 
### The Serpent and the Unicorn

### Books I and II

### Susan Skylark

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Susan Skylark

Completely Revised 2020

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Table of Contents:

Prologue

Map

Book I:

Book I: Chapter 1

Book I: Chapter 2

Book I: Chapter 3

Book I: Chapter 4

Book I: Chapter 5

Book I: Chapter 6

Book I: Chapter 7

Book I: Chapter 8

Book I: Chapter 9

Book I: Chapter 10

Book I: Chapter 11

Book I: Chapter 12

Book I: Chapter 13

Book I: Chapter 14

Book I: Chapter 15

Book I: Chapter 16

Book I: Chapter 17

Book II:

Book II: Chapter 1

Book II: Chapter 2

Book II: Chapter 3

Book II: Chapter 4

Book II: Chapter 5

Book II: Chapter 6

Book II: Chapter 7

Book II: Chapter 8

Book II: Chapter 9

Book II: Chapter 10

Book II: Chapter 11

Book II: Chapter 12

Book II: Chapter 13

Book II: Chapter 14

Book II: Chapter 15

Other Books by this Author

Book III Sample Chapters

Excerpt from 'The Greylands: Volume VI'

Sample story from 'Legends of the Brethren'

Sample of 'On Princesses: A Foible'

Sample story from 'Over the Hills and Far Away'

Sample of 'Shadow of the Unicorn'

In Which Miss Iris Misses Tea (excerpt from 'Of Tea...and Things')

### Prologue

Long ago, when the world was young and men still walked in innocence, an ancient king made an alliance with the terrible god of war. In exchange for the life of his maiden daughter, he would receive power to conquer all the kingdoms of men and have dominion over all mortal lives. The night was dark, with neither star nor moon giving light or hope to those who gathered upon the face of that forbidden hill to commence with their evil deed. The king had gathered all of his generals and advisors to stand as witnesses. The girl was brought forward and the hood removed from her head, a single tear rolled down her cheek, as she stared with pleading eyes into the cold and remorseless depths of her father's own. She saw neither love nor regret there, only a thirst for power beyond the reach of mortal ken. He drew forth a cruel knife from a sheath of black leather. Very soon the alliance would be sealed and no power on earth could withstand him. He approached the girl with a cruel and mirthless smile, raising the blade to strike.

He was thrown back from the girl, blinded by a cold light, while all standing around the pair fell to the ground in fear. Like a bolt of lightning, a bright and terrible figure stood between the man and his prey. The king regained his footing with a sneer and a triumphant laugh. "You have no authority here!" he scoffed, "Be gone before I become violent."

The light receded slightly, allowing those standing about to discern a vaguely equine shape amidst the glow. The figure reared up on its hind legs, pawing the air. He appeared in the form of a horse, but with the awe reserved for a charging bull or roaring lion. Then he spoke, "you must not do this terrible thing. You will forever tear apart the laws that bind the world together."

"I will do as I please," scowled the king, "and there is nothing you can do to stop me."

"If you are set upon this course, I will not stop you by force, but perhaps I can offer you an exchange?" proposed the radiant figure.

"What can you possibly offer me?" growled the king, the light of avarice bright in his eyes.

"The foul demon with whom you are dealing demands innocent blood for your vile contract, so be it! Take mine instead of the girl's," said the mysterious figure.

"Yours!" gasped the king, "But of what advantage is that to you?"

"To ransom the life of this dear child shall be gain enough," replied the figure quietly.

"Very well," said the king, "I have a feeling my master will be quite pleased with the exchange. What is one small child when the blood of his enemy is laid at his feet? What are your terms?"

"Give me one hour to bear this child to safety, then I will return hither and you may do as we have agreed," replied the figure grimly.

"How do I know you will not steal the child and disappear?" demanded the king.

"You know very well I do not lie," roared the figure. He swept the child onto his back, and as the light disappeared over the rim of the hill, called back, "in one hour I shall return."

For a time, the girl clung silently to the back of her rescuer, but as the horror of what she had barely escaped sunk in, she began to sob uncontrollably. "Do not weep, little one," said the figure, "you are safe and all will be well."

"How can you say that?" cried she, "Evil is about to be unleashed upon the earth and no one will be able to stop it!"

"I can," said he softly. A sense of immense peace fell upon the girl and dried her tears. Shortly, they approached a small cottage by the edge of a little stream that chattered invisibly in the night. A woman emerged from the door, wrapped a blanket around the quivering form of the girl, and bowed once to the retreating figure, taking the child into the house. The girl fell into bed and knew no more that night. The woman stared into the darkness, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Within the hour agreed upon, the figure returned to that forsaken hilltop. His light dimmed to the slight flickering of a dying candle, he stood before the men with a drooping head but a righteous fire ablaze in his eyes. The king laughed him to scorn, drew his blade, and approached the apparently cowed creature. Steel flickered in the wan light, but as the blade struck home, the light dimmed and went out. As if from a vast distance, a great wailing cry rent the night, as if the earth itself had been mortally wounded by the blow. A wind came howling out of the west and clouds blotted out the sky. Darkness engulfed the world, lightning flashed in the heavens, and thunder rolled as if all creation reared up in fury at the atrocity. The hill itself began to roll like a wave on the sea, splitting in two. The men were thrown from their feet and retreated in confusion and fear from the horror before them. Their horses reared and snorted, broke loose, and disappeared into the storm.

"What have you done!" roared one general over the wind.

"I have loosed the wrath of the heavens!" screamed the king. A panic spread among them and all fled into the darkness.

The next morning, the girl rode up the accursed hill hoping to find some trace of her rescuer. She found the vile blade broken in two, but no sign of the mysterious glowing figure. She dismounted and peered with dismay into the gaping chasm that had once been the heart of the hill. "What is it you seek?" asked a voice behind her.

With a shriek of pure joy, she flung her arms around the figure that now stood at her shoulder, glowing like the sun. "You are alive!" said she.

"Yes," said he simply.

"But what of last night?" asked she, "I was sure you had been slain. What of that horrible shriek and the dreadful darkness?"

"My life cannot be taken against my will. Before anything ever was and after all has passed into nothing, I was and ever will be. I laid down my life not only for you, but for all things that would have been utterly destroyed by the acts of last night. Your blood would have strengthened that foul demon beyond anything he has yet achieved. My blood, offered willing in exchange for another's, broke his power. What began in selfishness and evil, ended in selflessness and love, which alone has power to conquer the darkness. He has been vanquished but not destroyed. He still lurks in the world, full of malice and hate and ready to assist any who give themselves over to a lust for power and destruction. Until last night, mankind had lived in peace and harmony with one another and with all creation, but that peace has been shattered. Man has shown himself vulnerable to evil, willing to place himself above all else, even his own children. It is no longer safe to assume that all men are good in and of themselves. Each individual must hereafter make a decision to follow what is right and good, or to follow his own selfish path into evil and darkness. From the dawn of mankind, it was given into your hands to decide whether to pursue goodness or darkness. A member of your race has chosen the ultimate evil and with his fall, all are now required to make a decision that once came naturally to all."

The girl fell sobbing at his feet, feeling in herself the dreadful truth she had just heard spoken. It was as if something inside her had been torn or ripped away and she was left with a gaping hole, much like the defiled face of the hill. Looking up into his eyes, she said, "I have lost something within myself. I am no longer whole. I have a longing, a desire for something. Something, though I know not what. Something greater than myself."

"Yes," said he, "your whole race now shares that same longing. And with what you fill that hole will determine the course of your life, and the lives of all those around you, from now and ever onwards. Choose carefully."

"Can I choose you?" asked she, almost shyly.

A smile crept over his face and the whole hillside seemed to laugh for joy. "Of course," he said, "after last night, the world is hurting and needs to be told these things which you have just heard. I need someone to go forth and tell them. Bring your horse forward."

The girl ran over to the horse, which had strayed and was happily nibbling at weeds upon the far side of the hill. She led the beast towards the figure, but the stallion pulled back against the reins and nearly reared, trying to avoid the glowing figure before him. "Do not be afraid my simple beast," said the figure, "from now and ever onwards, you and your descendants will no longer be called simple." The figure turned his side towards the girl, and for the first time she saw the gaping wound in his side, from it dribbled a steady stream of silver blood. She gasped in horror and drew back. "Do not be afraid," said he, "this is the price of last night's adventure. Though much was lost, much good also came of it. Take a drop of my blood on your finger and place it on the horse's tongue." Hesitantly the girl complied, almost reverently she poked a finger into the silver stream and placed a drop of the precious fluid into the horse's mouth.

An indignant snort was followed by a blinding flash; she no longer held a horse by the reins but a unicorn. The sorrel coat had become white as the snow, wisdom and fire were in his once placid and simple eyes, cloven hooves of silver had replaced his single hooves of gray, and a silver horn protruded proudly from his forehead. He shook his head in disgust a few times and looked with dismay at the girl and the glowing figure.

"Remove his bit," laughed the figure. The girl complied and the unicorn seemed much happier. "Now it is your turn," said he. The girl looked with shock and disgust at the gaping hole in the figure's side, turning pleading eyes to his. "If you really wish to serve me, you must taste of my blood," replied he, "by doing so you are binding yourself to me and my purposes. You will gain much in wisdom and abilities, but in doing so you are also swearing to serve me, even with the forfeit of your life be it necessary. Do you wish to proceed?"

She nodded and did as she was bidden. She seemed to grow taller and a thirst for knowledge grew within her; a deeper understanding of things once hidden to mortal mind blossomed in her heart. She had changed as much as the horse.

"Now," said the figure," I will tell you of things long hidden to the race of men, things vital to your quest. The demon of war, to whom your father nearly sacrificed you, was once my greatest servant. But he desired things beyond his grasp and made an attempt to supplant me as The Master of All. He was banished from my presence and ever since has made war upon all that is good and wonderful. He has claimed lordship over all creation and still yearns for the power he cannot have. Until last night, he had made little progress in his war against me, but last night there came a breaking. Men, who had once lived in peace, have heeded his call and some have broken away from me seeking the power promised by their new master. Now all must decide whether to follow him or me. None can sit this out. By stepping aside, they are simply declaring themselves for him, if only by doing nothing. This is war, a war that has raged since before the world began, there can be no civilians. He will devour everything if all stand aside and let him. I will only do so much, I am Master of all things, but I have given all sapient creatures a choice, and upon that freedom I will not trespass.

They must choose what is right or what is evil. I will not infringe upon their decisions for good or ill. If they choose the right, I can assist them, but if they choose the evil I can only stand aside and weep for their ill choices and dire fate. That is why I would not interfere directly in the affairs of last night. It is up to you, and those like you: my servants, to pursue evil in whatever form or guise it takes and do what you must to defeat it and to defend the innocent. You must spread word of this through all lands and to all peoples. It will not be easy and there will be great heartache along the way but you will never be alone; it must be done or evil will consume the world and all within it. Last night a deadly blow was dealt to my enemy, but he is still lurking about and still very powerful. In the end, he will be completely vanquished but until that final Day, you are all that stands between the world and devastation. A rent has been created in the hearts of men. They will yearn for me and try to fill the gap with all sorts of vain things. You must tell them the truth of what you have seen. Last night, the innocence of man was lost, but by my blood it can be healed."

The girl had been held spellbound by the tale. The light around the figure dimmed a little, just enough so that she could make out his full form. She had glimpsed a horse-like figure last night and this morning, but now saw him fully, as if a fog had lifted. He was similar to the unicorn standing at her shoulder, but taller and more terrible; his horn and hooves were of gold and he glowed with the very light of the sun.

"Your faithful steed will be the father of the race of mortal unicorns and you shall be the first among a great and future throng of my servants. I will hereafter withdraw from wandering abroad in the world but I will be found by those who seek me. Go forth and teach what you have been taught, fight evil, and protect the innocent." With that he seemed to glow brighter, and as the sun topped the head of the hill, vanished into the blinding rays.

### Book I

" _Great heart of my own heart_

Whatever befall,

Still be my vision

_Oh, Master of All_."

'Be Thou My Vision'

Irish Hymn

Chapter 1

A rain-battered traveler approached an inn on a dark autumn night, the faint glimmer of firelight and the sounds of singing and murmured speech escaped through the open door, drawing the cold, weary man inexorably towards this small, hopeful sign of comfort and community. A stable boy took the reins of his black mare, leading her away into the darkened stable while the man proceeded into the inn, found a secluded corner, and sat down. A serving girl brought him a mug of the local ale, a loaf of bread, and a bowl of indifferent stew, to which he happily addressed himself, as it was far better than anything else he had eaten of late. He glanced curiously around the room, chewing thoughtfully, seeing a hopeful glimmer in the eyes of a few of the locals who were looking his way in anticipation, for a stranger often meant news, good or bad, it was always welcomed in such a far-flung corner of the world. He finished his meal, knowingly caught the eye of one of the more persistent glancers, the fellow smiled, revealing a mouth missing several teeth, but he seemed friendly enough. He smiled brightly, walked over, and placed himself next to the now excitedly grinning fellow.

"What brings you to a place like this?" asked the local eagerly, almost as if he doubted his new confidant's sanity by his mere presence in such a place.

"Just passing through," smiled the stranger knowingly.

"You cannot pass through here to anywhere," chuckled the local, "this is as close as you can get to nowhere without falling off the edge of the map." Several heads nodded assent to this very obvious statement of fact.

"Let us just say I want to see the world and have an adventure or two before I grow too old and sensible to do aught except walk behind a plow," answered the stranger archly. Several heads smiled and bobbed with mirth, for they had been young once it seemed and even remembered the phenomenon. The stranger then regaled them with enough news and rumors to satisfy their curiosity, but as the night wore on, even the most dedicated drunks gave up and went home, leaving the stranger alone in the common room. The innkeeper offered to show his only guest to his room, but the man wanted to check on his horse first, prompting a protest from the innkeeper that he had as fine a stable as anyone could want, but he could do as he pleased.

In the stable, the man found the mare. She seemed comfortable enough but he knew it was hardly fitting for her, something tolerated for his sake rather than her own. She snorted in exasperation but seemed to accept her current circumstances, if only because he thought she must. "Some things never change," said he smilingly, "we shall not be here long, and you have endured far worse upon our many adventures and you know it! Do the best you can and you shall regain your freedom come morning. If it is any consolation, my room is not much better than your stall." The mare made a noncommittal sound but seemed satisfied.

"Why're you talking to your horse, mister?" asked the groggy stable boy from the hayloft, "It isn't as if she could understand ya. Sides, we gots the best stable in these parts."

"I am sure you do," laughed the man, thinking that they probably had the only stable in the area. "We have traveled many long miles together and often she is the only one I have to talk to for days on end. You should be sleeping, not eavesdropping on a lonely, wandering man."

"Don't tell me boss!" cried the boy, "This is the only thing I have going for me. If he hears about it, he will turn me out in an instant."

The man grew serious and took a closer look at the boy, he must be around fifteen or sixteen but he was short and thin for his age, whatever the boy received in exchange for his services, he certainly was not well fed. "Do not worry, I will not say anything to get you in trouble," replied the man. The boy seemed to visibly relax, sighing in relief. "You do not have any family or friends to take you in?" asked the man.

