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

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The Dragon Star (Realms of Shadow and Grace: Volume 1) Page 70

by G. L. Breedon


  EPISODE SEVEN

  THE WITNESS

  ONDROMEAD

  DAWN BIRDS and a damp beard. Morning songs and a slow drizzle. Ondromead wiped his face as he opened his eyes to find himself lying on a wooden bench beneath low branches, trimmed grass and manicured flowers all around him. He sat up with a start. He did not concern himself with where he might be, but rather that he did not see the boy. Could he have awoken without the boy? Might Hashel have been left behind when whatever powers cast him across the world in his nightly transit? He rubbed his damp face again and looked about him. Gardens of some sort. A palace. One he had seen before. He recognized the ornamental arches of the doorways and the sinuous railings of the balconies. The Daeshen Palace in Tagu-Lan. But where…?

  A rustle of grass drew his attention toward the ground. He bent over to see the boy staring back at him from beneath the bench. The boy blinked, rubbed his eyes, and rolled forward to climb up and sit beside Ondromead.

  “Gave me a start.” Ondromead patted the boy on the back. “Wise to hide from the rain.”

  The boy pushed his damp hair back from his face and pointed to a nearby hall in the palace proper.

  “Yes. Another wise idea.” Ondromead stood, slinging the strap of his satchel over his shoulder. Getting out of the rain would be good. Then maybe they could get their bearings and try to find something to eat. Surely a palace had food left unattended.

  As they walked toward the double-curved arch of the nearest hallway, he noticed that the garden held more than the typical trees, flowers, and ponds. Tents, chairs, and tables sat in clusters along the open patches of grass. A party of some sort? A celebration? What might the Daeshen zhan be celebrating?

  He looked up, trying to judge the time of day, but the gray wash of clouds lent no indication of the sun’s location in its climb across the sky. Morning, but how late or how early, he could not tell.

  They stopped just inside the shelter of the stone walls of the entrance to the corridor, wiping mist from their faces in unison. The hallway stretched back a hundred paces, ending in a large, wooden portal, cross-corridors breaking its path along with doors and open arches. They walked along the hall. He had a vague memory of the palace layout, but in truth, after so many castles and palaces and citadels and temples, they all began to look alike. He had a nebulous inclination that the kitchens might lie somewhere to the south. They turned a corner, only to find themselves staring down a corridor at the gardens again. Odd. Did the palace have two gardens so close? Had he gotten turned around?

  “We seem to have become disoriented.” He looked at the boy. The boy stared up, his expression unreadable. He might have been concerned. He might also simply have been hungry.

  He turned around, the boy at his side, and walked back down the hall. He rounded a corner in hopes of heading in the direction he believed would be south, but instead discovered himself walking out of an archway and onto a balcony overlooking the garden from the second floor.

  Ondromead stood still in the misting rain, his heartbeat ringing in his ears. He had experienced this previously. Not often, but occasionally through the years. He thought of them as daylight dislocations. Abrupt shifts in place while waking, similar to what happened each night as he slept. He reached down and took the boy’s hand. It would be easy to get separated with such displacements taking place so rapidly. As he looked down to the boy, he heard voices from below in the gardens.

  “Everything is ready?”

  “The blocks are all set upon the board.”

  Ondromead looked over the side of the railing. Two men stood under the shelter of another balcony not far away. They were mismatched in all ways. The shorter man wore fine robes while the taller man wore the trousers and shirt of a servant. The shorter man’s neatly trimmed beard highlighted the handsome angles of his face, whereas the taller man’s over-round head made him look distorted by warped glass. Oddly, from the conversation, it appeared the shorter man answered to the taller one.

  “Make certain you are in place at the appropriate time,” the taller man said.

  “I will fulfill my duty,” the shorter man replied.

  “The game is lost with one wrong move,” the larger man said.

  “The stone block will fall with the drinking of the wine,” the smaller man said.

  “I do not doubt that,” the larger man said. “But the piece responsible must be removed from the board as well.”

  “It will be done,” the smaller man said. “I will see to it, as I have sworn.”

  “Good,” the taller man said. “We will not speak again.”

  Before the smaller man could reply, the larger man turned and lumbered into the gardens. The shorter man lingered a moment and then walked through a nearby doorway into the palace halls.

  Ondromead looked down at Hashel to find him staring back up, eyes questioning. While the conversation might not be clear to a young boy, Ondromead had heard enough variations of similar exchanges over the centuries.

  “It seems we are here to witness the slaying of the zhan.” Ondromead tried to keep his voice even, but noticed the sadness that overtook the boy’s features. “Stay close today. The halls seem to project us where they will. It would be best that we are still together come nightfall.”

  Hashel smiled slightly and nodded. The boy had a quick grasp of things. A helpful trait in a … in a what? A companion? Yes. A companion.

  Ondromead turned to walk back into the palace. As he crossed the threshold of the entrance from the balcony, his hand went empty. He looked to see that Hashel no longer stood beside him, and he no longer stood near a balcony. He had walked into a room with tall glass windows between columns of stone, and purple and green tapestries with embroidered images of battles hanging at regular intervals. A long table with chairs filled one side of the room, one chair larger than the others. An audience chamber of some manner. Not large enough to hold more than a hundred people.

