Chapter 11
"You have perhaps heard rumors that the Brethren do not ride ordinary horses?" asked Tristan. The general looked at Tristan without comprehension. Tristan continued, "we have with us two unicorns, and they are currently living in your stables in the guise of normal horses. If we can sneak one into a closet or adjacent room to where the Queen is meeting with her advisers perhaps the unicorn's presence will ward the Queen from Visca's spells even in his presence. If so, perhaps Visca will convict himself when his spells fail. If not, the only thing we risk is having to explain why we stuffed a horse into the closet. It is just a theory but it is all we have." The others thought it was worth a try and immediately began plotting how to smuggle a horse into the castle proper.
The Queen was to meet with her advisers, nobles, and generals that evening in a small audience chamber in the North wing of the castle. Just off this chamber was a small room used to conceal servants until called upon to provide refreshments for the gathered company. The Queen's throne was against the wall dividing the smaller room from the rest of the chamber. Even more importantly, the small room had a door that opened on a flight of stairs which led to a hall that connected it to the kitchens, but at the bottom of the stairs was a door leading out into the courtyard. It was a perfect location for their experiment if they could just get the unicorn out of the stable, across the courtyard, and in the door without being seen.
Several hours before the appointed meeting, Pallin (dressed as a common laborer) went to the stables and hitched up the carthorse which pulled the refuse wagon; Pallin led him to the infamous door and parked the wagon in front of it. He then spent the next hour hauling garbage from the kitchen to the wagon. Nobody looked twice at a menial doing his job and the door was nicely hidden from view. A short time later, Tristan went to the stable, put a halter on Taragon, and led him out into the courtyard. He walked him over to the refuse cart which appeared to be a rather handy hitching rail; he then made a great show of inspecting his feet, looking in his mouth, checking his eyes, and going over every inch of the stallion. The general just then happened to walk by and caught Tristan up in a rousing conversation. They stood for no little time in front of Taragon in lively discussion. While this was going on, Pallin opened the door and beckoned the stallion inside. The stallion pulled loose the poorly tied rope and quickly followed Pallin inside and up the stairs. Pallin shut him in the little room and told him to be patient. Pallin resumed his trash hauling; Tristan and the general spent another fifteen minutes talking before parting company. Once he had finished his job, Pallin led the carthorse to the refuse pile, unloaded the trash, and returned to his chambers to dress for the meeting.
The three men hoped their ‘prank’ had not been observed by anyone, but it was the best they could contrive upon short notice. They met outside the entrance to the audience chamber shortly before the meeting was to begin. “I hope this works,” said the general.
“Me too,” replied Tristan as they entered the audience chamber. The Queen was already seated; she looked very relaxed and alert; she smiled at them as they entered. They took their seats facing her. Lord Visca came in shortly thereafter and seemed surprised when he saw Tristan and Pallin alive. He said nothing and took his seat beside the throne. As they waited for the other guests to arrive, he seemed antsy; he was always adjusting the collar of his shirt and squirmed constantly in his chair. He kept glancing nervously about the room and frowning at nothing in particular. Something certainly seemed to bother the man; Tristan hoped it was their equine friend in the next room. Once everyone arrived, the Queen stood and welcomed them to the advising session.
She said, “as many of you are already aware, we have called most of the men back from the staging areas and have allowed them to return to their former trades. It was brought to my attention today that our allies across the mountains are progressing much more slowly than I was aware, Lord Visca?”
“Communication is a dreadful problem between the east and the west, your Majesty,” said Visca lamely.
“Yes, but intelligence of this nature is too important to blame on communication errors,” said she, “I also come to question the very reasons we are going to war in the first place. Have we not troubles enough with our one small country that we need to multiply them by bankrupting our economy and waging open war with a much larger foe? I do not know what I have been thinking, apparently I have not been thinking about much of anything lately. I hereby declare that we are no longer planning to attack and conquer anything larger than our own current budgetary problems.”
“But your Highness!” whined Visca, “what about your destiny? The glory of Westria?”