A look of dismay crossed the boy's face, "my ma tossed me out as soon as I was of age. Said I was old enough to fend for myself. Not that I can blame her. She's got seven other youngsters to feed. I don't know who my dad is. The innkeeper lets me sleep in the loft and eat any scraps from supper as long as I take care of the horses. It could be worse!"

The man's heart was moved for the boy, and before he knew what he was saying, said, "I know a place where you can find a brighter future; how would you like to come with me? I cannot pay anything, but the rations would be better. There are many nights when I must sleep rough, but it cannot be much worse than a hayloft." A grin split the boy's face and he readily agreed.

The man returned to the inn and slept for what was left of the night. As he settled his bill the next morning, he told the innkeeper he would be taking the boy with him. The man shrugged indifferently, grumbling under his breath about good help being hard to find, but said nothing anyone was meant to hear. The man went to the stable to fetch his horse and found the boy waiting with an eager grin and a small sack slung over one shoulder; the mare was saddled and ready to go.

"First," said the man, "we get you properly outfitted for such an adventure!" They wandered off towards the village and found a scruffy looking pony that the owner was willing to part with for only slightly less than a small fortune. They also found a decent set of clothes that fit the boy much better than his current rags. After acquiring a few other essentials, they set off. The mare glanced distastefully back at the pony and the boy, giving the man a significant look. He patted her neck in reassurance but she shook her head in exasperation, but gave a resigned snort as they set off. The boy noticed none of this, to him, the pony might as well have been a great charger and his new clothes a shining suit of armor, for he was off on an adventure and anything could happen. The man wondered what on earth he was to do with his newly acquired companion; the mare whickered in wry amusement, as if to say 'I told you so.'

That night they camped in a small dell through which ran a merrily singing stream. The boy, exceedingly desperate to please, quickly went about setting up camp and even volunteered to try catching a few fish. He was quite adept as a fisherman, and within an hour, had several small trout roasting over a cheery fire. During supper, the boy glanced around for the mare, but could not find the horse though the pony grazed contently, hobbled nearby. When questioned about it, the man shrugged and said she came and went as she pleased and she would be back before dawn. In the morning, they broke camp, and as predicted the mare was ready and waiting. Before mounting up, the man handed the boy a bow and a collection of arrows that he had acquired on their trip to town. The boy glanced at them with a mix of joy and trepidation. The man said, "it might not be a bad idea if you learn the use of a bow as we travel." The boy smiled excitedly, though he had never shot at anything save the occasional rabbit but had never hit even that. As they traveled, the boy practiced his archery, and with a little guidance proved to have a natural talent.

The terrain grew steadily steeper and the ground stonier as they headed northeast, eventually they came to a sizeable city, within which stood a towering castle. The town stood within a high, stone wall, though the gates stood open, guards carefully watched and sometimes questioned those trying to enter. Outside the walls, a veritable maze of houses, shops, and inns had grown up over the ensuing centuries, apparently the population had well outgrown the original confines of the city. As the man and boy approached the city gates, the guards glanced at the man, briefly studied the boy, and then looked again to the man, both sides nodded in greeting, as they passed without further incident. The boy wondered briefly at this but remained silent, overawed by all the novel sights and sounds swirling about him; throughout the city people seemed relatively happy and contentedly went about their work with a complacent gaiety that puzzled the boy. People seemed to simply enjoy the myriad mundanities of life and never once seemed to wonder what it was all about or why things were not different. They approached the more heavily guarded castle gate, but the guards only saluted the man as he rode past, glanced questioningly at the boy, but let both pass unhindered.

Immediately inside the gate they entered a courtyard and the boy's heart leapt into his throat. There in full regalia, mounted upon a great horse, sat a Knight of the Order of the Unicorn. He set his heels to his pony's sides, pulled the small dagger from his belt, and with a cry of utter anguish, charged at the mighty horse and the man who sat upon it. The charger idly turned his great shoulder towards the advancing pony, hardly seeming to notice as the poor beast bounced off of him as if he had run straight into a wall. The Knight leapt from his saddle, sword bared, and placed his foot upon the chest of the fallen boy. As the knight drew back to lop the boy's head off, steel met steel, for the boy's companion had leapt into the fray, his sword now held the knight's weapon at bay.

"You will not spill innocent blood in the heart of Astoria," grated the man quietly, "put up your blade!" Noticing the guards approaching with bared steel, the knight reluctantly complied. The man looked stonily at the boy, saying quietly, "you will go with the guards and we will discuss this later." The boy meekly allowed the guards to lead him off, but flung a final look of hatred at the man who had just tried to kill him.

"The boy's life belongs to me," sneered the knight.

"His life belongs to no man but to the Master," replied the man.

"I claim it by right of the Order. Any who lays a hand upon a member of my Order shall surely perish thereby! You are lucky I do not claim yours as well for hindering me," scoffed the knight.

"I do not know why he attacked you, but I shall find out and he will be dealt with according to our laws," said the man, "you will not lay a hand on him nor will he bother you again. See to your business and be gone."

"Your laws!" scoffed the knight, "There are no laws, save those of the Order. The laws of mere men, such as yourself, are nothing but guidelines to keep the peasants in line. True justice is maintained by the Order alone. This is not finished." A servant appeared, bowed to the knight, and led him deeper into the castle.

The man led the mare quietly to a corner of the courtyard where several servants stood waiting, he removed her harness and baggage, handing them to the waiting servants while another opened a side door, allowing her entrance into a wide, grassy lawn. He then made his way to the guardhouse near the gate where the boy sat weeping. As the man approached, the boy tried to shrink into the wall against which he sat; the guards left them alone and resumed their posts. "Well?" asked the man.

"He...he...he was one of that awful group of men...that...that...defiled my mother," sobbed the boy. "She was but a girl of sixteen and they came riding through the village and proclaimed that they were better than everybody and saw her alone in a meadow with her father's sheep and...well...she got pregnant and everybody said it was her own fault and she had me and no decent man would have her after that and now she has eight kids by as many men and none of them care," wept the boy, "I was only trying to avenge my ma!"

The man put a comforting arm around the sobbing boy and drew him close, "do not worry, we will not let him hurt you, but revenge is not the same as justice. If you wish to stay here, you must learn many things, including forgiveness. Your family has suffered greatly under the injustice of the world, but that does not mean you may 'avenge' every grievance you have suffered. You must learn that anger and hatred are not the appropriate way to deal with suffering and wrongs. Forgiveness, mercy, and grace must be foremost in your mind and heart else you will be no different than he and the rest of his vaunted Order. Justice has a place, but only after careful thought and deliberation; it must never be carried out in the heat of hatred or anger, even justice must be done with love. Love meaning you are doing what is best for every person involved, even if it hurts or is difficult. You must learn these things if you wish to stay here. If you wish for revenge rather than justice, then you may take your pony and some provisions and ride to wherever your fate takes you, but you cannot remain here."

The boy sniffled a bit as he looked up into the gentle eyes of the man and said, "I never had a dad, but I hope he would have been like you. I would like to stay, if I could? I do not rightly understand everything you have said but I would like to try and learn it, if I must. I do not want to be like that man and his fellows."

"Good," smiled the man, "then I shall introduce you to the Lady." They both stood and approached the patiently waiting, who led them deep into the castle, where in a small inner chamber they found a very graceful yet ancient woman. They both bowed deeply, taking the waiting seats when told to do so.

"Welcome home Tristan," said she, "and welcome also young man, but I hope you will not be attacking anyone else within the walls of my keep?" added she with a smile. The boy blushed crimson. "You have been away a long time," she continued, "I hope your journey has not been in vain?"

"I have learned much, Lady," said he, "though little to cheer the heart."

"And what of the boy?" asked she.

"I am not sure exactly," replied the man, "I came across him at an inn some days ago and before I knew what I was saying, had asked him to come with me, for he was in dire straits and little more than an orphan. At worst, he is far better off here than where he was, for at least in Astoria he can find a future. Perhaps there is more to it, but that time must reveal; it just felt right to bring him along."

"Very well," said the Lady, her knowing smile hidden from all but those long familiar with her, "we shall see what comes of him." She turned to the boy and said, "young man, as long as you are here, you will be expected to do as you are told and be respectful of all people, including apparent enemies. You will attend lessons on everything from proper grammar to swordsmanship and you will be assigned a number of chores as well. You may leave at any time, but if you misbehave and do not correct said behavior when called upon it you will be dismissed. Will you stay or go?" The boy stared at her in disbelieving wonder for a few moments and then said he would happily stay, it sounded a much better arrangement than he could find elsewhere, especially the part about swords. The Lady smiled and clapped her hands, a servant appeared and led the boy off, leaving the Lady and Tristan to talk long into the night about his journey and the evil tidings in the world.

"When shall I see this Lady of yours?" demanded the Knight of the attending servant.

"You shall see her as soon as may be, but you did not send word that you were coming, as common courtesy demands, so you cannot expect to see her on such short notice, especially when she is currently occupied with an urgent matter of business," replied the patient servant, "perhaps you would like to go to your room and freshen up, or perhaps you would like a bit of supper while you wait?"

The man scoffed at the servant but continued his incessant pacing in the small parlor in which he found himself. No other country or king would dare keep an emissary of the Order waiting! He could not believe the effrontery of this small kingdom on the border of nowhere, but soon the Order would hold sway over all the kingdoms within their reach, this insignificant burg and its impertinent Lady would soon feel the yoke of the Order and cower in fear at the merest hint of his wrath. Neither could he believe the temerity of that scruffy stranger in staying his hand when that cur of a boy had dared attack him and justly deserved to have his head sundered from his shoulders. Where was the respect and welcome due a man of his standing within the Order? His masters would hear of this and an example must be made, that the fear of the Order be maintained. The weary servant drew up a chair and prepared for a long night of watching the man pace.

Some time in the wee hours of the morning, the determinedly pacing man was at last interrupted that he might be led into a small chamber in which sat an exceedingly old yet regal woman. He had not meant to bow, but something in the sheer presence of the woman summoned a respect he never meant to bestow. He had meant to overpower her with awe and fear and scorn, to cow her with his wrath, rather he felt like a small boy caught by his mother in some trifling act of disobedience. The woman smiled as if she knew his mind and with a hand, beckoned him to approach, the absolute mistress of the situation.

"Lady," he began, "I have traveled over many leagues to this forsaken city of yours. The Order of the Unicorn has mandated that every major city, province, and kingdom must have a representative of the Order in place to settle minor disputes and to relieve the local authorities of the tedium of maintaining law and order, that only the most vital matters need be brought before the local authorities and by doing so, we wish only to serve the common good and those who serve justice and peace."

Instead of hearing him with reverent awe, his statement was greeted with laughter that was dangerously close to giggling, a strange sight indeed in so august a personage! "You have no idea who we are?" asked the Lady, instantly stifling the worst of her mirth, "Of old we have been the standard for law and justice and everything peaceful and true. Are we completely forgotten? Is even our legend a secret in these troubled times?"

"I know," said the man in growing consternation, "that you are a standoffish people and have never hailed king nor lord, but have dwelt quietly in your little valley far away from the dwellings of other men. Were you warlike you would soon enough have been dealt with by greater nations, but as you seek only your own ends and this outpost on the edge of forever is of no interest to anyone but yourselves, you have been left largely in peace, but the time is coming when no rogue state or city will be allowed to follow its own course. All must unite and fight together the great evil that is brewing in the world. You must unite with the rest of the world under the banner of the Unicorn or you will be cut off and destroyed. We are your only chance of survival."

The old woman seemed lost in thought, "it seems only a few short years ago that we were known in all lands as purveyors of knowledge, wisdom, and justice. Long have we acted in secret but our presence is no less vibrant in the world, though we have dwindled of late. Our span of years is thrice that or more of other men, but can the years have so swiftly passed us by? We have dwindled not only in number but also in memory and significance! These are grave tidings indeed. We are failing in our quest. We must come out of the shadows and renew our efforts to reach the lost and hopeless! A great evil you say? Yes, a great evil indeed lurks out there, greater than even you can imagine. But the evil I am most concerned with is our own laxity of late. We have fallen into myth and decay out of a fear for our own lives. But no more! We must break out of this coffin in which we have entombed ourselves, shake off the dust, and rock the foundations of the world once more!" The man was thoroughly confused as to what the old woman was musing about, but apparently it had her greatly agitated. Perhaps she was senile? She seemed to have forgotten him entirely. "Angbar!" she cried, as a servant shuffled in, "Call a General Assembly immediately! Everyone is to attend, even the newest recruit. Rouse those lazy sluggards from their beds. I do not care if it is not yet dawn."

"Yes Lady," said the confused servant, as he bowed and dashed out of the room.

She then directed her hawk-like gaze at her guest and continued, "thank you, young man for these tidings that have roused this slumbering old bear into action. As for your offer of maintaining peace and justice within the bounds of my land, I thank you but we have been doing quite well without you for the last few millennia and I think will be doing just that when your Order has passed out of memory."

"But," started the man, "it is not a request or an offer. It is a mandate by the High Council of the Order of the Unicorn. You must!"

"I must nothing!" laughed the old woman, "I doubt any of your high and mighty council has ever even glimpsed a unicorn, yet you have the audacity to order around a woman who has seen The Unicorn and received this position with His blessing? Now off with you. Go and tell all your masters how ill-used you have been. Declare war on us if you will. We have heard it all before and survived worse. I have no time to deal with your self-important schemes, for I have a rabble to rouse!" With a delighted laugh, she sprang from her chair and skipped off like a girl on a feast day. A servant appeared and the dumbfounded man followed obediently, mounted his waiting horse, and rode off into the grey morning.

### Chapter 2

Tristan had hardly had time to return to his chambers and clean up before the clang of the meeting bell summoned all of the Brethren to a General Assembly. The Lady stood in the middle of the floor of the dining hall, waiting for all to assemble and quiet to ensue. Silence engulfed the room as many bleary but eager eyes focused upon her, said she, "a member of the self-proclaimed Order of the Unicorn appeared before me today offering his protection from the gathering evil we all feel encroaching upon all we know and love." Ironic mirth echoed through the Hall, as she continued, "of course I sent him packing, but the fact that he comes into the very heart of Astoria and has no idea who or what we are was worrying enough that I roused all of you from your beds and called this meeting. Apparently, we are all but forgotten in the minds of other men, great or small! What has happened to our mission? We are afraid of what? Death? What hold has death on any of us? Is it not our greatest honor to die in this service?

How many are dying because we are afraid to die? I call upon each of you, from the least to the greatest, to put aside your fear and grasp firmly to our purpose and spread the Truth to all people and all lands. Evil is rampant in the world. Despair haunts the steps of the common folk. Power, corruption, and greed rule in all lands. Justice and mercy are forgotten. I command you to go forth boldly and proclaim the Truth, and if necessary, die in the process. It is far better to die doing our duty than to be found safely hiding within these walls as the world perishes around us. I do not mean to face the Master one day and have to explain to Him why we have been caught sleeping. We have each taken an Oath, and now I am calling upon you to fulfill it. Secrecy may be needed on occasion, but now is not the hour. Get out there and do your duty. Quit hiding in the shadows and jumping at mice. Go out and shake the very foundations of the world as we were created to do. May the Master ride with you!" With that, she withdrew and the crowd broke into an excited uproar.

