.”

  He heard Sketkee stir as he slid his boots on and laced them up. She emerged to stand naked behind the tent, the pale light from the clouded sky and the warm glow of the fire casting competing bluish and orange shimmers across the dark green scales of her flesh as her tail flicked out behind her. Rakthors found no rationality in modesty. The sight of her nude, her smooth ovoid skull, her taut muscles beneath alien skin, her flat and beastless chest, the hairlessness of her female region, her slender tail — alive like another symbiotic creature — all aroused in him a conflicting cascade of desires — to run, to hold her, to gape in disgust, to pull her by the hand back into the tent and satiate the curiosity at the heart of his unending fascination with her.

  “New arrivals.” Kadmallin pointed toward the men at the edge of the camp.

  He looked away as he handed her the dried clothes from the makeshift rack of sticks. He pointed to the newly arrived pilgrims as she dressed, using the tent to shield her body from the campsite. She stared over the top of the canvas at the men.

  “Ah, yes. It makes sense now.” Sketkee’s tail wrapped around her waist as she slid her legs into her pants. Rakthors did not divide their manner of dress among their sexes. All wore simple functional pants and shirts. He had seen her once in a dress for a formal ball in her ambassadorial capacity decades ago. She had been uncharacteristically unpleasant the entire evening.

  “What makes sense?” Kadmallin stood to his feet, strapping on the belt with the two swords.

  “The number of graves and the unburied bodies when we arrived.” Sketkee pulled a black cotton shirt over her shoulders and stepped from behind the tent.

  “What about them?” Kadmallin looked to the rows of earthen mounds, partially washed away by two days of precipitation.

  “The pilgrims did not depart before completing their task.” Sketkee tightened the drawstrings of her pants.

  “I see.” Kadmallin nodded as he turned to watch the newly arrived men who were certainly not pilgrims. “They left bait for the next pilgrim band. They likely only waited because of the heavy rain last night. Hard to fight in heavy rain. And now the rain has stopped, and the pilgrims are half-dressed and packing to leave. Not as great an advantage as a night assault, but good enough.” The three new arrivals chatted easily with the two pilgrims, the men laughing at an unheard jest.

  “I will need my sword.” Sketkee extended her open hand.

  “Are you certain?” Kadmallin placed his hand on the hilt of the second sword, the one he never drew to use himself.

  “These imitation pilgrims will be joined by their companions soon enough. You will need help in killing them.”

  “Don’t let the battle provoke you.” Kadmallin pulled the sword free of its scabbard and tossed it to Sketkee. “It’ll frighten the real pilgrims.”

  Sketkee snatched the hilt of the sword from the air. “I will restrain myself as appropriate.”

  “Good.”

  “Kadmallin.”

  “Yes?”

  “Take care.”

  Sketkee sprinted toward the men at the edge of the camp as a glint of metal glimmered in the hazy daylight. One of the newly arrived men held a long knife in an upraised hand. As Kadma
llin dashed to follow Sketkee, he heard the pounding of many footsteps approaching through the woods. He shouted the alarm, calling the pilgrims to defend themselves, and wondered at his companion’s last words. Odd that she should voice the concern for him that he felt for her.

  Time did not allow for more consideration of Sketkee’s statement. She attacked the three knife-wielding men, and he rushed to help as dozens more bandits emerged from the shadowed forest to assault the camp, and terrified screams and cries for help filled the air.

  To continue reading the Philosopher story arena follow this link.

  To continue reading Kadmallin’s storyline follow this link.

  THE THRONE

  TIN-TSU

  JASMINE, HYACINTH, and clovatt permeated the air as hummingbirds hovered to suck the nectar from the petals of nearby lilies that lined the stone path, a few daring to hang above the lotus flowers blooming in the gazing pool. Tin-Tsu ignored the bees buzzing around him as he disregarded Tonken-Wu and the retinue of wardens, attendants, and servants trailing a respectful distance behind him. Rin-Lahee did not find the presence of the bees so easy to overlook. She swatted at one that came too close to the folds of her hair, expertly arranged in several layers of ascending curls.