The Queen smiled with distaste, “destiny and glory are all very well but they are a poor foundation upon which to base a war. Your advice to me has been troublesome from the start Visca, and I fear you have had too much influence over me and my country, though I do not know why I did not see it sooner. You are hereby relieved of your position and further investigation will be made into your doings over the last few months. I doubt not that you will be found guilty of treason at the least and murder may soon be added to it.” The man seemed to panic at his sudden loss of power over the Queen and his abrupt fall from grace.
He leapt to his feet and glared daggers at Tristan and Pallin, “whose advice do you take? These newcomers? How can you trust them over me?”
“I take my own counsel,” she said, “something I should have done much sooner than I have.”
Tristan stood and addressed the Queen, “your Majesty if I may speak?” She nodded her ascent. “This man has had some sort of evil spell over you for all that we can tell it is now broken,” said Tristan, “he also sent a man to kill us this afternoon; I fear this is the same fate that befell any of your outspoken advisors who disagreed with Visca.”
“Is this true Visca?” asked the Queen.
Visca, now too angry to stop himself said, “yes it is true, all of it! I only regret my assistant was unable to dispose of these two troublemakers as he did with your missing advisors. Had he succeeded, I would soon be king and this country would be irrevocably at war, but what none of you saw is that conquest was not the ultimate goal. The ultimate goal was to create such chaos in all the lands between the eastern and western seas that my masters could step in and sweep up everything with little, if any resistance. This is a minor setback, an irritation! My masters have been waiting millennia for their final victory and a few more years or decades mean nothing to them. You have won the day but will not win the war.” Visca finished his monologue on a very confident and triumphant note.
“The war has already been won,” said Tristan softly, “only a few minor skirmishes remain, but evil has lost.”
Visca snarled at Tristan, “and I suppose you are one of those thrice cursed Brethren! I thought I had tied up that little loose end very nicely. Your colleagues are such meek little lambs; they offered no resistance when I had them thrown into the deepest dungeon I could find. For all I know, they linger there still. I thought you were a dying breed, hiding your way into extinction.”
“A year ago you would have been correct, but the Lady and Master have breathed new life into us,” said Tristan calmly.
“Bahhh!” screamed Visca as he ran for the door into the servant’s alcove. His yell of astonishment was drowned out by the scream of battle that came from the small room. He had not expected to find a unicorn in the castle, but he recovered himself quickly and darted across the small room and out the door leading to the courtyard. Taragon poked his head around the corner as if asking what to do next.
Tristan bowed to the Queen, “I must stop him your Majesty,” and jumped on Taragon’s back and bolted down the stairs and out into the night after Visca. The room had been deathly quiet during the whole exchange, but now it broke into chaos as everyone spoke at once. Pallin and General Trent did their best to
explain what had just happened.
Visca did not head to the stables, but ran on foot out a side door in the courtyard and out into the dark streets of the city. Tristan followed quickly on Taragon who had resumed his more usual disguise. Visca kept ahead by dashing down alleys and side streets that impeded or blocked a horse completely. Eventually, he found his way out a small gate and into the surrounding countryside. Tristan wondered how he thought he could keep ahead of a rider in open farmland. As he was musing on this, a horrendous shriek rent the night like a knife. A black, bipedal reptile had emerged from the forest and was running to meet Visca in his headlong flight. Its terrible teeth glittered in the night. It had a long snaky neck and tail, much as a dragon’s but this creature seemed to possess too small a mind to be of draconian descent. The creature met Visca, who threw himself upon its back, and fled swiftly into the distant woods. Tristan followed in close pursuit. The reptile was fast but nothing could outrun a unicorn.
When it became apparent that flight was futile, Visca pulled up the beast and turned to face Tristan. The thing looked like a terrible foe, but Taragon was impatient to give battle. Tristan let him have his head and cautiously they approached their foe. The pair circled for a few moments sizing each other up and then closed. Both men had their swords out, but it was mainly their mounts that fought each other and tried to injure the opposing rider. The reptile lashed out with teeth, claws (it had small forearms that it could use almost like hands and it could kick with its powerful back legs), and whip like tail. It was a horrible brute to fight and a normal horse would have fled in terror or been torn to shreds, but Taragon was no mere horse. He reared up and struck with his deadly front hooves and lashed out with his teeth and horn. Their mounts were moving about so swiftly and erratically as they frantically dodged and struck that the men had little chance to exchange sword blows, but each could occasionally strike at the other’s mount.
