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

by G. L. Breedon

  “Yes, my kimpadess.” The first man gestured to the second, and they started to haul the carcass toward a tree with low branches at the edge of the glade. As the kimpadess walked back in the direction she had come, another man emerged from the forest. He wore the finely embroidered vest of a ceremonial office around his large belly rather than hunting leathers.

  Ondromead uncorked the bottle of ink and dipped the silver tip of the quill into the black liquid. He knew the words that would be exchanged constituted the reason for his presence there. He turned to Hashel, noticing that the boy held his half-eaten apple in one hand, far from his mouth as he watched the man and woman in the clearing. The boy knew not to make unnecessary noise.

  “Councilor Landase, you look winded.” The kimpadess smiled at the man clutching his side.

  “I bring news, my kimpadess.” The man paused and gasped for breath.

  “Take your time, Landase. I would not want to rush you.” The kimpadess leaned on her bow, her posture belying her words, a gesture the councilor interpreted correctly.

  “My apologies, my kimpadess.” The rotund councilor stood up straight, forcing his breath to slow. “The bride is dead and the Daeshen mount a full prosecution of the war.”

  “Excellent.” The kimpadess smiled. “Twenty years of planning finally coming to fruition.”

  “Yes, my kimpadess.” Councilor Landase bent slightly to allow a deeper breath. “Should we not, though, have striven to kill the zhan instead of the bride?”

  “We tried that once, as you well remember.” The smile faded from the kimpadess’s lips. “And as it happens, I believe Tin-Tsu’s survival of his coronation will benefit us far more than his death. The Daeshen dominion now marches to all-out war with a wet leaf sitting on the throne rather than a powerful oak. When the two dominions have exhausted themselves, we will find little resistance to our invasion.”

  “A wise strategy indeed, my kimpadess.” The councilor bowed his large head.

  “Any word from my little carnival?”

  “Late in coming, but we did receive one bird, my kimpadess,” Councilor Landase said. “The castle they are in is still under siege, but the Tanshen army has completely routed the Daeshen forces. He writes of the Tanshen swords slicing clean through the Daeshen blades.”

  “Then the reports of our spies were accurate. They have abandoned their faith to use The Sight. Surprising it took so long for one of them to break.” The kimpadess turned to her councilor. “Is the guardian unable to assist the carnival?”

  “Not in this instance, my kimpadess,” Councilor Landase frowned.

  “Has he been informed yet of his mate’s demise?” The kimpadess hefted her bow to her shoulder and began walking back the way she had come.

  “No, my kimpadess.” Councilor Landase nearly ran to keep up with the kimpadess’s long strides through the low grass. “I did not wish him to lose focus.”

  “And the relic the mate attempted to retrieve?”

  “Unfortunately, it has been returned to its custodians, my kimpadess.” The councilor wheezed with exertion and obvious fear at his mistress’s possible reaction.

  “Most distressing.” The kimpadess glared at her councilor. “We will…” The kimpadess continued to speak as she entered the woods, but the trees and leaves muffled her voice to a whisper.

  Ondromead finished writing and set aside the quill. He heard the crunch of an apple and looked to see Hashel happily finishing his fruit. He closed the book and slid it and the ink and the quill into the satchel.

  “I suspect that will be all for the day.” Ondromead grabbed another apple from the ground. “I suggest we follow that dead deer to the village the kimpadess mentioned. I think we might find a good meal today.” He paused for a moment and scratched his beard, wondering if he should ask the question he found filling his mind. “Did you understand all that?”

  Hashel looked up to him, his face suddenly painted with a hint of sadness. He nodded his head.

  “Good.” Ondromead started the slow process of standing his weary bones upright. He had no real desire to explain the politics and history of the realm to the boy at such an hour. Maybe later, he would read him the entry from two decades past where the kimpadess plotted the means of starting a war between her neighboring nations with the goal of eventually ruling them both and beginning a new Great Dominion. It would make a good lesson, both for reading and for what he expected they would witness in the coming days.