  “If you anger them, they will sting you.” Tin-Tsu laughed.

  “If they sting me, I will squash them.” Rin-Lahee adjusted her hair with her free hand. Her other hand sat atop Tin-Tsu’s, her elbow entwined through his, both their forearms held parallel with the ground, maintaining the appropriate distance and intimacy for a courting couple.

  Tin-Tsu laughed again, and Rin-Lahee smiled in return. He realized, much to his continued surprise, that he quite enjoyed his time with his future bride. A woman possessed of both intelligence and charm, she made the conversations that could have been awkward and unendurable into pleasant respites in his long and conflict-ridden days. She held the additional advantage of being very beautiful. He found that while her womanliness did not arouse his desires, a smile from a lovely face did make the day’s cares fade, if only briefly.

  He needed momentary adjournments from the burdens of his station, and his walks with Rin-Lahee, while intended to help acclimate them both to their future life together, also gave him an opportunity to consider that life in greater depth. His decision to accept the counsel of Kao-Rhee and his mother and the rest of his advisers regarding the necessity of a marriage to Rin-Lahee in order to stabilize the fortunes of the ascendancy and the nation still troubled him. He saw the heartless logic of the matter, the need to solidify the familial ties that provided the power to rule, especially in a period of protracted war. However, this presumptive nuptial came at the cost of vacating his long held and devoutly adhered-to vows. He felt positive the power of Ni-Kam-Djen had saved him from death at his coronation and that his god’s intercession hinged upon Tin-Tsu’s fidelity to his faith. If Ni-Kam-Djen might move falling stones to save him and his subjects as reward for his piety, how might The True God respond if Tin-Tsu wavered from the path of the righteous?

  “You are thinking about your vows again, aren’t you?” Rin-Lahee’s voice called his eye toward her smiling lips.

  “How did you know?” Tin-Tsu sighed. She had begun to read his moods better than his family in the weeks since the coronation. This pleased him, in that it suggested a future wife sensitive to his state of mind, but worried him in the loss of yet another aspect of his privacy he had taken for granted.

  “Your eyes have the look of seeing invisible things at an impossible distance.” Rin-Lahee turned away, her smile fading. “It is hard, but it is the right choice.”

  Tin-Tsu could not be certain if she attempted to persuade him or herself of the rightness of the course they followed together. Probably both.

  “Vows are not usually broken without repentance.” Tin-Tsu watched a dragonfly land on a lotus leaf in a nearby gazing pond. “We have seen the greatness of Ni-Kam-Djen’s protection. I have no desire to see the power of his wrath.”

  “You could make prayers of atonement each night of our marriage. Surely that would appease.” Rin-Lahee’s lips curved mischievously.

  “It might appease my god, but I doubt it would set me in the good graces of my future wife.” Tin-Tsu saw the dragonfly take flight but quickly lost sight of it among the many flowerbeds of the palace garden.

  They walked in silence for a time. With each step along the stone-lined path through manicured trees, trimmed lawns, and geometrically arranged rows of flowers competing in color, he noticed her mood shift, her body tense, her palm upon the top of his hand dampen.

  “It is a strange time to live such strange lives.” Rin-Lahee watched a hummingbird buzz around the flowers of a rose bush.

  “A monastery priest made zhan in the span of weeks. A young tahneff from the provinces set to marry one zhan suddenly marrying his brother. Strange times indeed.” Tin-Tsu observed one of the dragonflies alight upon the shoulder of Rin-Lahee’s embroidered silk robe, apparently mistaking the flowery curves of red and yellow for some natural bloom. Unsatisfied with what it found, the insect departed in a blur of tiny wings.