During the melee, one of Taragon’s front hooves came down on the creature’s breast collar smashing a milky-red crystal on its harness. The crystal shattered and the creature roared in confusion, backing out of the fight. Tristan held Taragon back from reengaging the thing. The monster started to shake and buck and claw at its own saddle. Visca was terrified. The reptile soon turned its attention from the harness to the rider, as if it had gone mad or feral. The crystal must have had some calming and controlling influence over what little mind the creature had; with the crystal destroyed it had reverted to its wild state and it did not like having a rider. Visca stood little chance against those terrible teeth and horrible claws. The thing moved too fast for Tristan to intervene. The creature flung down what was left of Visca, roared at the unicorn, and fled into the night. Tristan gave chase, if only to keep the feral monster from attacking anyone else. Without a rider, it was a much easier target and was quickly dispatched. He rode back to the castle with more questions than answers.
The gate guards were not quite sure what to do when Tristan rode through the gate dragging the dead monster; they wisely chose to leave well enough alone. He left the brute in the courtyard, not sure why he brought the thing back but it might tell them something useful. He returned to the small audience chamber and found everyone had resumed some semblance of calm. He told of the chase, the strange creature, and the ensuing fight. Some hardly believed him until they glanced out the window and saw the dead beast in the center of the courtyard.
“Has anyone been sent to search Visca’s quarters?” asked Tristan. No one moved or answered. “We had better have a look,” said he as he left the room with Pallin, the Queen, and half a dozen advisors and minor lords in tow. Tristan turned to the Queen, “is it possible to have a search of the dungeons made? If my colleagues are there, they must be freed.”
The Queen told off four of the others to go and make a search of the dungeons, and the rest of the small party went into the lord’s dreary chambers. Tristan went in first, sword bared; Pallin came behind with his sword out and carrying a torch. Nothing moved or stirred in the darkness. The others came in carrying several more torches. They made a thorough search of all the rooms, making sure there were no surprises in the darkness. They then set about ransacking Visca’s few personal belongings hoping to find some clue as to what he had been up to. They discovered his favorite (and only) color of clothing was black, and he was not particularly fond of dusting. Otherwise, their search turned up nothing. In the very back of the apartments was a dusty little closet with a very ugly picture sitting on the floor by the wall. The picture had once hung on the wall and behind it was a small alcove, though it was currently empty. Whatever had been there had vanished.
“The servant!” said Tristan in comprehension. “I had forgotten about the servant that led us into the bowels of the castle for an ambush,” said Tristan, “he must have been in league with Visca and the assassin. He must have figured out what we were up to, sacked Visca’s quarters, and fled.” The Queen dispatched the remaining two lords to fetch the guards and to have the gate guards alerted. It was a pointless gesture, but she felt she had to do something.
They never found the servant or the pilfered items, but the search of the dungeons revealed two skinny and hairy but very much alive men. Tristan embraced his very dirty Brothers. They had never been so happy to see anyone. They bowed to the Queen and apologized for their lack of proper attire. She smiled and said it was quite all right. They were soon cleaned up, shaven, and dressed in something better than their prison rags. Tristan updated them on the goings on in the world since they had disappeared two years ago. They were distressed to hear of Visca’s treachery and wondered as much as Tristan did about what these strange events portended. Was it possible that there was some evil twin to the Brethren? Visca had spoken of ‘his masters’ and the assassin’s tattoo bore a striking resemblance to Visca’s vile mount. There was also the strange aura of fear about the assassin and Visca’s influence over the Queen to consider. Everything suggested some evil brotherhood steeped in dark magic; the thought sent a chill down the backs of all present. The Lady must be informed of this immediately if such a thing existed. The two skinny Brethren expressed a wish to see the Lady again, but felt that it would be some time before they could travel.