  Hashel rose quickly and helped Ondromead to his feet, the two walking across the sun-dappled clearing to follow the men with the deer. As they stepped around the pool of deer’s blood in the matted grass, Ondromead noted how much the pattern resembled the shape of a map of the Iron Realm he had once seen. While he preferred to think of that as coincidence, his many years told him it more likely stood as an omen. A foretelling he did not voice aloud to the boy. Some things were best kept unknowns until they needed to be seen and overheard and written down.

  Instead, he threw his arm over Hashel’s shoulder and walked into the woods, following men who would lead them to a village and a meal of roast venison. He experienced an unfamiliar sensation in that moment, one he had heard described and spoken about, but never really apprehended. He smiled, realizing he felt joy, knowing it would not last, but certain for the first time in an unknowably long existence that he would feel it again.

  THE TEMPLE

  JUNARI

  THE SQUEAL of ropes pulling tight across rusted pulleys frightened seagulls from their perches across the rigging lines of the ships still moored to the docks near the small town. Junari stood on the aftcastle deck of the lead pilgrim ship watching the last bundles of cargo being lowered into the galley hold. It had taken longer than anticipated, delayed by weeks after the fire claimed one of the ships, but her fleet of vessels finally stood ready to depart. Six of the ships already floated in the bay, anchored as their captains awaited departure of the final two from the pier.

  Junari looked around, pride at her people swelling in her heart. The pilgrims had worked tirelessly against great opposition to fulfill this dream. Her dream. The Great Goddess’s dream. She waved at those gathered along the docks to wish them well. The late arrivals would begin work on new ships as they waited for the fleet to return. Knowing that their prophet and companions headed to the Forbidden Realm ahead of them left some of the pilgrims staying behind despondent, but most were filled with a passionate vigor to join the others as soon as possible.

  She saw Raedalus crossing the gangplank with a bundle in his hands, something small wrapped in red cloth. She smiled at him as he climbed the stairs of the aftcastle. She could never have come so far in her journey without him. He provided an island of calm certainty in the constant storm of life lived in the Goddess’s wake. She noted his lips quirk downward as he saw Bon-Tao standing, as ever these days, a few paces behind her. She did not know exactly what to make of the former warden commander, now sworn protector, any more than Raedalus. She only hoped both men would come to see themselves as complementing one another rather than as rivals.

  “For you, Mother Shepherd.” Raedalus extended his arms with the object swaddled in crimson silk as he stepped before her and bowed.

  “A gift?” Junari held the package in her hands, looking down in curiosity.

  “An offering to you and the Goddess Moaratana to commemorate this momentous day.” Raedalus bowed again, his eyes flicking ever so quickly to Bon-Tao.

  Junari pulled away layers of blood red silk to reveal the equally deep red cover of a leather-bound book. She ran her fingers over the words impressed into the flesh of the cover — The Red Book of Revelations. She opened it and read the first lines of text, recognizing them immediately. Her words. The words of the Goddess delivered to her in nights of trance and reverie.

  “Raedalus, this is…” Her eyes welled with tears as her voice broke in mid-speech.

  “There are twelve of them.” Raedalus smiled, obviously pleased his gift to
uched her so deeply. “One for every ship. And four left here with the pilgrims. I found a printer in the city who would make them in secret.”

  “You reordered the revelations by length.” Junari flipped through the pages, seeing the wisdom of applying that structure, how it tied together what had once seemed discordant and unrelated to reveal a symmetry of thought and intention.

  “It was Taksati’s idea.” Raedalus nodded to Taksati where she stood near the back railing of the deck.

  “Very wise.” Junari smiled at Taksati and closed the book. It felt good to know that the two had been involved in the project together in some way. The two she depended upon most.

  “A fortunate guess.” Taksati shrugged, self-effacing as usual.