  He turned, seeing one closed door and no sign of Hashel. His jaw clenched in anger. Why now? Why should they be separated now? It did not matter. He needed to find Hashel before nightfall and keep the boy close, even if they needed to stay in one place for the remainder of the day.

  He strode toward the door, opened it wide, and walked into yet another part of the palace.

  To continue reading the Witness story arena follow this link.

  To continue reading Ondromead’s storyline follow this link.

  THE WITNESS

  HASHEL

  A SINGLE buttressed stone wall, painted white and circling back upon itself, rose to a domed ceiling, a mosaic of blue and gold and black tiles mimicking a heavenly sky of stars and twin moons. Hashel lowered his eyes, wondering how he had stepped from the gardens to the upper level of what he took to be a temple. And where had Ondromead gone?

  Slender windows of painted glass sat at regular intervals around the curved wall. At one end of the circular chamber, a door led to a hall. At the opposite side, a raised dais held an altar. A few priests and monks set banners and arrangements of flowers about the room. He watched the men below as he tried to figure out if he should leave or wait for Ondromead to arrive. Ondromead would be looking for him. Wouldn’t he? Should he stay in one spot in hopes of being found, or should he search the palace in an attempt to find the old man? Knowing he might not end up where he intended made the decision complicated and annoying.

  He saw two men enter the upper level, not far from him. He did not know who they were, but it would be best not to be seen by them. He slid behind a large statue of a man with a beard. There were several such statues around the temple. He risked a peek at the two men. One wore beautiful white silk robes with a red sash. The other wore black trousers and a hard black leather vest with a sword at his side. Hashel listened closely. He did not think this exchange to be another event they were supposed to witness. Surely Ondromead would be present if it were. However, he had grown accustomed to watching and listening to all that occurred around him
. He momentarily marveled once more at the fact that he could understand the words the men said without ever learning to do so. Would he lose that gift, and the gift of the songs, if he once more spoke aloud his thoughts and feelings as others did? Would he lose them if he lost Ondromead? He could not worry about such questions while the men’s conversation continued.

  “…will be placed at several points around this level and below, my zhan,” the man in black said. “There will also be men posing as guests on the lower level and in the grounds of the gardens during the celebration.”

  “It sounds as though you have everything well in hand,” the man in the robes said.

  Hashel now knew this man to be the zhan of the dominion. He had heard his name before, but could not remember it. He found it hard enough to recall the names of the leaders in the dominion where he had been raised.

  “It would be easier if there were not so many people present for the ceremony, my zhan,” the man in black said. “It is too easy for a potential murderer to blend in among the guests.”

  “Commander, my bride and I cannot be married in a private temple with only a handful in attendance,” the zhan said. “Particularly after the previous attempts on my life.”

  “I would think that to be the very reason you should have a smaller ceremony, my zhan,” the commander said. “It is still not too late. The ceremony could be held in the old private family sanctuary, and you could make only a brief appearance at the celebration. We could use the battle to the south as an excuse.”

  “I must be seen as fearless in the face of these threats.” The zhan put his hand on the stone railing overlooking the temple proper. “There is a danger not simply to my life, but to my ability to rule. If I appear to fear for my life, if I give the impression of weakness, not only will this embolden my enemies, both within court and in the Tanshen Dominion, it will grant my allies pause, and they may turn from me to someone they believe more capable of defending their interests.”

  “I apologize, my zhan.” The commander bowed deeply. “The circumstances are more complicated than I presumed.”

  “Apologies are unnecessary.” The zhan continued to stare down at the temple altar. “I did not fully understand the complexities myself until Councilor Pang Kao-Rhee explained them to me. We are, both of us, new to our positions, and must expect that it will take time to master them.”

  “Unfortunately, my zhan, failure to grasp them may lead to utter catastrophe.” The man in black placed his hands behind his back.

  “It is lamentable that two so unproven should need to accomplish so much.” The zhan smiled at the commander. “There is something else you will be charged with accomplishing as well, which will vex you, I am sure.”

  “I am yours to command, Your Ascendancy,” the commander said.

  “This battle in the south is the first of many to come.” The zhan turned to look at the commander. “The war will be re-inflamed. I will need to lead the coming battles, which will leave me vulnerable to attack once more. However, as I go, my new wife will be left here in the palace. And if she should be with child, she will be an even greater target than myself. When I depart, I wish for you to remain here to safeguard the future zhan consort from harm.”

  “My zhan…” The commander brought his hands from behind his back in a gesture of consternation and pleading.

  “I can defend myself, if required.” The zhan raised a hand to quiet the commander’s objections. “As you have seen. And I trust in Ni-Kam-Djen to protect me if I fail. As you have also seen.”

  The commander lowered his hands and his head.

  “I do not know what I have seen, my zhan.” The commander ran a finger down a thin scar along his right cheek. “I can believe The True God reached down his hand to stay the falling rubble the day of your coronation, but the night of the attack in your chambers, I do not understand how it was possible.”

  “Years of training and the good fortune of your arrival to create the necessary distraction.” The zhan stepped closer to the commander and lowered his voice.