The Council of Six was shortly thereafter summoned to a meeting with the Lady. As her closest advisors, she needed their insight into how to waken this sleeping giant. "You heard my speech," asked she dryly, "now what?"

The Council consisted of two members of each major sect of the Brethren: the Warriors, the Philosophers, and the Teachers, and were accounted the wisest and most experienced of their particular sect. They debated and discussed late into the morning, and as the sun reached its noon peak, they emerged from the chamber tired but firm in their purpose and excited about their plans, as they had not been in years beyond memory. Over the years, the Brethren had fallen into complacency, as had every other corner of civilization. Hopefully, they had not been roused too late to face the utter darkness that again was threatening to consume the world. It had been decided that the Teaching sect would ride forth immediately with as many as could be spared from teaching the Students and Apprentices; word would be sent to those already in the field that the time for secrecy was over and they should boldly speak wherever they found an audience or receptive ear.

Perhaps a message of hope in a world of deepening despair would again reach the hearts of the masses as it had in former days before fear for their lives had driven the Brethren to go about in secret. The Philosopher sect was to send its advisors to all known kings, princes, lords, generals, and leaders. Those already placed, were to come out of the shadows and openly advise the various rulers of the dangers lurking ahead. The Warrior sect was to openly pursue criminals within the bounds of kingdoms and principalities, as well as maintaining their defense of the northern borders of civilization, to keep evil things of the Wilds from wandering into civilized lands. They were also to advise any ruler that requested it, in the defense of their country from external threats. It was a call joyfully received and enacted by all, for this is what they had been born to do.

Amidst all this commotion, the boy felt utterly lost in the confusion; everyone seemed to be running around preparing for some great event or journey. Horses were saddled, bags were packed, supplies were loaded, and goodbyes were said. The boy felt very small and alone amidst the chaos, as frenzy continued well into the evening, the boy felt he had been completely forgotten, when a firm hand gripped his shoulder and he looked hopefully up into the eyes of Tristan. He smiled down at the boy and said, "you are not forgotten."

Together they walked into the dining hall for supper. In the chaos of the day, almost a quarter of the population had left on one errand or another and another third was to leave on the morrow. The boy asked what all the fuss was about, Tristan mentioned something about a stirred anthill, and the boy laughed while the man smiled. After they had eaten, they retreated to the boy's small room.

"I have traveled abroad for almost a year," said Tristan, "so I am allowed a brief respite before my next assignment, but time grows short, evening is falling, and night comes. A great darkness is lurking beyond sight or hearing, but it hungers to plunge the world into utter desolation. It was driven back long ago, but ever it yearns to strike out anew in another attempt to overthrow all that is good and right and true. Its malevolence and strength have grown with the years and its time is drawing nigh to again try plunging the world into utter night, to remake all in its own image. We have ever been harbingers of that darkness, trying to turn the hearts of men to justice and light, but over the years our influence has waned and our messengers have gone unheeded. What you saw today was the rousing of all our strength in one last, great push for Truth. The time is coming when all mortal hearts must decide on whose side they stand."

"On whose side?" asked the perplexed boy.

Continued the man, "on the side of darkness, evil, and the Enemy, or on the side of goodness, light, and the Master."

The boy looked askance at the man, as if he was sitting with a grown man who truly believed in monsters under the bed. All his life he had heard fairy tales about the so-called Master of All and how he had driven away evil for a time and about the Brethren, men who rode unicorns and spread the Truth and fought evil. But he had never seen anything to suggest that such tales could possibly be true. The man looked down at the boy with a knowing light in his eyes; well did he understand the boy's doubts.

"You doubt there is any such thing as the Master or the Brethren I think," mused Tristan wistfully. The boy looked at the man with awe, as if he could read minds. "I once thought the same," replied he. "As a boy, my mother took ill and died and my father went mad with grief and took his own life. I was left alone without friend, family, or protection in a dark and dangerous world. If I had ever believed in the Master, I then decided that in a world of such pain and injustice there could be no being that is truly love incarnate. I became a petty thief, stealing what I could just to survive. One day I was caught and brought before a magistrate who sentenced me to a prison camp where I would spend my few remaining days quarrying stone. But then a man seated next to the magistrate whispered in his ear. The magistrate turned his gaze upon me and spoke, 'this man will take full responsibility for you and spare you the horrors of the quarry, but you must go with him and do as you are told. If you disobey or runaway, you will be tossed into the quarry and there will toil away the rest of your short and miserable life.'

I was taken from that place and brought here, where I learned many things, including that even in the midst of tragedy and horror, there is still goodness and love and mercy. Evil happens not because the Master is not real or absent, but because He has given men the choice of whether to do evil or good and there are those who choose evil. Good survives and love exists because the Master is both. Without Him the world would quickly succumb to darkness and chaos. The Master offers us the choice to both escape from evil and to fight for good. Here I learned that while tragedy and suffering happen to all, the Master gives us strength, patience, and hope to endure them and through suffering and trials we grow stronger and closer to Him. Here you will learn many useful things, even if you choose not to join the Brethren, whatever you choose, you can at least find a brighter future. I will be checking in on you every now and then over the next few weeks, but soon I must leave on another journey and may not see you for some time."

"But I am going with you," said the boy firmly.

"I am sorry," said the man sadly, "but it is forbidden for any to travel with me on such a dangerous mission save another of the Brethren or one who is vital to the success thereof. Tomorrow you may leave and go wherever it is you wish, or you can stay and learn for as long as you like, but eventually you must make a decision as to whether to take your Oath and join the Brethren or to leave at the time of your choosing, in pursuit of a goal of your own design, but for now, goodnight, and I will see you soon." He blew out the lamp and left the room.

Tristan checked in frequently with the boy, who had decided to stay for the present at least, for there was much for him to learn and he was quite enjoying himself, though some of the history and grammar were not as exciting as the swordplay and riding lessons. He even enjoyed running errands, working in the kitchens, or helping in the stables, which were considered a vital part of his training and character development. The boy seemed to be thriving in his new surroundings and for the first time in a very long time felt truly happy and eager to see what the future held. But Tristan was quite busy in his own right, for he had many people with whom he needed to discuss a plethora of topics, there was equipment to mend or replace, and he had some specific things he needed to learn before his next mission. The few weeks of his 'respite' passed swiftly, too quickly for his liking, for his next assignment was not one to which he was looking forward, but the Lady had bidden and he must fulfill his mission or die trying.

"I am off tomorrow Pallin," said Tristan to the boy, "I do not know when I shall see you again, but I will write if I get the chance, which will give you a good excuse to practice your reading." The boy did not know whether to laugh or cry and seemed to be doing a bit of both. They embraced one last time before the man walked off, a tall lonely figure retreating into the night towards an uncertain future.

Early the next morning, Tristan climbed back into the saddle he had vacated only a day prior, or so it seemed to him at such an awkward hour of the morning. The mare frisked, eager to be off once more; she was not suited to a sedentary life any more than her master, a fact he would remember once they were again upon the road. The Lady stood at his stirrup and bid him farewell, "I know this quest is not something you relish, but you are the best man for the job. Take care of yourself and let me know if you learn anything that may be of use. May the Master ride with you!" With that, she slapped the mare on the rump and the pair galloped off into the slowly waning darkness.

Galloping in the dark before dawn is a good way to get oneself killed, so he quickly reined in the mare, though she slowed only reluctantly and gave him a resentful look over her shoulder as they continued at a far more sensible pace. To be on the road again did hold some excitement for him as well as for the mare, but his destination was far from stimulating. He hated the uncertainty and possible futility of his latest assignment, but it was vital to the Lady and any course of action the Brethren might take in the near future. As his body and mind readjusted to the familiar rigors of travel, he began to enjoy every moment of the ride to Waymeet, or at least as much as he could with the future looming before him dark and uncertain. The Order of the Unicorn was going to hold a recruiting drive there in a few days and he was going to sign up! This had to be one of the craziest things he had ever attempted in over a century of impossible quests, but the Lady knew what she was doing so he had to trust her, as ever was his wont. Neither was Aria excited about the venture, but she had done far more peculiar things in her life and it was her duty to keep her rider out of as much trouble as she possibly could, someone had to! It still amused her that she was a unicorn pretending to be a horse who might one day pretend to be a unicorn, at least if the Lady's plan was successful; it was certainly a mess but she did enjoy the irony.

They arrived in Waymeet just in time for the evening meal at the inn. The inn itself was packed with prospective Order recruits and the best Tristan could do was to bed down in the hayloft. The mare would have had to be picketed in the woods as the stable was packed with horses, but as she wasn't truly a clueless horse, Aria was left to find her own shelter for the night, which was much more to her liking than any cramped stall with dusty straw for bedding. Near the edge of town, he dismounted, removed her tack, which he hid under a handy brush pile, and shouldered the saddlebags. It would arouse too many questions if he was seen loosing his horse into the woods, or if anyone saw him carrying around a saddle with no horse to go with it. It was much better that people simply assumed he had come in on foot and in such a throng, he would hardly be noticed. Tristan scavenged a hunk of cheese and a bit of stale bread for the evening meal, which was apparently all the inn had left, for they were hardly expecting such a crowd, as the Order was not in particular favor with the common people, but there were those who saw it as their chance to become rich and powerful, though perhaps not respected by too many people, but then one couldn't have everything! Many had traveled days just to take part in the trials on the morrow. Tristan climbed into the loft and tried not to bump any of the half dozen other men trying to sleep in the dusty hay, wondering idly if perhaps he should not do as the unicorn and seek his own shelter for the night under an obliging bush.

The morning dawned crisp and clear as only an autumn morning can. Tristan wandered down to the river and washed the dust from his face and hands; he made a breakfast of cold water and provisions from his saddlebag, not about to risk breakfast at the inn after such a dismal supper. When he had eaten and cleaned-up, he found and saddled the mare, who had had a much better night than he did; he never knew a man could snore like that, he had met quieter bears! He led the mare out into the hay meadow that was to host the day's trials, early as he was, there was already a line of men waiting to register with a rather portly fellow sitting under a striped canopy. Tristan led the mare over to the copse of trees that was the unofficial hitching post and left her there, though she laid her ears back when he told her to be a good girl and stay put. He gave her a wry look, got in line, and waited for his turn to register.

"Name?" asked the bored looking registrar.

"Tristan," said the man.

"Age?"

"Umm...35, give or take a century," said Tristan. He was one hundred and thirty-five but that would be difficult to explain. The man raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Occupation?"

"Mercenary?" said Tristan.

The registrar looked at him with complete disbelief, "you do not know your own occupation?"

"I am just not sure how to boil it down into a one word answer," replied Tristan simply.

"Home?"

"I grew up near Rune's Ford on the border of the Wilds," said Tristan. Once upon a time, it had actually been his home, but not in well over a century.

"Reasons for joining the Order?"

"I would like to dedicate my life and skills to a worthy cause rather than renting them out to the highest bidder," said he. The registrar raised a quizzical eyebrow again but did not laugh, though he might have smirked a bit. Tristan was quite proud of that answer, it had taken him the better part of two days to come up with it. The smirk hurt.

"You are number 57, you may proceed to the next station." He took the sheet of paper handed to him by the clerk and approached the line of men waiting their turn halfway across the field.

The trials consisted of various physical disciples: archery, riding, fencing, hand-to-hand combat, and a written test that covered everything from basic reading and writing skills to mathematics, history, literature, philosophy, logic, and geography. The applicants were divided into five groups, each of which would rotate through each exercise. His first area would be archery, which simply involved shooting five arrows and receiving a score for how close each one came to the center of the target. The written test was next, but that did not prove too difficult for someone of his background and education. During the swordplay he faced off with first one and then another of the applicants and then with one of the supervising members of the Order; he did the same with the hand-to-hand combat. The score of each was based on how well the three observing judges thought he excelled in the areas of balance, footing, defense, attack, and overall technique, winning was not so much the goal as showcasing one's skills. The equestrian trial was last. Horses were provided for those without a suitable mount, which was the majority of the recruits, who had wandered in on foot or borrowed their father's plow or carthorse. The mare was frisking excitedly as he led her towards the starting point; this trial would judge how well he could ride in a variety of situations.

First, the judges examined the mare head to foot to make sure she was sound; they also inspected his tack to make sure he was not somehow planning to cheat. She put up with the inspection as best she could, but her tail swished in obvious irritation and she rolled her eyes dramatically as each foot was lifted and scrutinized. Once she had passed inspection, he was given the signal to begin. The trial would be timed with points given or taken for how well he responded to the variety of obstacles along the way. The first part was simply a gallop across the meadow to see if he could keep his seat at full speed. On the far side of the field he entered a small wooded area that climbed steeply uphill before descending along a trail that snaked through overhanging branches and fallen logs. He then had to swim his mount across a river, flowing swift and cold. The final leg brought him back through the meadow where a dead snake on a string, pulled by a hidden handler, moved across the path and was meant to test his ability to handle a panicked horse. The mare simply snorted with disgust at the dead reptile, daintily jumped over it, and quickly finished the course.

If they miraculously got through testing all the recruits in one day, they would still have to tabulate everyone's score, which could take days. Not everyone who applied to join the Order was accepted, for they wanted the most intelligent and skilled individuals they could lay hands on. Some of the unskilled recruits that showed obvious promise, either in the physical and/or the mental disciplines, would be taken under consideration for further training depending on the current needs of the Order. Those who excelled at both or either, would quickly be snatched up, put into a rigorous training program, and would soon be on their way to becoming active members of the organization. Now all they had to do was wait.

As it turned out, they were able to finish by nightfall, though just barely. The participants were tired, but exhilarated and no one could sleep because of their excitement, so the innkeeper rolled out several kegs of the local ale, brought out what food he had left, and an impromptu celebration was soon underway. A few of the men soon broke out their instruments and started to play a lively tune, which tempted some of the locals to come out and join the fray, and very soon a full-fledged dance was underway in the meadow. A bonfire was lit nearby just to enliven things and a good time was had by all. Tristan was content to sit on the edge of the woods and watch the goings-on with a mug of ale and a hunk of bread while Aria grazed contentedly nearby. A couple of would-be Knights wandered in his direction and sat down.

"Why are you not joining the party?" asked a short, freckled man.

"This may be all you get out of this whole ordeal," laughed the other, a tall bearded fellow.

"I am content just to watch," said Tristan.

"Too bad," said freckles, "some of the local girls are not too bad looking."

"At least in the dark," laughed his friend.

"If I was interested in girls I would not be trying out for the Order," said Tristan.

"No fun at all is he Otis?" said the freckled man to his friend.

"No he aren't," agreed Otis.

"Sorry to disappoint you," smiled Tristan archly.

"You seemed to do rather well on all the tests," said freckles more conversationally.

"Fair enough I suppose," said Tristan, "hopefully we will know tomorrow."

Otis shrugged noncommittally and freckles nodded, then both headed back to the party. Tristan watched them go, wondering if either would make the cut, Otis at least probably had not passed the written test.