  “Kuth-Von comes.” Bon-Tao stepped forward to point at the docks.

  Junari did not understand the importance of the interruption until she saw the line of men and women trailing behind the city elder, chains binding their hands as soldiers escorted them on each side. She guessed at least a hundred men and women followed Kuth-Von to her ship. The city elder crossed the gangplank and made his way up to her on the aftcastle. The bound men and women, looking ill-kempt and poorly fed, shuffled in their chains on the docks as the soldiers kept the curious pilgrims from approaching.

  “Greetings, prophet.” Kuth-Von said in Shen as he stepped onto the upper deck and bowed.

  “What is this, Kuth-Von?” Junari looked from the man to the people, the prisoners he had brought with him.

  “This is the fulfillment of your bargain.” Kuth-Von gestured toward the docks.

  “Make yourself plain, Kuth-Von.” Junari held tightly to the book still in her hands as she assumed the tone and bearing of command. She had found that voice and stature far easier to assume in the preceding weeks, as well as a much improved facility with the Shen language.

  “You agreed, as part of the bargain that gave you your ships, to take all the heretics in Tanjii with you upon your departure.” Kuth-Von’s tone of mild condescension annoyed her even more than his smile.

  “Why are my pilgrims in chains?” A heat burned in Junari’s gut at the thought of her pilgrims suffering privation in the prisons of Tanjii.

  “They are in chains because, although they are heretics, they are not your pilgrims.” Kuth-Von pointed to the docks once more. “These are Tot Gioth heretics, men and women who have taken up the heathen faith of the Atheton Dominion. And they are here to be loaded upon your ships.”

  Junari looked at the ragged line of chained prisoners, her fire of anger snuffed out by the indigence that accompanied the knowledge of losing a game of koris one thought had been all but won. Tot Gioth heretics aboard her ships. She would need to expel pilgrims from the vessels just to make room for them. And who knew the trouble they might cause. Did she confine them below decks or give them leave to plot mutiny in the middle of the ocean? Complications she had not anticipated any more than Kuth-Von’s duplicity.

  “Bring them aboard.” She turned to Raedalus and Bon-Tao.

  “Mother Shepherd?” Raedalus frowned as he looked to the congregation of Tot Gioth believers in chains.

  “We will figure out how to deal with them once we are at sea.” The tone of her voice cut off any possible discussion. She would not let Kuth-Von suggest that she had not fulfilled her side of the bargain.

  “I might recommend tossing them overboard once clear of the harbor.” Kuth-Von looked out to the ocean horizon.

  “Why not simply kill them yourself?” Junari stared at the man, keeping her face calm as her mind tumbled with confusion.

  “Public executions of these heretics stoke the fires of the more fervent among my city.” The smile finally left Kuth-Von’s lips. “The last time we executed a group of Tot Gioth heretics, it started a month-long wave of fighting between the Zatolin and Ketolin sects as they sought to continue the purification, as they put it. This solves my problem by making it yours.”

  “Then I will find a way to turn your problem into a beneficial solution.” Junari tried to sound optimistic but suspected her words rang with the apprehension she felt.

  “You have my best wishes in that endeavor and in your journey.” Kuth-Von smiled once more. “May you find what you seek, and may all your pilgrims swiftly follow you.”

  Kuth-Von bowed and turned, climbing down the steps of the ship before Junari had time to reply. She realized it to be for the best, as she had no adequate rejoinder, nor any idea of what to do with her new prisoners. She let Raedalus and Bon-Tao deal with getting the Tot Gioth believers aboard and sent Taksati to either find a way to accommodate them, or select pilgrims to displace in order to make room for them. The ships could only carry so much food and water, and she could not risk a shortage because of unexpected passengers.