  Hashel held his breath where he crouched behind the statue, straining to hear the zhan’s whispered words to the commander.

  “The temple where I lived and studied is unique,” the zhan said. “It is the home of a two sects. The first is little known, and the second is held in secret by its members. I was initiated into both. The first, the Djen-Kyru sect, protects the world and the faithful through prayer. The second, the Kan-Djen sect, The Warriors of God, protect through action. They are an ancient faction, hidden from the world, and empowered with the divine mission to defend the faith from the most dangerous foes. From the age of seventeen, I trained as a Kan-Djen, and later as a Djen-Kyru. The second is a stringent endeavor. The first is unmerciful in its regimen. I suspect my father sent me to the temple in the hopes I would become a Kan-Djen. That I might one day return to defend my brother and the family. But I did not return. I placed my own concerns ahead of those of my family and the dominion. My brother fell in battle, but he also fell because I did not stand beside him to offer protection. I will not see my bride and consort, nor my future children, suffer the same fate because I am not there to defend them. To that end, I must have someone I can trust without question at their side.”

  “I understand, my zhan.” The commander bowed deeply.

  “Good.” The zhan nodded his head. “I will allow you to continue your preparations. I believe Councilor Pang Kao-Rhee wishes to speak with me before the ceremony. I will take my usual guards.” The zhan pointed to two men standing by one of the entrances.

  As Hashel looked to the guards, he saw another man on the other side of the circular balcony, across the open space of the temple chamber. The skin prickled along the back of his neck. He had seen the man not long ago. The tall man plotting to kill the zhan. Hashel frowned as he watched the zhan walk toward the guards. What should he do? Should he warn the zhan? How? Ondromead would be very unhappy if he interfered in events once more. Ondromead. He needed to find Ondromead. If they were present in the palace to witness the murder of the zhan, would Ondromead be easier to find by following the intended victim or the man who schemed for his death?

  Hashel bit his lip as he watched from the shadows behind the statue. The zhan left through one doorway with his two guards and the commander alone through another. The tall would-be murderer turned and walked toward a third door on the far side of the balcony.

  Making his decision, and hoping it proved correct, Hashel ran beside the railing, staying low to avoid being seen. He dashed around the curve of the balcony as the tall man walked through a door and closed it behind himself. Hashel’s thin leather boots skidded silently across the marble floor as he came to a stop before the door. He opened it slowly, seeing the man pass through yet another entrance at the end of a corridor.

  The man slipped inside the hallway and pulled the door closed. Hashel ran along the corridor as quietly as he could, halting before the second door he had seen the man enter. He opened it a crack and listened as he peered inside the room.

  Light shone through from a slender window, illuminating a well-decorated room. A large desk. An empty fireplace. Tables. Chairs. Books on the walls. He did not see the tall man. Taking a deep breath, he decided to risk exposing himself and opened the door slightly wider. He slipped through the door and...

  “Who are you now, boy?”

  A firm hand gripped Hashel’s arm, yanking him off his feet. He gasped as he looked up into the face of the tall man. As ever, he said nothing, the fear in his eyes his only communication.

  “Why are you following me, boy?” the tall man growled into Hashel’s face. “Who do you work for? Tonken-Wu?”

  The man shook Hashel and slapped him hard across the face. Hashel’s eyes watered and his head rang. The man pulled him toward a door at the far end of the room.

  “Won’t talk? Then I’ll make sure you never talk.”

  Hashel struggled as the man pulled him toward the door. He t
ugged at the man’s fingers on his arm with his free hand to no avail. His feet barely touched the ground as the man hauled him across the stone floor, opened the door, and yanked him into a dimly lit corridor.

  Hashel found himself alone.

  He froze in place, rabbit-still, heart thundering in his chest, tears streaking his face, his body tingling with terror as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He stood in a small clay-walled hut, a fire hearth in the center, an open hole in the thatched roof above it letting in light. A small table and two chairs sat opposite a bed with a blanket covering a mound of straw. A roughhewn wooden door sat partway open. Noises came to his ears as his heart raced faster. The noises sounded like men fighting. He heard steel smashing against steel, men shouting, men screaming in pain, horses snorting in fear.

  His hand trembling, Hashel reached out and pulled the door closed to a crack. He saw a dusty lane between homes similar to the one he stood in, men in armor fighting each other, identifiable only by the colors of the sashes draped from their shoulders.

  As he watched a man with a green sash fight four men with red sashes, he began to cry. The green-sashed soldier’s sword cut through the blades of the men he battled, slicing open their armor — a honed razor cleaving thin paper. Where could he be? How far from the palace had he come when the tall man pulled him through that doorway? Thankfully, the tall man had not also traveled along. But how could he get back to the palace? How could he find Ondromead?

  The soldier in the green sash ran after the last of the men he fought, cutting him down in the street with a stroke that severed his armored arm from his body. Hashel left the door slightly open, but stepped back into the straw-covered dirt floor of the hut and sank to his knees and sobbed.

  Alone. Alone again and no one to protect him. Somehow, he had to find a way back to the palace, back to Ondromead. But how?

 

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