### Chapter 3

Dawn came early but Tristan did not greet it as he usually did. He had fallen asleep leaning against a tree and was cold and stiff from his unusual sleeping arrangements. Aria was nuzzling him gently, but it was far too early for such a greeting, or for much anything else for that matter. A ghostly grey light suffused the world, mist and dew lay thick on everything, ere the sun's rising. He felt very cold, wet, and tired, Tristan looked hopefully towards the fire, but it had sputtered out in the waning night. With a sigh he rose and walked to the river for his morning ablutions. After his very cold cleansing, he headed back towards the meadow where people were starting to stir, he grinned wryly to see them waking as reluctantly as himself. Most seemed to have fallen asleep wherever they happened to run out of energy, some of the sleeping places made his tree look a feather bed!

A bugle sounded somewhere in the brume, a chorus of surprised yells, as if an eldritch echo, followed as the remaining sleepers were startled from their slumber. A senior Knight emerged with a roll of official looking parchment and nailed it to a large oak in the center of the meadow; they must have been tabulating all night. A crowd quickly gathered around the posted results, the eager throng emitted an occasional celebratory cheer but more often came a dispirited moan. Tristan waited until the majority of the recruits had had their chance and the rejects had melted away into the fog. Next to number 57 was written a small note: please report to the Captain immediately. He wondered what that could portend, but wasted no time in complying, making his way quickly towards the central pavilion that had been erected in the meadow. A small group of successful recruits was milling around the tent as he approached but none dared venture within.

The sun was on the rise, dispersing the damp and fog as some warmth crept back into the world. Tristan ducked inside the tent, ignoring someone outside as he yelled after, "I would not go in there! They told us to wait here."

"How many times must I tell you to wait outside," bellowed a grumpy looking clerk, his back to the entrance flap, but sensing the intrusion if not seeing it.

"I am number 57," said Tristan calmly, "the parchment said to report to the captain immediately."

"Oh," shrugged the clerk, the disgust vanishing and calm neutrality resuming command of his countenance, "then follow me." The bony little man escorted him into the back of the tent which was walled off with hanging canvas drapes, and led him into a sort of makeshift office area where a large, muscular man reclined in a camp chair behind a desk constructed of trunks and boxes.

"Number 57!," said the Captain, "So at last I meet our victor."

"Victor?" queried Tristan.

"Why yes!" cried the Captain gleefully, "You outscored everyone else two to one. If I did not know better, I would say you had done this a few times before or had bribed the judges or something, but as that is not the case, you must be a man of extraordinary talent. Please sit down." Tristan took a seat on the shaky camp chair proffered by the clerk, who then withdrew and left the two alone. The Captain resumed, "usually we take these raw recruits, stick them in a unit commanded by a seasoned officer, and send them on a tour of the border between the North Countries and the Wilds. This gives them field experience, weeds out any cowards that slipped through, and gets them used to a military hierarchy. You however, I think would be wasted on such an expedition. What is your experience in leading a group of men through hostile territory? I see from your file that you have some experience as a mercenary."

Surprised at the course his mission had suddenly taken, Tristan cleared his throat and began, "I was orphaned as a boy, and since then I have tagged along with, and have occasionally led, bands of armed men on various expeditions and missions, even into the heart of the Wilds; I also have plenty of experience scouting alone."

"And would you feel comfortable leading a group of these raw recruits yourself?" asked the Captain.

"Sir," he replied, "I would feel comfortable leading them, but I hardly know how this Order of yours works! I do not know the rules and regulations; how could I possibly train them to your specifications?"

"If that is your only concern then you have yourself a command," smiled the Captain. The officer stood and Tristan did the same, the Captain smiled broadly and clapped Tristan on the back, "you have your orders, Lieutenant! My secretary will brief you." As if by magic, a short, bird-like man appeared and led the dazed Tristan away. Things had most definitely taken an unthinkable turn!

The little man left him in the hands of several minor officers and clerks; they spent the greater part of the day going over rules, regulations, doctrine, maps, and a variety of other information vital to the success of his mission. He was to take a group of six new recruits (from the very group assembled outside the tent awaiting further orders) and spend three months on a tour of the Wilds. He was to turn a half-dozen farm boys into a group of competent soldiers within that time. Tristan was not sure how this temporary exile to the Wilds might benefit his mission for the Lady, but it was the only way to infiltrate the Order so it was how he must proceed. Although three months in the Wilds would not bring any meaningful insight into the future plans of the Order immediately, perhaps it would bear fruit later. As the sun hovered over the western hills, he was escorted to yet another tent and equipped with a uniform and the assorted gear he would need on his upcoming expedition. That night he was allowed to sleep in the officers' tent (the other recruits had to sleep outside in a cold drizzle) though he slept little, as his mind kept buzzing over the bizarre turn his life had taken in the last twelve hours. Early the next morning, everyone was roused from their beds and assembled in the meadow in a mockery of military precision.

The Captain paced slowly back and forth before the assembled ranks, giving an encouraging speech that challenged those present to train hard and go forth for the glory of the Order. He then dismissed them to the care of their unit commanders and withdrew to his tent. The new recruits had been divided into groups of six, each under the command of a junior officer. Tristan's group eyed him curiously, as several of them recognized him from the trials as a novice himself. Yesterday they had received their orientation to the Order and were vaguely familiar with what they were to face over the next few months, though after was anyone's guess, but first they had to survive the next three months. They had also been issued uniforms, swords, a bow and arrows, bedrolls, water skins, and the other miscellaneous equipment required for their journey. Horses were provided for those who lacked an adequate mount, though the quality of the beasts might not be what they had hoped when first they decided to try out for the Order, it was far better than walking, but hardly the unicorns imagined, and all but promised, by all the hype and propaganda perpetuated by the Order.

"Get packed up and let us be on our way," said Tristan to his wide-eyed neophytes. They just stood there and gazed about them blankly, like a herd of bewildered sheep. "I said move it," bellowed Tristan. This jolted them out of their reverie and sent them scurrying for their packs. Within half an hour, they were all mounted and riding single file towards their assigned patrol route through the Wilds. It would take almost a week in the saddle before they even reached the official start of their patrol route, but in that time Tristan could start turning these soldier-wannabes into the real thing. Their path was to take them on a zigzag course between the Wilds and the borders of the more civilized North Countries. Their assignment was simply to 'maintain order,' wherever they went. There would probably be run-ins with bandits, outlaws, and the strange, evil things that flourished in those untamed lands.

The Wilds were uncharted and unclaimed by any sovereign power; it was a haunt of things evil and dark, and of men who did not want to be found. There were scattered settlements, but at best they were a gathering place for scoundrels and scofflaws. Anything and anyone could be lurking out there, making it the perfect place to turn a ragtag group of boys into a cohesive fighting unit. The Warrior sect of the Brethren often rode the borders, serving as a guard between peaceful folk and those forces that would murder them in their beds; they hunted down or chased off many vile and evil creatures (and men) that would otherwise terrorize quieter lands. Tristan glanced back at the file of men behind him, he could only smile in wonder at the strange adventure that loomed before him.

They rode until nearly dark, they drew rein and camped in a small grove of trees next to a little stream, merry in the twilight. Camp chores were assigned on a rotating basis, and with practice, they were able to set-up camp, prepare the evening meal, stand watch, and break camp in a swift and efficient manner. Tristan felt that on this first night on their own he should address his men; he wanted to set the rules and answer any questions that they might have. He motioned for them to seat themselves on a couple of fallen logs facing him, the fire crackling happily before them; they did so, but only with much groaning and grumbling, as they were far more used to walking behind a plow than riding all day, but their aching muscles would adapt soon enough to such novel exercise. Tristan smiled to himself as he remembered his first few weeks in like circumstances, they would likely survive, no matter how they felt tonight.

"Welcome to the real thing," he began, "many of you were hoping for glory and riches, but if that is your desire or destiny, you have a very long way to go and much work ahead of you. We will be riding many long miles and facing unknown dangers, but when we come out the other side you will be much stronger for it and ready to take on your next great challenge, but until that day you are under my command and I expect you to behave as such. If I say jump, you jump. You are free to leave at any time, but you will not be allowed to rejoin once you have left; I can also dismiss you from this unit if I feel you are unfit for duty or have become a problem. This is very wild country through which we will be riding, and I need each of you to obey every command as if your life depended upon it because it often will. I may not have worn this uniform any longer than you, but I have led men into danger before and often venture forth alone, just under a different banner.

The rules are simple: you do as you are told when you are told, you ask permission before doing anything you have not been told to do, no drinking, no women, no gambling, no fighting, no foul language, no stealing. That means if you are hungry, you do not raid someone's field or demand that he feed you. If you have not packed it, bought it, or hunted it, you do not eat it. If we meet a local and he invites us in for supper, that is fine, but you will not flaunt your uniform and sword and demand that he feed you. If you feel the need to chase after a woman, you had better leave the unit to do so, even if a woman offers herself to you, you will not engage in any sort of inappropriate behavior with her or you will be expelled from this company. The rules may seem overbearing and strict, but I need all of your energy and attention focused on our mission. Any distraction hinders your progress as soldiers and endangers the unit as a whole. Anyone who has a question can feel free to ask it now."

The men looked at their new commander and saw the dead seriousness in his eyes and manner; no one dared bring up the fact that he had only worn the uniform as long as they, and what gave him the right to command? In the flickering light of the fire, they saw that although the uniform was new, he wore it as if he was born to it. There were a few nervous questions about training, provisions, and the dangers ahead, but most of them silently wondered what they had volunteered for. Shortly thereafter, they retired to their bedrolls, though one man had to stay up on guard duty for a couple hours before he was allowed to seek his blankets. Far too early the next morning, Tristan roused them from their beds and after a light breakfast, had them practice with their swords and bows for a couple hours. Then it was back into the saddle, with many a groan of agony, only to ride most of the day. Late in the afternoon, they stopped to rest the horses and practiced hand-to-hand combat and then rode on until it was nearly dark.

A week passed thus before they reached the borders of civilization, where their actual patrol was to begin. As they rode, Tristan guided them away from inhabited country and led them a merry chase through rocky wastes, up and down steep hills, weaving through overgrown woods, across rushing rivers, and any other obstacle he could find to challenge their riding skills. As the week progressed, they began to trust and respect their leader more and more, became less apt to whine about sore muscles or saddle sores, and grew closer as a unit. He drew them away from inhabited areas to force them to depend on one another for camaraderie, and because he did not quite trust them loose in civilized country yet. Their skills began to sharpen and improve, their bodies to toughen and acclimate to long hours in the saddle and extended periods of activity with odd sleep patterns and situations, and by the end of the week, they considered themselves experienced campaigners, although they still had a very long way to go.

One problem with so much training and riding was that it required a lot of energy, which in turn required a lot of food, and since they were not traveling with a packhorse and did not have much time to hunt or forage, they only had what food they could carry in their saddlebags, which limited their ability to stray far from the verge of civilization, where they might resupply as needed. After a week's travel in uninhabited areas, Tristan finally allowed his men to visit a village on the verge of the Wilds. They deserved a respite after a week of hard work, and they needed to restock their supplies. Before he let them loose on the town, he told them, "now remember what I said about conducting yourselves in public. Do not discredit your uniform. I know that others who have worn this livery have often used it to take advantage of situations like this, but you will not. You are a credit to this company and the Order and I expect you to behave accordingly. Now go enjoy yourselves, but be back to camp by midnight." Tristan took care of procuring supplies while the men headed towards the inn for some much-needed relaxation.

As the six uniformed men wandered into the inn, all eyes turned to watch, many with looks of worry or disgust. The serving girls especially looked uneasy, but when they quietly sat down by themselves at a table in the corner, everyone relaxed a little bit, secretly wondering if they were hallucinating. They politely ordered, and actually paid for, bread, stew, and tea. Tea! Whoever heard of soldiers drinking tea? The curiosity of the locals was definitely aroused, for these were the nicest, and strangest, soldiers that had ever darkened the doorway of the inn. The men would have loved to partake in copious amounts of the local brew, take advantage of the poor girls who served at table, and otherwise indulge themselves, but such was the respect they had for the words of their leader that they refrained, and to their surprise, passed a rather enjoyable evening anyway. Eventually, the curiosity of the locals overcame their fear and there was much talking, singing, and even a game or two of darts. It was nearly midnight when they bid their new friends goodnight and returned to camp. Tristan donned a hooded cloak and snuck into the inn to observe his men anonymously from a corner; he was quite pleased with their progress in every aspect of the word.

The next morning, he let them sleep in, meaning it was an hour past sunrise instead of an hour before when they rose, as today would be their first excursion into the true Wilds. They would pursue a circuitous route through the Wilds that would bring them sporadically back to more hospitable territory to rest and resupply. Once they were packed and ready to go, Tristan said, "today is our first trek into the Wilds. Be on the alert, there are evil things about, both man and beast. Our job is to 'maintain order,' which means we will chase off or destroy any evil thing we encounter. Our job is to protect the innocent people who live or travel in these forsaken lands from anything that might prey upon them. Your behavior last night at the inn was exemplary, you are to be commended, but remember such upstanding behavior is to be the rule rather than the exception, as we enter these uncivilized regions, we will meet with many whose behavior will not be so polite. You are not to use lethal force on another man unless absolutely necessary, or as deemed necessary by the Common Law after a fair trial; evil beasts may be destroyed at need. Do not let any bandits, outlaws, or other rascals we meet upon the road goad you into a fight, they will brag, scoff and insult but pay them no heed, for you know your own worth even if they do not and their uninformed and little minds can produce no insult that should arouse your anger. Trust each other and watch your backs. We ride north!" They mounted up and rode side by side into the trees.

For traveling in such infamous territory, their first patrol through it was rather unremarkable. They met no one for the whole ten-day ride and only rarely glimpsed the retreating shadow of some dark creature vanishing into the depths of the forest. There were evil things about, but most were solitary creatures that did not dare confront a large and well-armed party. They continued to alternate their riding with training sessions, each day their skills and confidence grew. After ten days on the road, their supplies dwindled and the men were growing weary of always traveling and watching for enemies. That evening Tristan led them towards a village he knew on the verge of the Wilds.

They had been watched however, a dark figure ghosted through the trees and stood in the middle of the path, barring their way. A cloaked man on a dark horse, both seemingly a part of the dusk itself, brandished a sword, sharply reining his mount to face the intruders. "You will not pass," said he in a menacing voice, "these people have suffered much from the likes of you and you will not trouble them again. Be gone and never return!" Some of the horses danced a little, picking up their riders' anxiety; this was the first true challenge they had ever faced, everything else had been mere practice. But Tristan looked neither nervous nor concerned, in fact he seemed to be smiling. True it was only one man, but one well-trained man was still dangerous to a company of green recruits. "Be gone I say," repeated the man, "I do not wish to hurt you, but if you push matters I will do what I must."

Tristan's company just stood there, as if rooted to the earth. "We mean only to pass through the village and buy supplies," said Tristan, "we have been traveling for many days and our food is running low. We will not trouble the locals, but ask only to be allowed to buy supplies and rest for the night."

The stranger made a peculiar noise as Tristan finished, as if he was trying to hide a laugh. "That is what every member of your vile Order says, but in the end it all comes to naught," persisted the stranger, "this is your last warning; be gone!" With that, he began to approach at a menacing walk.