  It took a few extra hours to deal with the unwilling pilgrims, but finally, near sunset, Junari stood on the forecastle of the same ship, newly named The Dragon Star, watching with Raedalus, Taksati, and Bon-Tao as the Goddess’s celestial beacon came out to guide them toward their destiny. A wave of joy at her accomplishment passed through her. As it did so, she silently thanked all those who had helped bring the pilgrimage to this point: Raedalus, Taksati, Bon-Tao, all the pilgrims aboard, all the pilgrims left behind at the town, and all the pilgrims still marching across the Iron Realm in search of the goddess they dreamed about each night.

  She had fashioned herself into a vessel for the Great Goddess, as had they all. They would part the waves of the Zha Ocean and find the temple of the Forbidden Realm and raise it once more to the glory of Moaratana. And she would do whatever might be necessary to see the dream they all shared made real.

  CODA

  A CLOUD-OCCLUDED sun burns in hazy radiance above the water and rock and sand and trees of an unnamed island. Three figures stand among vegetative shadows watching four others as they row small boats toward four ships floating beyond the shore.

  It is a great sadness that we come to this, the first of three thinks. Instigating that which we have spent millennia coercing our wards to avoid.

  And a great oddity that a forged record of that very real and terrible event should be the catalyst to action, the second agrees.

  Yet without that action, without our intervention, there is a greater danger of that event being repeated, the third adds.

  As the four small boats make farther into the waters toward the larger vessels, the three figures step from the darkness of the trees into the pale midday light.

  Each are alike — four legs bending outward from beneath round bodies covered in a thin sheen of shimmering amethyst-tinted hair. Two elbowed arms thrust from both sides of each body, all four ending in a palm of four multi-jointed digits that rest calmly while intertwined in pairs. A round appendage that is more neck than head rises above each body with four eyes set in a square around a round mouth with narrow teeth. Four fur-tinged holes for smelling and hearing sit equidistant around the circumference of each head.

  The three urris stare westward, their twelve eyes fixed on the unsighted shores of the Iron Realm beyond the horizon.

  The urris speak, their minds now melded in a single voice of three distinct pitches.

  The humans must not be allowed to rebuild the temple and shatter the seals that separate the spheres of existence…

  For if the rift between realms is once more rent open, it will release unknowable terror…

  And unleash beings of far greater power than even that held by our ancient ancestral collective, which nearly destroyed this world.

  Or those dark beings loosed by the humans who nearly remade this world into ‘The shadow realm. A land of pestilent darkness infested with vile creatures of living shadow.’

  The apostate’s words.

  The companion’s words.

  True words that warn us of what awaits should we fail.

  The three urris turn to each other, their wide, lipless mouths ever still in their dispassionate discourse.

  With only
three of us remaining, we will be fortunate enough to stop the ships that now sail to the Realm of Repentance, and we cannot hope to stop them all…

  Nor the force that guides and aids them and which grows ever more powerful in the world…

  Yet this is the only path we can ply to save them all, or what will remain of them.

  One thought is silently spoken among three minds as the urris rotate their heads to watch the four ships unfurl their sails against the wind.

  These four must lead their respective nations to war against the Iron Realm, or the world once more will be shattered in chaos and death.

  ***

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  THE PRIMARY CAST

  THE FUGITIVES

  Sao-Tauna — The seven-year-old daughter of Tahn Taujin Lin-Pi (brother to Zhan Taujin Letan-Nin of the Tanshen Dominion).

  Lee-Nin — Sao-Tauna’s former tutor and protector.

  Ing-Ku — The warden commander who hunts Sao-Tauna with orders to kill her.

  Sha-Kutan — A farmer with a dark past.

  Ogtankaa — The huntress who pursues Sha-Kutan.

  THE THRONE

  Tin-Tsu — A former priest and the newly raised zhan of the Daeshen Dominion.

  Dju-Tesha — Tin-Tsu’s sister.

  Pai-Nakee — Tin-Tsu’s mother.

  Kao-Rhee — The prime councilor to the Daeshen ascendancy.

  Rhog-Kan — The prime tigan (military commander) of the Daeshen Dominion.