  “I meant more the events beyond our own personal lives.” Rin-Lahee frowned, seeming uncertain how to proceed. “I mean that we have seen, as you say, the protection of our god, The True God, Ni-Kam-Djen, but we have also seen things that openly contradict his power throughout the dominion and the realm. The dreams. The star. This prophet and her pilgrims. It is confusing to try and understand what it all means. Do not you find this? Or does your faith shield you from uncertainty?”

  “My faith guides me while Ni-Kam-Djen shields me.” Tin-Tsu sighed, feeling the hidden weight of her question settle around his shoulders. “But I appreciate your concerns. Beyond the war, there is little else my advisers of the council discuss. They insist that I take a firmer hand with the pilgrims. That I reauthorize the militias.”

  “And will you?” Rin-Lahee turned to look up at him, her large eyes filled with curiosity and what he took to be supportive concern.

  “I do not think it wise to command the slaughter of my own people for the loss of their faith in the face of extraordinary events.” Tin-Tsu frowned. “During the First Great Dominion of the Iron Realm, zhan after zhan struggled to bring the whole population under the bough of the great tree of our faith, to have the entire realm worship The True God, Ni-Kam-Djen. In frustration, Zhan Lin Zu-Gi issued a proclamation outlawing all other faiths, imposing the worship of Ni-Kam-Djen on all people. A rebellion formed within a year, and within ten years, the First Great Dominion fell to sectarian wars. During the Second Great Dominion, Zhan Wan Tan-Wu issued a similar proclamation, giving the added enforcement of public whippings and imprisonment for those who failed to comply or who were caught with contraband texts and objects of worship. Rebellion began in months, and within five years, the Second Great Dominion had fallen to sectarian wars. Zhan Vay To-Zhee of the Third Great Dominion went further than his predecessors, fielding armed militias to search homes, destroy temples, and kill in the street those who refused to convert. His rule lasted a further nine months before the collapse of the Third Great Dominion. Each time we try to force our faith upon the various believers of the realm, it dooms our rule. Were there only two faiths to contend for dominance, it might be possible. But we see how the war with the Tanshen Dominion drags on over a schism within a single faith.”

  “What then will you do?” Rin-Lahee asked.

  “End this war and preserve our faith in the face of an unknown force.” Tin-Tsu hoped that his best efforts proved sufficient to the task. He had begun to doubt his ability to reconcile the religious and political aspects of the situation.

  “Do you believe, as the priests tell us, that the dreams and the star and all the rest are products of dark seers with unholy intentions?” Rin-Lahee brushed back a fallen strand of hair, setting it expertly in place among its companions.

  “I do not know.” Tin-Tsu considered the question again as he had
every day since the arrival of the new star weeks ago. “It is easy to proclaim your god to be The True God and all others false when no explicit action of any god announces their existence. It becomes more difficult when people across the realm share the same dream of a star that one night shines suddenly in the sky. Ni-Kam-Djen granted us a miracle at my coronation. I do not know what to make of the other events.”

  “If there were more than one god, what might happen if they made themselves known all at once?” Rin-Lahee blushed as she glanced away from him. “I do not intend blasphemy, but who else has a priest as her future husband to pester with theological concerns?”

  “It is no blasphemy, at least not to my ears.” Tin-Tsu managed a thin smile. “However, it might be best if you reserved such queries for me rather than the temple priests. As to what will happen, we must put our faith in Ni-Kam-Djen and wait to see.”

  “A sensible suggestion.” Rin-Lahee smiled up at him.

  Staring into her eyes, he wished he could feel for her what he knew a prospective husband should. What he had felt once for another. A passion that had driven him into exile and the cold walls of a mountain temple. Different walls confined him now, not as easily seen, but more constricting than ever.

  Twin dragonflies darted to hover before Rin-Lahee as they walked, keeping pace with their steps. Tin-Tsu welcomed the distraction from his thoughts as they stopped to watch the multihued insects dance in the air. Rin-Lahee raised a finger toward them, and the more daring of the two lit atop her long, red, lacquered nail. She smiled at the little beast, giggling as two more dragonflies joined the first to float effortlessly around her hand.