The soldiers loosened their swords in their sheaths, preparing to face the stranger in battle, but Tristan held up a hand signaling them not to draw their weapons. The horses tossed their heads and snorted in fear, for as the stranger neared, a feeling of imminent danger and awe hummed in the air, the very leaves seemed to quiver with it. One of the horses whinnied in fear and started to buck, he wanted to run but his rider held him firm. Just a few feet from Tristan, the dark horse stopped.

"GO!" said the stranger. Every fiber in the recruits and their mounts wanted to flee, but Tristan held them firm; his mare did not move a muscle. The stranger's horse reared and ceased blending into the night, rather he shone forth like the full moon on snowy fields, snorting and pawing the air, with a menacing fire burning in his eyes, but the moon had not yet risen, though he glowed with the light of it; silver flashed from his hooves and the horn on his head. The stranger's cloak was thrown back to reveal silver armor that shone in the light of his mount, his sword held high. This was too much for the horses: they reared, bucked, or fled. Four recruits picked themselves up from the ground only to stare in awestruck horror at the glowing beast before them. Two had unsheathed their swords, facing what seemed moonlight in the guise of a warrior, while the other two froze with fear. Tristan stood firm while Aria shook her head and rolled her eyes, unimpressed by the other's theatrics.

"Put up your swords," said Tristan to his two functional men; they reluctantly complied. The unicorn had quit pawing the air and stood patiently waiting for something to happen.

"Why do you not run?" asked the rather confused stranger, for no mortal horse could long stand the full, unveiled beauty of a unicorn.

"I have nothing to fear," said Tristan, trying desperately to hide a knowing grin, "and neither would you if you were paying more attention. What I said before is true, we are simply here to rest and buy supplies. And now I hope you will believe what I say?"

The stranger took a better look at Tristan, smiling ruefully as understanding suddenly dawned in his eyes. "I see," gasped he, "I do not understand, but things are as they are." The unicorn abruptly veiled himself in darkness, appearing nothing more intimidating than a rangy sorrel gelding; the stranger was simply a cloaked rider, his sword had vanished. "I do apologize for the misunderstanding," he said, "but we have had much trouble with the Order in these parts before, I was simply trying to spare the local people more anguish."

"You do not need to explain your actions," smiled Tristan, "though you could have spared us all some trouble had you been more observant." The mare snorted in emphasis. "Now you can rectify most of the damage by chasing down my missing horses, including those that fled with their riders." The stranger took off in the direction the horses had fled; Tristan dismounted to help his flabbergasted men to their feet and they continued on foot to the inn. On this occasion, each man was allowed a mug of wine to help calm his shaken nerves. An hour later, the two missing men and the stranger walked into the inn. The horses had been retrieved no worse for wear, and though the men had taken a grievous wound to their pride, they were otherwise uninjured.

The two missing men took their seats next to their comrades as the stranger stood beside the table and said, "I do apologize for the misunderstanding, but men in uniforms such as yours have brought nothing but trouble and heartache to this village. But your leader here seems to be a responsible young man and for his sake, I will trouble you no further. I wish all members of your Order could be as he is; learn well by his example!"

After the stranger retreated from the inn, one of the men leaned towards Tristan and asked, "what was that all about?"

"That," laughed Tristan, "was one of the Brethren and his unicorn rising up to defend the defenseless."

"The Brethren?" asked the confused recruit, "I thought they were a myth or part of the Order or something. Was that a real unicorn?"

Tristan nodded, "the Brethren exist, if not in so great a number as they once did, and they must often go about in secret, but they are an honorable folk, though in these uncertain times they have taken to hiding their identities and have perhaps become too quick to challenge those they think are threatening the innocent. He was simply trying to protect the people of this village, who have been greatly abused by others in uniforms similar to yours. You would do well to remember what kind of an example others have set before you in the name of the Order, and think about what kind of a name do you want to leave for yourselves? I would have you leave a good example and have your purpose be to defend the defenseless, not to parade around in all your ill-gotten glory taking advantage of the less fortunate as others have done, perhaps then receptions like this will be a thing of the past and you will be welcomed as heroes, rather than villains. And yes, that was a real unicorn, though you seldom see them, but this one showed his true form to scare off your horses, they have become as mythic as the Brethren. Perhaps your next sighting will not be in fear, and you can truly appreciate how majestic they truly are."

The men calmed a bit as he explained and were soon eagerly discussing the events of the night amongst themselves. They were alone in the inn except for the innkeeper, as all the locals had been warned of their presence and sought shelter at home. It had been a long day and they happily sought their beds, and for once, they were actually staying at an inn and sleeping in real beds. Tomorrow was to be a day with nothing scheduled, that they might rest or do as they pleased. They were sleeping three men to a room, though Tristan had the luxury of a room to himself. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, a figure crept in the open window of Tristan's room and shut it silently behind him; the intruder closed the heavy curtains and lit the lamp.

"You certainly pick an odd time to come a-calling Raul," said Tristan sleepily from the bed, "you could have come earlier in the evening or later in the morning."

"I assumed you would rather not have anyone know that we have had more than a passing conversation, so I had to wait until everyone in the entire village was asleep," grinned the intruder, "there is one particular old lady determined not to go to bed until all her beloved cats are accounted for of an evening."

"It is good to see you," laughed Tristan, "you are probably wondering why I am riding with this disreputable outfit?"

"That had crossed my mind," replied Raul with a chuckle, "as usually the interests of the Brethren and the Order have little in common."

"Well, it is the interests of the Order that interest the Lady," said Tristan, "I am the lucky fellow she chose to infiltrate their organization and this is where I ended up: on the edge of civilization trying to turn six farm boys into soldiers. I have no idea how this will end, but such is my mission. What about you?"

"I am spending most of my time chasing evil things back across the border and trying to keep bandits and people like you from taking advantage of the locals under my charge," smiled Raul, adding more soberly, "the beastly things we are used to seeing deep within the Wilds are now lurking on its very borders. Evil is stirring and we will be hard pressed to turn it back if it makes a concerted effort." This was grave news, but not surprising. Evil seemed to be abroad and growing all over the world, civilized or not, something was brewing but only time would tell what. They talked well into the night and the sun was on the rise before Raul crept silently out into the misty morning; it had been good to see one of his comrades, if only briefly. Tristan still could not understand how Raul could look directly at him and not see what he was, for the Brethren had the ability to discern one another by sight. Perhaps he had not been expecting to find a Brother in the ranks of the Order and so had not been looking for one. Whatever the reason, it was time he got a little sleep, thankfully it would be several hours before any of the others were abroad.

### Chapter 4

Two hours of sleep was hardly enough to get by on, but it might draw suspicions if he slept too long. He found all but one of his men in the common room eating breakfast with the other hastening sheepishly in shortly thereafter. There was much spirited discussion as to the proper use of the day, for no one had had any free time in recent memory, but first they had to see to restocking supplies, tending to their horses, and repairing or replacing any damaged or lost equipment. The villagers eyed the intruders skeptically but were happy to take their money in exchange for goods and services. Several of the older girls gazed with sparkling eyes upon the soldiers as they went about their business, but Tristan and their fathers chased them away before they could do more than sigh longingly. Word quickly spread that these soldiers were not as bad as the usual members of their Order, and soon a banquet was organized in their honor. In anticipation of the festivities, the men bathed for the first time in weeks, much to everyone's relief, and that evening there was much food, fun, and music, but it was early to bed, as they must leave very early the next morning.

They had been on the trail again two days when they came upon a small cottage on the verge of the forest, where a woman sat out front crying. Tristan dismounted and approached the sobbing woman, at first she looked as if she would flee at sight of his uniform, but something in his face or manner stayed her flight. "Why do you cry lady?" asked Tristan gently.

"My daughter went looking for a strayed cow three days ago, nothing has been seen of her since," wept she, "I am afraid some evil has befallen her! I would go after her but I must stay here with my younger children and my husband is abroad on business."

"We will go after your daughter if you will give us her name, description, and the direction she went," replied he. The woman smiled through her tears and complied with his request. Tristan explained the situation to his men, some smiled at the thought of rescuing a damsel in distress while others rolled their eyes at wasting their time chasing lost girls and wandering cows. They divided into two parties, one led by Tristan and the other by a quiet, but capable man called Bristol. The girl's tracks were fairly obvious at the first, but as they climbed towards rockier ground, they grew faint and then nonexistent. Tristan knew well the dangers of the Wilds, especially for a girl abroad alone at night, and hoped fervently there was still aught to find.

There were a few peasants who dared the Wilds in hopes of finding freedom from the oppression of the ruling class, but they traded oppression for constant danger; they were free from any ruler, but they also had no one to defend them in times of trouble. Small villages of such pioneers were much safer than those who dared live alone, but each man chose as he pleased. The tracks vanished as the trail forked, Tristan's party went left while Bristol's went right, both groups agreeing to meet back at the fork in two hours, and if nothing had been found they would discuss how to proceed from there. Tristan's party followed their branch of the trail, which led them out into a small village, but no one there had seen or heard anything about either a girl or a cow. No tracks or trails led off from the main path and it was unlikely the girl would turn off on her own with no sign of the wandering cow, for the strayed beast should leave some sign of broken branches or crushed vegetation in its wake. They could do nothing but return to the rendezvous point.

Bristol's men followed their trail, which twisted and wound its way ever upwards into a land of rocky hills where nothing grew but sparse grass and such weeds as are found in barren and forgotten lands. The horses smelled something that made them uneasy, but a little encouragement from their rider's boot heels allowed them to proceed with the hunt. Along the way, one of the sharper-eyed members of the party had noticed a track here or a bit of broken branch there, at least they seemed to be on the trail of something. As they crested a steep ridge, they found much broken brush and many displaced stones, and following the trail with their eyes, saw that at the bottom of the steep bank were signs of a struggle and much blood. They carefully led their horses down the bank and examined the area, it appeared that a large animal, possibly the lost cow, had fallen down the bank, thrashed around, and then was dragged bodily away. But what could drag away a full-grown cow and how did the girl fit into the puzzle? They had no choice but to follow the trail and see where it led. The way was obvious, covering nearly three miles before they reached the end, and every so often, a large, birdlike track appeared, eliciting an uneasy exchange of glances amongst the company. The path led over a small hill, and as they topped the rise, they heard the sound of a child's singing. They exchanged confused but eager looks, continuing towards the source of the sound: it came from the depths of a cave, outside lay the half-eaten carcass of a roan cow.

"Tabitha?" called Bristol, at the mouth of the cave.

"Yes?" came the voice of a young girl.

"Are you well?" asked he.

"I am very well," replied the girl, as she appeared at the mouth of the cave, "who are you?"

"We are travelers in this forsaken land and came upon your crying mother," said Bristol, "she asked us to find you and bring you home. Why do you tarry here in this barren wasteland when your cow is obviously beyond repair and your mother despairs of ever seeing you again?"

A troubled look crossed her face, as she said, "I did not mean to trouble my mother, but Nargath has asked me to stay for awhile. He likes my singing and says he will take good care of me. Our poor cow was frightened by Nargath, she fell down the bank, and broke her leg. He put the poor old thing out of her misery and has made a meal of her."

The soldiers exchanged another confused glance and Bristol asked, "who is Nargath?"

"I am Nargath," echoed a voice from above the cave. All looked up into the glowing red eyes of an angry dragon; the men, as well as the horses, froze with terror. "Who are you?" rumbled the vast creature, "And why do you trouble my poor little bird?"

"We are travelers in this strange land and her mother sent us to find her," stuttered the terrified Bristol.

"She is not lost," growled the dragon, "she is a comfort to me in these comfortless times. She will stay where she is until I decide to send her away."

"But her mother weeps for her return," retorted Bristol meekly.

"She will get over he loss eventually, besides she has other children and must know the risks of living in the Wilds! The child is mine," hissed the dragon. He frowned pensively, "and by the look of you, you are not just 'simple travelers' but some sort of soldiers or mercenaries. Are you of that despicable brood that dares to call itself the Order of the Unicorn? As if you have even seen a real unicorn, let alone The Unicorn, bah! But it is odd that such as yourselves would stoop to take notice of a weeping woman in need? Perhaps you are not so self-important and greedy as most of that lot? Therefore, I will not destroy you immediately and will even give you a chance to prove to me that there is some reason I should let you live."

"Sir," said Bristol in dread, "allow one of my men to ride back and find our leader, that he might treat with you. A month ago, we were but simple farm boys and he has taken us on this journey to make us men. He alone has the knowledge and wisdom to answer your questions."

"Well spoken," said the dragon, "I grant your request, but be quick about it. Meanwhile, my little bird will sing for us." Bristol chose one of his men to ride back and find the others while the rest awkwardly sat down and prepared to wait. As the messenger rode away, the little girl began to sing a cheerful song that sounded eerie and wrong in that desolate land.

The man rode swiftly, dashing madly into the midst of his fellows, his horse lathered and blowing hard. "A dragon!" said Tristan, upon hearing the news, "What color was he?"

"Green," said the man.

"At least he was not black or red," mused Tristan, "black dragons are as evil as they come; a red dragon is not necessarily evil, but they are a short-tempered lot. At least a green dragon may be willing to negotiate: they love philosophy, music, and literature and there is nothing they would rather do than talk for hours on end. Some of them are evil, but the majority of them are peaceful creatures more interested in their own affairs than bothering about the rest of the world. Let us be off!" They rode off as fast as their horses could go over the climbing, rocky ground, arriving sooner than the dragon expected, forcing them to wait until the girl finished her current song.

"Thank you little one that will do for now, go take a nap in the cave while I talk to these gentlemen," said the dragon. The girl nodded sleepily and disappeared into the cave. That explains much, thought Tristan wryly to himself; no wonder he did not want to let the girl go home, he probably enjoyed her company and songs as a bedridden invalid enjoys a caged bird. This could be difficult. "Ah, the mighty leader himself," laughed the dragon grimly, "now we shall strenuously negotiate for several days; I will keep the girl and may destroy you for the fun of it, but come, let us see what you have to say first. It is long since I had a worthy opponent." Tristan hoped the creature was being sarcastic, but nothing he had ever read mentioned sarcasm as a draconian trait.

"Now these boys tell me that you are here to free my precious little bird," continued the dragon, "I caught her and she is mine, and if you must take her by force you will soon learn that seven horsemen are of little concern to a dragon of my size and age." He was right; he was a massive beast and therefore very, very old, which meant piercing his scaled hide would be like trying to pierce a paving stone with a willow wand; force was pointless, even the unicorn's horn would only dent his hide and she would not attack a dragon unless it was on the very brink of eating her, which seemed unlikely at this juncture. Negotiation would have to do, and something in the dragon's voice and manner suggested he was dying for a rousing debate.

"True, you caught her," replied Tristan calmly, "but does that truly make her yours?"

The dragon looked hopefully at his opponent, his eyes twinkling as if to say, 'this is going to be fun!'

"You state that, 'I caught her and she is mine,' but," continued Tristan, "you fail to recognize that the Common Law stipulates that, 'no sapient creature shall be held against its will by any other sapient creature not recognized as its rightful guardian unless deemed necessary for the safety of the creature in question or for the safety of other creatures impacted by said creature, as judged by an objective party.' I am sorry to mention that you do not qualify as an objective party, but I am neither guardian nor relative to this child, but was sent on this errand by her mother and otherwise have no relation to her whatsoever, I neither benefit nor suffer either by returning her to her mother or by riding off forever and leaving her to her present fate. Therefore, I judge that she should be released to my custody for safe return to her parents."