The Queen then asked if they would stay, at least temporarily as her advisors. They bowed in delight. Tristan and Pallin would leave immediately to inform the Lady of what was passing in the West. Before they left, Tristan took the broken crystal breastplate off the creature and put it in a sack to take along. It was the only clue they had. The two freed Brethren stared at the creature in disgust. As they stood watching Tristan, a furor in the stable drew everyone’s attention. The placid old cart pony had broken out of his stall and was making a beeline for the little group gathered around the dead monster. One of the rescued Brethren cried out in delight and ran to embrace the shaggy creature. He had thought his unicorn dead, killed at the time of their arrest as he had seen the other unicorn fall, but here he was all this time posing as a carthorse just to stay close to his master. At least some good had come of this night.
All went to bed to find what sleep they could. Tristan planned to get an early start, but first he had a question for the Queen. “Your majesty,” he said, “have you any dragons in this land?”
The Queen gave him a queer look, not expecting such a question but said, “rumor has it that an old green dragon still lives in the hill country at the base of the mountains. Do you have an urge to slay such a beast?”
Tristan laughed, “no Majesty, I have found certain dragons to be very skilled masters of lore, if a bit eccentric. I was hoping to inquire about anything they may know about this shadowy brotherhood or their strange riding beasts.” The Queen nodded in comprehension. She provided them with provisions, maps, and what advice she could give. She also sent soldiers to root out the bandits and other scofflaws that hindered travel between east and west, a
nd to put an end to the vile trade in human souls. No more would anyone be conscripted or enslaved in her lands. Visca had instituted such practices without her knowing and now she was left to clean up his treachery. She wished them well as they rode out of the courtyard and said, “your counsel and presence will be much missed and you will always have an honored place among my closest advisors. May the Master ride with you! Farewell!”
They made for the hill country in hopes of finding the fabled dragon and his much-needed counsel. After much riding, they came to the foot of the mountains and a wide band of hills that vanished into the distance. It was a pleasant country of rolling hills, scattered trees, and chattering brooks. They stopped at the inn in a small village, which according to their map was the last outpost of human civilization on the brink of the mountain wilderness. The innkeeper welcomed them cordially and tried his best to answer their questions about dragons, but he was a simple man and cared nothing about things beyond the confines of his village. They thanked him for his time and took a seat at a table to wait for their meal. “Dragons did you say?” asked a half-deaf old man.
“Yes, dragons,” said Tristan, “we are seeking a green dragon who supposedly resides in the area.”
“You cannot go a-slaying our dragon,” scowled the old man, “just because you do not understand something does not give you the right to kill it. What did he ever do to you?”
“We did not come to slay your dragon,” said Tristan patiently, “we come to ask his advice on a rather important matter.”
“Ahhh, then I think I can help you,” smiled the old man, “meet me tomorrow at day break outside the inn and I will lead you to him.”
“Thank you,” said Tristan gratefully. They finished their meal and then retired.
Early the next morning they had the unicorns and packhorses packed and stood patiently waiting for the strange old man. Shortly, he came riding up on a scruffy burro that looked almost as old as his rider. The old man smiled like a lunatic as he led the party deep into the heart of the hills. He had not had an adventure in decades and it felt good to be on a quest again. Half a day brought them to a large hill in whose base yawned a gigantic opening. From the depths of the cave came a great rushing sound as of wind. The little man bellowed at the top of his lungs (which is to say not very loud at all), “come out you great scaly beast and speak to these honorable gentlemen.”
The snoring stopped abruptly and a large scaly head appeared with a confused look on its face, “what year is it?”
“It is time to wake up and be useful,” laughed the old man.
“Bennet?” asked the dragon, “you have gotten very short and wrinkly. Have you been washing in water that is too hot?”
“No you daft old beast, I have just gotten old while you slept your life away,” scowled the old man.
“I was in the middle of such a nice long nap,” said the dragon, “why did you wake me?”
“I have a couple of gentlemen here that want to ask you a few of questions,” said Bennet.
“They actually want my opinion on something?” beamed the dragon. Tristan rolled his eyes hoping this was not a waste of time. The dragon emerged fully from his cave and squatted down excitedly in front of them. “What do you want to know?” he asked gleefully.