"Very good," laughed the dragon eagerly, a puff of smoke escaping his nostrils in his enthusiasm, "except that I perhaps do not recognize the Common Law as binding? It is all very well for peasants and kings but what has it to do with me?"

"You deny the authority of the Master?" asked Tristan.

"No," snarled the dragon.

"Then you must abide by the Common Law or be found either a liar or a criminal; the Common Law was given to us by the Master Himself as a guide on how to live peaceably with our fellow thinking creatures. You may deny the Master exists, deny the veracity of His Laws, or fail to abide by the Laws but you cannot logically acknowledge the Master's authority and act contradictory to His Laws without becoming either a criminal or a liar. Are you either?"

"No," growled the dragon, this was not going exactly as he had hoped.

"Then you must surrender the girl," said Tristan.

"But the Law states, 'except for the safety of the creature,' what if the girl is safer here than at home?" asked the dragon hopefully.

"She is in danger anywhere in these forsaken lands," said Tristan, "besides, you may crush her in your sleep as easily as she may break her neck falling out of her own bed at home. That clause is meant for creatures that pose a danger to themselves and need to be restrained to prevent harm from befalling them. This girl is no danger to herself, at least no more than any growing child is."

"You may claim to be an objective party," snarled the dragon, who was very unhappy with the way things were going, "but how do I know that you do not have some sort of hidden connection or agenda? I claim the right to appeal."

"You are allowed to appeal your case before the Master Himself if possible, which is highly unlikely in these latter years, or to one of His representatives, namely the Brethren," said Tristan.

"Yes," smiled the dragon triumphantly, "and since the Brethren seem few and far between, and it may be years before we can find one to rightly judge between us, I get to keep the girl in the interim. Feel free to apply to Astoria for help; you may hear back before you die of old age!"

"But," said Tristan triumphantly, "there is no reason to apply to Astoria."

"You mean," asked the dragon, staring suspiciously at Tristan and then glancing back at his patiently waiting men, who were well out of earshot, "you are one of the Brethren? I thought they went about on unicorns, not to mention that your choice of companions is quite odd."

The mare made a growling noise, or as close to a growling noise as a horse can make, and the dragon eyed her askance. Addressing the mare, he said, "you mean you are a unicorn?" She nodded. He inclined his head in a sort of bow, "forgive me madam for not greeting you properly upon our first meeting. This little disguise of yours is quite ingenious, I have not heard of it before, no wonder I have not seen any of the Brethren in many years! Perhaps I should pay a visit to your Lady? It has been a very long time." Aria seemed placated and made a bow herself, though awkward with a rider on her back. "I deem my case fairly judged and will take the girl home myself, though I would still like visiting privileges," sighed Nargath wistfully.

"Fair enough," smiled Tristan, "though you will have to work that out with her parents; I cannot imagine they would mind, especially if you offer to help protect their home from the evil things that frequent these borderlands." The dragon, seemingly content, excused himself, and accompanying the girl, tromped off towards her home. Tristan gathered his men and had them set up an early camp, as the dragon had politely asked them to stay for supper, and no one in his right mind ever said 'no' to such a request from something that could easily eat you for supper!

The men were nervous about pitching camp so near the dragon, but they trusted Tristan's judgment and feared angering their reptilian host so they quickly complied. The dragon returned carrying a couple of struggling deer, which were quickly dispatched and cooked over a roaring fire; fresh meat was a welcome addition to their diet, as they had been living on salted or dried meat seemingly forever. Tristan and the dragon talked long into the night, each was ravenous for good conversation and each had a keen mind, a wealth of knowledge to share, and many questions to ask. The men kept to their camp for the most part, but occasionally one would join the conversation for a brief period before retreating to the more mundane business of sleeping, cooking, or cleaning equipment. The conversation between their leader and the dragon was on such a level as to intimidate even the brightest of the group. Finally Tristan said he must get some sleep, though the dragon insisted they stay for at least another night and perhaps they would learn much to their advantage; Tristan agreed before seeking his blankets.

The next morning, after a breakfast of leftover venison, Tristan used the treeless moors upon which they found themselves to great advantage. The better part of the morning was spent in drilling his men in the basics of cavalry formations, attack, and defense. When he thought they had it down well enough not to accidentally kill each other, he left Bristol to lead them in drills throughout the rest of the day while he resumed his talks with Nargath. The dragon had much to say on the Wilds and the mysterious lands beyond, on the Order of the Unicorn, and on the evil that seemed to be stirring throughout the world. Nargath promised to visit the Lady and to let his fellow dragons, at least those friendly towards other creatures, know about recent events and to be on their guard and assist as they could or would. They spent another night in that cheerless hill country next to the dragon's lair, again the dragon and Tristan talked long into the night, but after a day of heavy drilling, all the men except the watchman went straight to bed. Tristan sought his blankets long after midnight, and morning came far too early, as is ever its wont in such circumstances. They bid farewell to their host, who even now was off on his own business as they were embarking on theirs, mounting their horses, they headed back towards the woods and further adventures.

### Chapter 5

Another two weeks passed without Tristan able to make much more of a note in his logbook than the various exercises and practice sessions through which he led his men. It was a welcome break in their otherwise eventful journey, but it could not last; peace never lasted long in these unquiet lands, especially during troubled times. One evening, as they were scouting for a campsite, they came upon a caravan of gypsies with their wagons parked in wide clearing through which the path wended. Aria gave a shrill cry of battle, before Tristan knew what had happened, she was charging into the fray, for vicious creatures, resembling apes but with a leathery hide and hideous faces, were ransacking the wagons and terrorizing the hapless gypsies.

"Goblins," snarled Tristan, "Bristol's group: use your bows, the rest of you draw your swords and follow me! Have no mercy on these fiendish things." The men acted immediately upon his orders, as half of them used their arrows to kill the things on the wagons while the rest slew or chased off the foul creatures threatening the clumped gypsies. The unicorn wanted to chase after the fugitives, but Tristan checked her; she hated goblins with a passion, she had run afoul of the awful creatures as a foal and never forgot. The mien of the freed gypsies suddenly went from utter terror to absolute joy, hugging and crying, through mingled tears and laughter they found that everyone was all right. Tristan's men had come upon them in time; if they could, goblins liked nothing better than to terrorize their victims before killing them. The monsters had only just attacked the caravan, and had been surprised by the sudden onslaught of the soldiers.

After retrieving what arrows they could in the failing light, Tristan's men assembled around their leader, said he proudly, "well done, all of you, you kept your heads and did your jobs during an unexpected encounter; this is what we have been training for! I am very proud of each of you, though we did surprise and overwhelm them, it was an excellent first battle." The men smiled appreciatively, exchanging pleased smiles one with another; it had been good to see their leader in combat, though they had hardly had time to notice anything save their own desperate actions, the brief glimpses they caught of him showed that he really did know what he was talking about, and happy were they that he was on their side.

The gypsies were delighted with their rescuers, insisting they spend at least a night with the caravan, to which Tristan readily agreed. There is nothing more boisterous than a caravan of excited gypsies and this was certainly no exception, for they received quite a thank you for their assistance, they sang and danced with their rescuers long into the night. The next morning, Tristan opted to travel with the caravan, which was headed in vaguely the same direction as they, and a little practice riding escort would be just the thing for his men. For nearly a week, they traveled with the gypsies, and as no other menace presented itself, he felt it safe to leave their new friends to their own devices while they headed back upon their original course. The gypsies bid them farewell as fondly as they had received them, for in their eyes there was no sadness in parting, only the joy of having met and the hope of future meetings. Tristan would miss these open and joyous people, reluctantly he turned Aria and followed his retreating men.

They rode on for another few days without incident and camped that night by a small waterfall that fed a creek that babbled gaily off into the darkness over a bed of colorful stones. Here he meant to stay for a day to rest and check their equipment and supplies. If he remembered correctly, there was a village a day's ride from here where they could restock. As they did not have to leave immediately in the morning, Tristan felt they could stay up a little later than usual tonight, for it was time he got to know his men a little better. Until now, he wished to remain simply their leader, he did not want them feeling all warm and friendly until he had established himself as such. Even now, he did not want them to feel that he was their friend and equal, but he did want them to know that he cared for man personally and was interested in them as individuals.

They were equally intrigued by their enigmatic leader, what they had witnessed on their journey provoked many questions, for they had never met one so seemingly young yet possessed of such knowledge, confidence, and skill. His tale to them was simple: he was orphaned as a boy and turned to theft to survive. He had been caught and sentenced to work to death in a mining camp, but a man had taken pity upon him and took him into his service and the service of his Lady. Under the tutelage of that man, his Lady, and others of their acquaintance, he had learned much, traveled many places, and fought many battles. He had joined the Order hoping to pass on the kindness, knowledge, and leadership he had received at the hands of strangers.

His men were mostly farmers' sons, often the second or third son who stood to inherit little upon his father's death, so had chosen to find employment elsewhere rather than spend a lifetime working for an older brother. They had come from all parts of the known world, most had hired themselves out as guards for traveling merchant caravans or as bully boys at raucous inns, they had come to learn a little of fighting and warfare, or at least enough to be of interest to the Order. They had signed up in hopes of gaining riches and renown, something they never would have found on their own, and were far from familiar with the main tenets of the Order, but knew enough to wonder at certain things they had observed on their journey.

"Sir," asked Bristol, "how is it that you do not seem to live up to the better known doctrines of the Order? No offense, it is not a bad thing, I am just wondering."

"Which particular doctrine are you speaking of?" asked Tristan, hiding a knowing smile.

"All that about the peasants being poor because the Master looks upon them with disdain, and the rich being rich because they are better than everyone else and that justifies them taking advantage where they will," answered Bristol.

"One reason I am here is to change that sort of thinking from the bottom up," said Tristan, "that sort of thinking only leads one group to oppress another. The Master created everyone to be worthy of love, respect, and honor; He does not love the rich more than the poor but loves all the same, though He has a special place in His heart for the poor, the suffering, and the oppressed. He shed His own blood to stop the suffering and oppression that would engulf His people if He had stood by and done nothing. It is man who inflicts pain and suffering on his fellow men. The Master hates it, but it is up to each of us to stop or prevent it. I believe the strong should protect the weak, not prey upon them. The Order could be a phenomenal force for good if it is directed upon the right course. It is people like me, and each of you, that can change their way of thinking if we stay true to our ideals." The men looked at him in some surprise, as if he was taking fairy tales seriously. They had spent their entire lives under the assumption that the Master was a myth, absent, unloving, or uninterested in them, but here was a bold warrior, seemingly wise beyond his years, speaking as if the Master was real!

"You really believe all that about the Master?" asked Bristol in a quavering voice. He felt as if the man he secretly respected as much as his father had just said he was taking orders from a talking tree.

"I do," answered Tristan calmly, "it took much time and thought on my part, but eventually I realized the truth of it, though once I entertained just such doubts. Think about it. The Order says that the common people are unworthy of respect or love, yet in all of our adventures what have you discovered about these villagers, farmers, and gypsies? You have discovered that they are people just like you, with dreams and fears, laughter and tears, triumphs and trials. You are the sons of farmers, you are also considered 'peasants' by the elite of the Order, but by joining this outfit you may one day become elite yourselves. Although you are still of common stock, they will not view you as such, though your origins have not changed. The view that all people are worth something is more supportive of the Master's point of view than that of the Order, but you need to make your own decisions about that sort of thing. I only hope my actions give you something else to think about than the mindless doctrine the Order will throw at you and expects you to take unquestioned. Weigh the facts and then decide." A long silence followed before all sought their beds; there were no more questions that night.

The next morning was spent checking equipment and supplies, washing clothes, and repairing what could be mended on the trail. Their ride the next day would bring them to a village that had a blacksmith, at least in previous days, who could attend to their horses' needs as well as a chance to replenish much-needed supplies and news. There was little conversation about their discussion of the night previous, but there was much thinking and rethinking going on in the minds of Tristan's men. He hoped he had not completely lost their confidence or distracted them, for they still had a very long way to go.

That afternoon, they rode to the edge of the village but an aura of fear hung about the place and no one stirred out of doors. Curious, Tristan motioned for his men to hide themselves in a copse of trees on the edge of town, and taking one of the younger men, both exchanged their uniforms for plain clothes and covered their swords with their cloaks. Leaving Bristol in charge, they headed into town leading their horses, leaving the animals tied outside the inn, they went inside. Within, the nervous-looking innkeeper appeared busy wiping down mugs, except that he seemed to be wiping the same few mugs repeatedly. He looked up in surprise as the two strangers entered, glanced furtively at four men at a corner table in quiet discussion, and went back to his nervous wiping.

"Good day to you sir," said Tristan, approaching the bar.

"Goo...good...day," said the anxious innkeeper, "I am sorry, to inconvenience you but we are closed."

"Closed?" asked Tristan in feigned dismay, "But why?"

"We have had a rough time lately but were obligingly rescued from our troubles by those fine gentlemen yonder and their friends," replied the innkeeper anxiously, "and to protect us from further troubles, they have asked that no one do business except through them; they do not want us to be taken advantage of again."

"I see," said Tristan, "so if one is to get a mug of wine or a loaf of bread, I must talk to the gentlemen in the corner?" The innkeeper nodded in horror as Tristan approached the seated men.

"Good day gentlemen," said Tristan, "I am sorry to interrupt your conversation, but my friend and I are hungry and tired and wish to do a bit of business in this fine hamlet of yours but apparently we must bother you to be about it." The men looked at Tristan in wonder, as if they could not believe his audacity or stupidity in confronting them thus.

"Be on your way," snarled one badly scarred man, "this is our town and if you know what's good for you, you will be on your way immediately." He returned to his conversation.

Tristan cued the young soldier accompanying him to go out the back door, he eyed the innkeeper significantly in passing, hoping he would take the hint and follow when he could. Tristan and his companion slipped out the backdoor, waiting patiently until the innkeeper could follow without raising suspicions.

Tristan asked, "what is going on in this town?"

The innkeeper eyed the two strangers nervously, hoping he was not making a terrible mistake, boldly proceeded, "about a fortnight ago a band of brigands rode in and declared our town belonged to them and they would be taking by force, if necessary, anything they claimed belonged to them. For the most part, things have been peaceful, but no one dares go outside unless absolutely necessary and the bandits take whatever they want without paying. There have even been rumors that a few of the local girls have had 'encounters' with these brutes. We are not soldiers and there is no local authority we can turn to for help. They will kill us as soon as look at us, but for now we seem to be supplying them with what they want, but I fear what will happen when our supplies of food, ale, and wine are exhausted."

"Where are the rest of these louts?" asked Tristan.

"They are holed up around and within the village," said the innkeeper, "half sleep in my inn, the rest sleep in twos and threes in various homes around town."

"Is there ever a time they all gather together?" asked Tristan.

"They get together each evening at the inn for supper and drinking," said the innkeeper.

"Do they have any sort of watch or patrol?" asked Tristan.

"Two or three walk around the village and the surrounding farms a couple times a day, usually at dawn, noon, and dusk. Mostly they just hassle people who are trying to go about their business. I do not think they would see anything coming unless it sat in their laps. They are quite happy and content here and feel quite unthreatened. They should, we hardly ever see outsiders, and if we do they are never willing to help," finished the innkeeper.

"We may be able to help you, but you need to get the bandits as drunk as possible tonight. Around midnight we will see what we can do with two dozen drunk brigands," said Tristan in anticipation. The innkeeper nodded his reluctant but hopeful agreement, for as matters stood, he had nothing to lose!

As he re-entered the inn, he yelled out the door, "you were told to leave and you would leave now if you knew what is good for you! Do not come looking for handouts at my inn again." The four men looked at the innkeeper and smirked at his pathetic show of hostility. It was the bravest thing they had ever seen him do. They returned to their conversation.

Tristan and Bristol scouted around the village and surrounding farms but found no sign of a watch or sentry. As evening approached, two bandits made a minimal round of the area and then quickly ducked into the inn for supper and ale. After a careful count, all fifteen bandits were confirmed to be inside the inn. The villains were allowed several hours of feasting, drinking, and bawdy singing, but as the bandits began to think fondly of their beds, Tristan and his men appeared at the doors, windows, and the upstairs balcony. The innkeeper and serving maids had retreated at the appointed time, leaving no one but Tristan's men and the bandits in the inn's common room. The bandits could see seven men, each armed with bow and sword, every bow had an arrow nocked and ready to fly.

"You are surrounded," said Tristan, "lay down your weapons and put your hands on your heads. Failure to comply will result in the use of lethal force. You are hereby accused of robbery, piracy, hostage taking, and threatening murder. Surrender and each of you will be judged fairly, according to your crimes, resist and your survival is not guaranteed."

Half the bandits complied immediately, the rest scrambled for cover or tried to scrounge a weapon. Four fell as they ran, arrows in their backs; seven stood with hands on their heads, looking anxiously for rescue from the surrounding madness; four hid themselves in various corners, under tables, or behind the bar.

"You are surrounded," continued Tristan, "you must surrender now or we will fight." He counted to thirty, but the hidden men did not emerge. He nodded towards the three men in the balcony, they would cover the others as they tried to root out the hidden thieves. Two of his men covered the front door and windows; Bristol watched the back door while Tristan cautiously began to move among the overturned tables and chairs. A short, ugly man jumped out from behind an overturned table with a dagger and tried to plunge it into Tristan's heart, but his sword stopped the bandit in mid-flight. An arrow from above took a second bandit, who tried to jump Tristan from behind while facing the ugly man with the dagger. A third bandit, armed with a table leg, tried to club down Bristol in his flight towards the backdoor, but Bristol's sword stopped him short. The fourth and final bandit crept out from behind the bar with his hands on his head begging for mercy, he was allowed to join the seven others who had surrendered.

A trial was set for the next morning as the villagers confirmed that all had been captured or killed. The unfortunate louts were tied up and locked in the wine cellar for the night with guards posted at the only door. The next morning the surviving bandits, the villagers, and Tristan's men gathered on the village green for the trial, with Tristan, the mayor, and the blacksmith forming the tribunal. Each thief was brought forward individually, none was allowed to listen to the trial of any other thief, though they watched mournfully from a distance. The worst of the thieves had died the previous night while the surviving eight were the younger and less hardened men in the nefarious band. Tristan hoped fervently that there was still a future for these misguided young men, had he not been such once himself?

Each was accused in turn of theft, piracy, and taking the village hostage, but in light of their surrender and cooperation, the tribunal did not feel death was warranted. But what to do with eight bandits? If left in the village to work off their crimes they might revolt against the villagers; the nearest city with a proper prison or work camp was too far away, and such a fate would only kill them or harden them into real criminals. In his conversations with them during the trial, Tristan discovered them to be as he once was: misguided and desperate. He longed to send them back to Astoria, where they could be given a second chance if they were willing to take it, and where they could be safely watched and kept away from innocent bystanders if they chose otherwise. As they mulled over the grim problem, a huge shadow passed over the village, as if a great bird circled above them. A woman screamed and fainted dead away, several people fled into their homes and barred the doors behind them, while confusion ensued on the green.

A small green dragon landed in the middle of the village, looking curiously at the people running about like ants in a scattered hill. "Tristan?" hissed the young dragon.

"That is my name," said Tristan, stepping out of the churning mass of confused and terror-stricken humanity.

"Nargath flew by the other day and mentioned he had talked with you. It has been long since any man has interacted so freely with my kind; most simply wish to kill us as monsters or flee before us as terrors," here he glanced wryly at the terrified villagers, before continuing, "I was curious, so I sought you out. I am called Fleet"

"Nice to meet you, but you seem to have startled quite a few people," smiled Tristan, "would you mind flying off momentarily while I try to restore order?"

"Of course," replied Fleet, taking wing as Tristan quickly explained things to the panicked villagers. Fleet returned soon after and again landed on the green, where he was introduced to the Mayor and the Blacksmith.

"We have a strange request to make of you sir," stuttered the astonished mayor, hardly believing what he was doing or about to say. The dragon cocked his head in interest as the man continued, "would you mind ferrying these men to Astoria?"

At the dragon's equally astonished look, Tristan added, "I know your kind does not usually carry men on their backs, but these men have caused much trouble here and we have vital business elsewhere that will not allow us to escort them thence ourselves. We would be forced to put them to death, though warranted by their crimes, we feel they deserve another chance, and the Lady will see that they get it. It would be a great favor to us and spare their lives."

"For any other I might hesitate, but I would like to meet this Lady of yours and Nargath speaks highly of you. I will do as you ask," said Fleet. The dragon could carry four terrified men at a time and it took half a day to fly to Astoria and back, thus it was well past dark by the time he returned from his second journey.

"Thank you, my friend," said Tristan gratefully, "we are truly in your debt."

"It was an honor for me to meet you and the Lady," replied the creature, "I look forward to speaking with her at length tomorrow; she sends her greetings and wishes you well on your quest, though for some reason she found your idea to send her such guests highly amusing." That night they had a celebratory feast with enough food to sate even the dragon's monstrous appetite. In the morning, Tristan spent some little time talking with Fleet while his men restocked their supplies. In the early afternoon, they parted, the dragon for his meeting with the Lady and Tristan's company set off to finish their journey while the villagers began to reassemble their lives. It had been a long, strange journey but their greatest test lay at its end: the Challenge.

### Chapter 6

The Challenge was held every training cycle, when new recruits from the current recruiting cycle had finished their training along the borders of civilization. During the Challenge, each unit would be paired with another unit, against whom they would compete in archery, equitation, fencing, hand-to-hand combat, and fighting from horseback. The winner of each set would then be paired with another victorious unit and thus repeated until only one unit emerged triumphant. None knew what the victors received as a prize, but The Challenge was meant to test their skills as well as to sharpen them.

Tristan's company arrived several days ahead of the Challenge date to give the men time to rest and prepare for the event. Each unit was granted the use of a gaily-colored pavilion equipped with cots and a few other amenities, as the whole event could take several days to a few weeks, depending on how many units were competing. Unit leader would also compete, but not with his men, rather there was a separate Challenge in which the unit leaders competed against one another, each unit leader's logbook, detailing their unit's adventures, training, and encounters along the way, was also used in judging the outcome of the Challenge. Tristan felt his men well-prepared for the Challenge, though he idly wondered what the Order would think of his logbook!

The morning of the Challenge dawned clear and cold, as the men gathered early for warm-up exercises and roll call. Everyone looked sharp in their new uniforms, a vast improvement, as the uniforms they had worn on campaign could hardly be recognized as such. The pairings were announced and each company moved to the designated area to begin their first Challenge. The archery and equitation were individual competitions with a cumulative score given to the team while the other three events were competitions between each pair, composed of members from each opposing unit matched up by age, experience, and build. After a unit finished its trials for the day, they could rest, practice, or observe as they wished. The winners were declared after everyone had finished for the day, the losers were excused from the competition while the winners were given a new opponent for the following day.

At night there were talks given by high-ranking officials within the Order on a myriad of topics, most interesting only to the presenter. Afterwards, the losing teams indulged in a variety of fermented beverages but those who still had to compete refrained, at least officially. After the first few days winnowed out the majority of the units, the unit leaders' Challenge began. Theirs was similar to the unit Challenge, save that it was an individual competition. Tristan's unit competed well the first day, winning their first Challenge with no doubt as to their success, repeating the feat until the final day and concluding round of the competition.

A wind blew cold from the north, dreary grey clouds hung low on the horizon, and a constant drizzle fell upon the two units facing one another, each bowed to the other before beginning the final Challenge. The opposing unit was led by a man called Brisbane, a seasoned commander who had led many training expeditions into the Wilds, and was the favorite to win both the unit and the leaders' competitions, he had done so five years running. He glared at Tristan and his men with his single eye; Tristan recognized him immediately as the pompous windbag who had tried to lop off Pallin's head when he first arrived in Astoria. Brisbane thought the young leader looked familiar somehow, but could not place him, but it was of no matter, what did lesser men matter to him? Tristan's unit was assumed to be the weakest of those assembled, due to his lack of experience within the Order and his relative youth as a commander. But so far, they had exceeded everyone's expectations except Tristan's; he knew they were well-trained and ready to prove it, and win or lose, he was quite pleased with their progress.

Brisbane's men were good, but his training methods were based on years of study and academic thought, whereas Tristan's were based on years in the field, he knew what worked and what did not, whereas Brisbane thought if it was taught in a military academy or espoused by some senior officer, it was sacred. Tristan took what was useful, throwing out or modifying what wasn't. While Brisbane's men were well-trained in basic military theory and thought, and trained in field tactics later, Tristan's were well-versed in the more practical side of things and acquired a military mindset almost by default, acquiring the latter as they practiced the former from the start.

As the competition progressed, Tristan's men drew ahead slightly in each round until the final trial, which would be a six-on-six fight in the saddle. The last man in the saddle would win the round and likely the Challenge. The two lines of horsemen faced each other, the trumpet rang, and they charged. One of Tristan's men was unhorsed immediately, as were two of Brisbane's; the remaining riders turned to face their remaining opponents and each unit lost another man. There was now no order or thought, save what was in one's immediate vicinity even as one of Tristan's men and one of Brisbane's unseated each other. A horse stumbled on the uneven ground, throwing one of Tristan's men from his saddle as Bristol faced off against the second-in-command of Brisbane's unit. With a roar, the man dug his heels into his horse's flanks and charged Bristol. Bristol pulled his horse up short, drawing alongside the charging man, and pushing him from the saddle, won the day. The unhorsed man grabbed his wooden sword and charged the stunned Bristol afoot. Bristol cantered his horse out of range of the enraged man and the judges quickly chased him off the field, as he was led away, he glared furiously at Bristol and Tristan, apparently military tactics were not the only thing Brisbane passed along to his men.

The final round of the Unit Leaders' Challenge also took place that day, pitting Tristan against Brisbane. The man glared at Tristan with his one good eye, not seeming to have improved at all in manners since their first meeting. Brisbane could not remember meeting Tristan, but he knew he hated him regardless. His rage was stoked even hotter by the fact that his unit had just lost to this no-name upstart from nowhere; he would show the world who the ultimate Knight of the Order was! They were evenly matched in archery and equitation, though Tristan pulled ahead in the equitation class because his mount was a sentient creature and no dull-witted horse. Tristan won the sword competition, but only barely, as Brisbane eked out a win in hand-to-hand combat. The final match would be a battle ahorseback.

Aria reared and screamed in anticipation; she loved a good fight. Brisbane's stallion screamed back in challenge at the strange mare that seemed to think herself a stud. The trumpet blew and they charged. After many near misses, the war-trained stallion tried to bite and kick at the mare and her rider, though this was strictly forbidden in the rules, but his master did not check him. The unicorn was quick and agile, avoiding the worst of his violence as her rider did the same. Brisbane lashed out in fury as one trying to fell a tree. Finally, the judges' horses pushed through the frenzy and drove the pair apart, Brisbane having disqualified himself for unnecessary violence and inattention to his horse's behavior. He glared murder at Tristan. They were not finished.

It was a feat unrivaled in the history of the Order: never had an underdog captain and his unit come out the victors in the Challenge! At first, everyone fell silent in amazement but then a raucous cheer rose from the assembled spectators, and one by one, the officials and judges came forward and congratulated the stunned men. They had expected to do well, but nothing like this! Eventually the noise and confusion died down allowing everyone to regain some semblance of order. Unit leaders and their men were reassigned based upon their performance during the Challenge and also upon the records kept by the unit leader; men were assigned for further training, to serve in various open posts and positions wherever the Order held sway, or were assigned to new units that were being assembled for training or assignment. That night, a celebratory feast was held and then the highest-ranking member of the Order present gave an attempt at a rousing dismissal speech. Each man returned to his bed early, for tomorrow they were to disperse before sunrise. The men said goodbye to their unit leaders and their comrades; it would be a long time before many of the men saw each other again, scattered as they would be across the continent. The orders for Tristan's unit were simply to report to Order headquarters in Panmycea, five days hence.

A bugle roused everyone from their beds the next morning, camp was quickly broken, and groups assembled heading in every direction imaginable. By noon, no one remained but Tristan and his men. It was a three-day ride to Panmycea, and he intended to let his men and horses rest a day before heading out. The men were delighted to have a little more time together before they must part ways, but they knew it was imminent. The next day they broke camp and rode at a leisurely pace each man enjoying the presence of his comrades for what they knew might well be the last time for many years to come; they had grown close as only men who have shared much time and danger together can. It would be a sad parting but the memories would be cherished and long-remembered, only to be joyously brought out and relived upon their next meeting.

The fourth day after the Challenge, they arrived in Panmycea, a city of no small size and subject to no one but the Order. A small company of men dressed in the uniform of the Order aroused no comment as they rode through the crowded streets. After so many months in the wilderness, such bustling streets were almost foreign to Tristan's men, who gawked about as if they had never seen a city street before, though perhaps some of the less worldly among them had not.

They rode towards the towering Citadel in the center of the city, an impressive structure no matter how much of the world one has seen, even the vastly traveled Tristan found it a grand sight. The gate lay open but was barred by stern looking Knights of the Order. Before they were allowed through, Tristan had to present his orders, which were carefully scrutinized by the guards. A harsh order brought a scurrying clerk out of the guardhouse, a brief exchange brought the needed information, and Tristan was told to take his men and report to the Master of the Stables, who would see to their horses, then they were to report to a Captain Karly. They were waved through and did as they were bidden. Aria was very unhappy to be left to such a handler, though she did her best to act as she thought a meek and normal horse would in such a circumstance; the effect was much like a lion pretending to be a kitten, but it was the best she thought she could do, Tristan walked away muttering about the pride of certain unicorns but she pretended not to hear. A servant met them near the stables and led them deep into the castle, where they soon found themselves in Captain Karly's chambers. They bowed formally in greeting.