“We have just come from the Queen’s palace in Westria,” began Tristan, “there we encountered an evil man with some ability to control the Queen’s decisions. He had a vile associate who tried to kill us and while he lived radiated fear. When the assassin died, he dissolved into a puddle of oily black liquid soon after death. Before he dissolved, we noticed a vicious black reptilian head tattooed on his shoulder. The other man later tried to flee on the back of a similar bipedal, black reptile. It was wearing this (Tristan showed the dragon the breastcollar) and when the crystal broke it seemed to go wild and attacked its master and fled. There was a third man who fled before we could catch him. The man who was advisor to the Queen spoke of ‘his masters’ and of hoping to cause such chaos in the world that this evil force could easily conquer everything. Do you know anything of such matters?”
The dragon looked thoughtful for a moment and then retreated into his cave. There was the sound of digging and of large objects being moved. The dragon emerged with a book in his claws. The ancient tome was titled: ‘An Expose on the Brotherhood of the Serpent.’ “I acquired this from a traveling merchant several centuries ago; he said he had found it in the ruins of a castle in some far off and forgotten land,” said the dragon, “I never read it as I am far too busy, but it sounds like it may have something to do with these strange men you encountered. Please take it. And if it turns out to be helpful I ask that you come back and tell me the tale.” Tristan bowed in thanks; the dragon smiled broadly. He liked being helpful. “Now if you will excuse me I have important business to attend to,” he said as he crawled back into his cave and resumed his nap.
“Mortimor is a good dragon, but awfully strange sometimes,” laughed the old man, “I hope he helped you in your quest young man.”
“He may have just given us a big clue,” said Tristan. They thanked the old man for his services and parted ways. The old man headed back to town and Tristan and Pallin headed home. Their second crossing of the mountains was uneventful, as was their journey to Astoria. During their travels, Tristan read through the ancient book. It was written by one Henrophilous Danderman III about a thousand years ago when names were tedious. How it survived in such good condition Tristan did not know, but besides for being a little musty it was in excellent shape. The Brotherhood of the Serpent was a small group of men who had dedicated their lives to the Evil One, much as the Brethren were dedicated to the Master. Through various dark and evil rites, they dedicated their very souls to their vile master. In exchange, they received access to various black spells and other powers. The beasts they rode were mindless creatures that lived beyond the Northern Wilds; through various arcane arts they were able to control the beasts via the crystal in the breast collar and even to control some of the monster’s thoughts and actions.
The group was formed in the early days of civilization to serve as a foe and a mockery of the Brethren, though the Brethren were apparently unaware of this shadowy nemesis. They were an ancient evil that used their influence to advance the cause of their master, which was total darkness upon the whole face of the world. Unlike the Brethren, they moved about in complete secrecy and did little recruiting or proselytizing. It seemed those with dark and evil hearts instinctively sought out the Brotherhood, even if they did not know what they were initially seeking. Little was known of the hierarchical structure of the group, their numbers, location, or their spells, abilities, and powers. Tristan was surprised the author had even been able to piece together as much as he had. At least he had something to tell the Lady.
They arrived in Astoria as quickly as they could and immediately reported to the Lady. She was heartened to hear of the dissolution of Westria’s armies and the discovery of her lost servants. However, she was aghast at the idea that there was a shadowy adversary out there of which they had been unawares for millennia. She thanked them for their good work and told them she must think on these matters and bring them before the Council of Six. She bid them rest from their journey for she might need to send them out again before very long.
Tristan’s first order of business after seeing the Lady was to see how Bristol and his ‘garrison’ were coming along. Bristol was excited to see him again (Pallin retreated to his room, not wishing to deal with the Order more than required) and asked many questions about his journey and future plans. They sat alone in a small glade in the woods outside Astoria. “What news of the Order?” asked Tristan.
“Not much to tell,” replied Bristol, “they continue their push to recruit as many qualified men as they can. They are pleased with the success of our ‘garrison’ here and wish to expand it if possi
ble, and they especially long to wrench it free of the Lady’s influence. They have written once or twice hoping you will reconsider your resignation. They are desperate for skilled and competent leadership with all these new recruits coming in.” Bristol smiled hopefully.
“What I do next depends on the Lady; my allegiance is first to her and the Brethren. All other relationships are secondary,” replied Tristan. Bristol nodded in understanding.
“The few months I have been here I have been watching the doings of the Brethren, they are quite a remarkable people. I almost wish I had joined them instead of the Order,” said Bristol.
“Why not join them?” asked Tristan.
“I am a sworn member of the Order,” said Bristol, “I cannot go back on my oath.”
“No one said you had to,” said Tristan, “I am sworn to the Brethren, but that did not make me any less a member of the Order. My first allegiance is to the Lady, but that does not mean I am trying to undercut or damage the Order,” said Tristan, “if the Order and the Brethren disagree, it is because the former is corrupted and must be set right. Fixing something that is broken is not treason. By having a positive influence on a few of the men in the Order I hope it has made it a better organization, if only slightly. The Order could do much good in the world if only it lost its self-serving and power-hungry nature.” Bristol nodded thoughtfully but said no more on the subject. “What of ‘your’ men?” asked Tristan.
The young men he had left in Bristol’s charge were coming along wonderfully. There were even a few others interested in ‘joining.’ Tristan wondered what effect sending some of these promising young men out into the general population of the Order would have. Could they shake the very foundations of the organization with so few? They talked long about many things, though Tristan said nothing of the happenings in the West save that he had been there, completed some small task, and returned hence. Later Bristol mentioned that an inspector had come from Order headquarters to evaluate the unit; he had been very impressed and hoped more was to come. Brisbane had been assigned such a duty when he had ridden to Astoria for the second time. Of that man little was said, it was still painful for Tristan to think of. He had been sentenced to death according to the laws of the Brethren. Before his execution several of the Brethren, including the Lady herself had tried to speak with him about the course of his life and his impending death. He laughed them all to scorn and died a rebel. The Order was not at all pleased with the situation, but there was little they could do short of storming the keep and rescuing the man. They did not like having the laws of a country override their own. They felt themselves subject to no one but themselves; Tristan felt this was their greatest weakness. Everyone must be subject to some higher standard or tyranny erupts.
Pallin was reunited with his old friends of the ‘garrison’ and told them of his adventures west of the mountains (at least what he was allowed to tell). The others longed to go out into the world and try their hand at adventuring; they grew restless without an assigned duty. Day after day of drilling, practice, and patrolling grew tedious. The Lady knew of their growing restlessness and thought soon they should be sent ‘back’ to the Order to see what influence they could have there. Since Westria’s plans of conquest had fallen through there was no telling what would become of the rapidly multiplying Order. As the Order had also been involved to some degree in the Westrian plot, perhaps there was some link between them and this mysterious Brotherhood. She would alert all of the Brethren abroad in the world to the presence of this sinister group and ask them to let her know immediately if they noticed anything odd. Again, she must send Tristan out into the world in search of the truth. She planned to send him and the five ‘garrison’ lads back to the Order. Pallin could go if he wished, but she feared it would not be a good experience for him.
Tristan received the Lady’s news with little surprise. He suspected he would end up back in the Order again once he discovered their ties with Westria. It was the only lead they had in trying to track down the Brotherhood. His only consolation in hunting down a hidden enemy was that they seemed unable to tell one of the Brethren from anyone else although the Brethren could feel a certain evil about persons involved with the Brotherhood. Thinking back, he had felt an ‘evilness’ about the servant when he led them into the trap in Westria, though at the time he had felt it was just his nerves, the dankness of their path, and his encounter with Visca. At least he had that much advantage. He wondered whither the servant had fled and what he was up to; if he was lurking about the Order his cover would be destroyed for good.
Tristan wrote to the Order saying he had recovered enough from the attack that he felt able to competently continue his service to the Order if they wished to have him back. He also noted how antsy the young men of the ‘garrison’ were getting and that he would like to bring them back with him. A new group of promising locals had been identified and Bristol felt they would make an adequate replacement for the men he was losing. He also wrote that the garrison was now fully under Bristol’s command and would not be hindered by direct interference from the Lady as long as they abided by Astorian law. Since Bristol had taken the Oath and was now under the Lady’s command, she was still in control of things, if indirectly. The Order seemed content and even pleased with the turn of events and gladly welcomed Tristan back into the fold. He was to report to Panmycea immediately with the five men from the garrison before further deployment. Pallin, who opted not to join the Order stayed behind but bid Tristan a fond farewell as they mounted up and rode away.