"Welcome and well done," smiled Karly exuberantly, "I have heard much of your unexpected victory, and my apologies to you, Tristan, on the behavior of Brisbane during that final round. I am not sure what came over him but he will be disciplined for his lack of etiquette." Tristan inclined his head in thanks. "Now," continued Karly eagerly, "you are probably wondering why you are here. As tradition has it, the winners of each Challenge are invited to attend the Banquet of the High Council that routinely follows each Challenge. This is quite an honor for men of your standing within the Order, only one hundred seats are available, and save for yourselves, only the highest-ranking officers are allowed to attend. The banquet is tomorrow evening, you will be given rooms in the Citadel until you are to leave for your next assignments. There will be much discussion given on the future plans of the Order at this meeting and you are hereby sworn to secrecy and silence, nothing you hear shall be discussed with anyone else and you are not to speak during the meeting or the meal. Your presence is an honor but it is merely ceremonial. You will be severely punished if you do not comply with these requirements. Do you understand?" Each man nodded, Tristan wondering how his vow of silence would affect the Lady's desire to know what exactly the Order was up to. "Good," he continued, "now go to your rooms and freshen up. I am sure you are weary after your journey." He bowed them out of the room and a servant led them to their quarters.

The men were billeted in a large room with six beds; Tristan had a small, comfortable room just down the hall. Servants brought them their evening meal, a change of clothes, and warm water with which to cleanse themselves from the dust and sweat of travel. They talked and joked long into the night, simply enjoying one another's company. Tristan bid them goodnight and retired to his room, he had much to think about. The next morning, they were woken early by a servant for breakfast; the balance of the day they were free to wander about the city or idle in the famed Gardens of the Unicorn, returning to the Citadel in time to cleanup and change for the Banquet. The servant ushered them into a little alcove in the far back of a large dining hall. They seated themselves around the small table, waiting silently for the Banquet to begin. A servant brought them food and refilled their beverages, but not a word was said during the whole course of the meal. After dinner, the meeting began, Tristan listened intently for anything that might interest the Brethren or the Lady, not that he could actually break his vow of secrecy and divulge the information however; he grinned ruefully and wondered what the Lady would think of that!

Most of the meeting was simple formality with the acknowledgement of various trivial matters whose course of action had already been long decided. A few crusty old officers stood up and gave long-winded speeches of no consequence to anyone but themselves. Finally, the Master of the High Council stood up to make his remarks, the already hushed audience grew absolutely silent, allowing everyone in the room to hear the snores of one ancient officer, at least until he was ungently roused from his slumber.

The Master of the Council began, "welcome and good evening to all of you. As you know, we have increased our recruiting efforts and are hoping to swell the ranks of the Order well beyond its current size over the next few years. The Council and our most senior officers agree that we will move forward with our plan to extend the functions of the Order from a simple group of independent peacekeepers to an organization that has much greater influence within each nation, independent village and city-state. We hope to gradually increase our influence to be at least equal with the local authorities, if not superior to them. We are the cream of humanity's crop and our place is at the top of every nation, state, and village! No one is better suited to usher in this era of peace and harmony than the Order of the Unicorn..."

The speech was lost in uproarious applause. Once the assembly quieted, he continued to outline his plan for accomplishing his goal of world domination. Currently advisors were being assigned to leaders in all parts of the world, such as Brisbane's foiled attempt to gain a foothold in Astoria, eventually garrisons of men would be stationed in each state, country, and major city to 'encourage the peace' and 'uphold justice' and 'to assist the local authorities.'

They hoped to gradually increase the local number of troops under their control to such a point that the leader in question was forced to acknowledge their superiority and relinquish all law enforcement and military efforts to the Order, if not bowing completely to the will of the Order in all matters of state. First would come intimidation, and once the weaker principalities were under Order control, they could then move forward with military conquest of any remaining resistance. The plan would take decades to come to fruition, but it was well thought out and might work if the Order could only raise the necessary army. After the closing remarks, the servants ushered Tristan's unit out of the dining hall, as they were not allowed to mingle with the more important guests. His men were escorted back to their quarters to prepare for their departure to their new posts on the morrow; Tristan was taken to Captain Karly for a briefing on his next assignment, the servant escorted him to the door and bowed himself out.

"Yes, Tristan come in," said the Captain brightly, adding sarcastically, "it seems I have the very great honor of briefing you on your next assignment." He continued more genially, "I have been reviewing your logbook and performance records, fascinating reading actually. Your men seem to have done remarkably well, even if your tactics were not exactly um...traditional."

"Thank you, sir, I think?" said Tristan.

The Captain smiled at him a bit ironically, "yes, I think that counts as a compliment. Because of your success in the field and your particular background, we have decided your next position will be as an Advisor to a rather peculiar leader." Tristan started to say he had never done anything like that before, but the Captain boldly continued, "I know you do not have any sort of experience as an ambassador or royal advisor, but we will pair you up with an active Advisor for a few months before shipping you off to your assigned post. What really interests us is your interactions with one of these troublesome Brethren. You seem to have handled him rather nicely and seem to know more about these enigmatic Brethren than most. We sent Brisbane to be the acting Advisor to this Lady of theirs some months ago, but that failed wretchedly. We have an Advisor in almost every major town, city-state, and country save Astoria. You seem a bright young man, are quick on your feet, and a bit more, how should I say, charming?, than Brisbane. Perhaps you will succeed where he failed, if only by being more tactful around this Lady of theirs. You also grew up in the vicinity, perhaps you have even traveled there a time or two?"

He looked expectantly at Tristan, who replied, "yes, I have had the opportunity to pass through that strange city on several occasions. Are you sure this is something you think I can handle?"

"We will know that in a couple of months, but right now you are the best we have," chuckled Karly, "now go back to your room and get some sleep; you will be leaving early to join Captain Lyre in Vespera. Go say farewell to your men and rest well, for we are asking much of you and failure cannot be an option." Tristan bowed formally and left the Captain's chambers, where a servant met him and took him back to his quarters.

They spent long that night in farewells, but obeying the Captain's order, Tristan went to bed as soon as he felt he could. Bristol was to go on the next recruitment drive and take a group of new recruits on their initiating tour of the borderlands. Two of his men were assigned to the Citadel for a couple of months as guards, two were taking posts in various units the Order had scattered abroad, and the final man was to act as secretary to one of the Generals making a tour of the Southern Kingdoms. They would be scattered throughout the known world, Tristan hoped he had made a positive impact in their lives, and that they would eventually find their way to knowing the Master and touching other lives in turn. He wished them all the best and retired to his chambers.

The next morning he was wakened early by a servant, given a quick breakfast and a copy of his orders, dressed swiftly, and met one of the stable boys in the courtyard. Apparently, Aria would not let anyone saddle her. Tristan sighed heavily and went to prepare his recalcitrant mount for their journey, but even with the unicorn's persnicketiness, they were soon on their way into the great unknown. It was a journey of several days to Lorna in Vespera, but the journey was still too short for Tristan's comfort, though Aria thoroughly enjoyed being out of her musty stall, and was far too frisky by Tristan's standards, lost in his grim musings as he was. She had been stalled between a flatulent gelding and a lovelorn stallion, which was only encouraged by her signs of irritation rather than dismayed thereby, overall, she had had a miserable time of it and was delighted to be off again, adventure bent. She tried to bear it as patiently as she could, though at times she was not very patient at all, certainly a strange trait in a unicorn!

### Chapter 7

Vespera was a small but beautiful country of rolling fields, open meadows, and scattered woodlands with many small lakes and winding rivers. Lorna, located in the center of the prosperous country, was a large city with a moderate wall running around its borders and a thriving and contented community within. Tristan rode reluctantly through the open gates, noting the look of disdain that crossed the faces of the guards as they recognized his uniform, but nothing more onerous than a few looks of disgust hindered him as he rode towards the palace in the middle of the city. People bustled about in the streets, busy about their own business, few were those who noticed his passing, but he survived those few glares and rode on, musing that the Order truly did have a bad reputation everywhere. He came to the palace gates and applied to the guards for Captain Lyre; a soldier dashed off, soon returning with confirmation that he was expected. He surrendered the irritated mare to the groom and followed the waiting soldier, who was to take him to Lyre. Lyre met him just inside the main entrance to the palace; he bowed minimally while Tristan made a full bow in return. Lyre dismissed the soldier back to his post and motioned for Tristan to follow, they walked silently into the depths of the palace. Once they entered Lyre's private chambers, they could talk.

"I am not looking for an assistant," said Lyre immediately after closing the door to his rooms, "but then you are not here to assist but rather to observe and learn how a true Advisor should act." This made him smile haughtily, thinking it quite an honor to be held in such high regard that the Order wished others to learn to emulate him, with that pleasing thought, he quickly warmed to the idea, if not to Tristan himself. Continued he, "after all, in a few months you will be off to that rebellious little city on the edge of nowhere. What did you do to get banished there? Well, never mind that, the High Council knows what it is about. While you are here your only job is to observe me and learn; you are learning from the best, if I say so myself!

There is an advisor here from the Brethren, perhaps if you two talked a bit you might learn more about their insignificant city-state. We attend the Queen whenever she is holding court or otherwise involved in public affairs, and we have one half-hour every week during which she will listen to us privately. She may also call upon us for advice at any time on matters of state, but if she requires information or advice, I will provide it. You do not speak unless asked a direct question by her Majesty or are directed to answer by me. She has the deepest respect for me and my wisdom; watch and learn well and one day you might gain such respect." He finished almost reverently, "now go tidy up, for the Queen is holding court this very evening and we must attend."

Tristan bowed himself out and found a servant waiting outside the door, who took him to a very small room just down the hall. Tristan wondered if they had remodeled a closet for his personal use, but he found his saddlebags and gear laid out on the bed, and as ordered, he quickly cleaned-up and changed his travel worn clothes. Shortly, Lyre came by to collect him, just walking in and not bothering with trivialities like knocking. This was going to be a lovely couple of months, thought Tristan grimly to himself. Together they walked to the grand chamber wherein the Queen held court, with Lyre insisting that Tristan walk a step or two behind, regaling Tristan on the whole interminable journey with accounts of his various triumphs throughout his long and glorious career. If they had not been walking, Tristan might have fallen asleep on his feet.

They entered the audience chamber and joined the small clump of advisors and representatives from other countries, various organizations, and any other foreigners who had an interest in the affairs of Vespera. In another clump stood various Generals and military experts, a third held well-to-do merchants and tradesmen, and the final group appeared to be the local nobles and important officials within the palace, city, or country. Anyone who had any interest at all in Vespera had a representative here as often as may be. A trumpet sounded as the Queen entered; she was a beautiful young woman, full of grace and wisdom. She took her seat and then the gathered representatives took theirs, running in a row along each wall, on either side of her throne.

"Captain Lyre," said the Queen formally, "I see you have brought a new face to this delightful gathering. Pray, who is he?"

"My Lady," Lyre bowed, "this is Lieutenant Tristan. He has come to learn what it means to be a royal Advisor. Fear not, he will not interfere or disrupt your Majesty in any way."

"Thank you, Lyre. I welcome you to Vespera, Lieutenant Tristan," said the Queen graciously, "I hope your stay will be beneficial." Tristan bowed in thanks and resumed his seat. The other people there present looked at him curiously, a few with obvious contempt. The evening passed slowly as various individuals, groups, or representatives came forward to have their cases judged by the Queen, from a dispute over who owned a runaway pig to nobles squabbling over property lines, the Queen judged each situation fairly, but with compassion. Tristan could see why she was so popular and successful a queen, though she was also relatively young. Occasionally during the course of the night, he thought he saw her glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, but perhaps it was just the flickering light of the candles. The court was dismissed, all stood as her Majesty walked gracefully out, and bowed as she passed. Some of the observers retreated immediately to their own chambers, but Lyre and Tristan lingered behind, which Tristan though odd, as with the Queen gone, Lyre had no one to impress.

"Conrad!" cried Lyre to a man standing nearby, satisfying Tristan's curiosity as to their prolonged presence after the Queen's flight. The man turned as they approached, and Lyre began, "I would like you to meet one of my associates; he is here to learn the ropes of being a royal Advisor. He has a great interest in the Brethren and I was hoping you could sate his curiosity."

Conrad smiled blandly at Lyre and then looked at Tristan, both bowed to each other and fought down delighted smiles, allowing only bland neutrality to grace each countenance. "I would be honored to speak with you at your leisure," said Conrad ironically.

"Thank you, I very much wish to become acquainted with you and your people," said Tristan dryly.

Lyre gave them both a strange look, but said nothing. "We shall retire now," ordered Lyre, "but I shall send Tristan to you tomorrow." Lyre could not wait to be rid of the irksome man, even his excellent example probably couldn't make a proper advisor out of the poor wretch!

Early the next morning, a servant woke Tristan, informing him that her Majesty had requested his presence on a midmorning ride, though slightly confused by the honor, he looked forward to meeting her Majesty. He knocked on Lyre's door and told the groggy Captain the news. Lyre was not surprised, the Queen often invited new members of her court out for some sort of activity in hopes of getting to know them, and their strengths and weaknesses, better. Tristan was advised to be completely submissive to her Majesty, to say nothing regarding the Order, and to flatter her Majesty at any opportune time. The idea was to keep her in the dark about their plans while winning her favor and trust; Tristan doubted very much that Lyre's methods would accomplish either but said nothing. Lyre also suggested that after his ride he should visit with Conrad until the Queen held court again that evening. Tristan brightened, feeling it would be a rather enjoyable day after all, he nodded his assent and went to clean up before breakfast.

Shortly before midmorning, a servant came to fetch Tristan, apparently his horse was misbehaving, again, and would not allow the grooms near her; Tristan could only sigh and follow the anxious servant to the stables. Upon entering the stable, the mare whickered eagerly and quietly submitted to him as he saddled her, though she did lay her ears back when he quietly suggested that perhaps she should let someone else do this next time or people might start asking questions. He led her out into the courtyard, where he met a mounted guard, who motioned for Tristan to follow. He swung into the saddle, followed the guard out a side door in the palace wall and into a vacant alley, and eventually came to a small gate in the side of the city wall that opened into the countryside. The Queen was waiting for them with another guard and one of her ladies.

"Welcome, Lieutenant Tristan," said she airily.

"Good day, my Lady," bowed Tristan.

"I like to know who attends my court," said the Queen, "that is why I have arranged this meeting. I wish to know you better and it will be beneficial for you to understand me as well."

She walked her grey gelding alongside the mare as they set off. The lady-in-waiting lagged slightly behind the Queen as the guards brought up the rear. As they rode, the Queen asked him all the vague and general questions espoused during such an interview, and Tristan answered each efficiently and as intelligently as one can answer so mundane a query. He in turn asked similar questions of her Majesty, which she answered with a wit and wisdom that left no doubt in his mind that hers was a keen mind and a sharp tongue.

After half an hour of such tedium, she kicked her gelding in the flanks and said, "perhaps you would care for a race?" She took off at a gallop, Tristan had no choice but to follow. The guards and the lady seemed used to this sort of thing, easily keeping apace despite the Queen's antics.

They galloped through open meadows, jumped fallen trees along a wooded path, and splashed through numerous small streams, making for an exhilarating and pleasant ride. Once the Queen's exuberance had abated, they returned their mounts to a walk and resumed their conversation. "You ride well, Lieutenant Tristan," said the Queen.

"Thank you, your Majesty, but please, call me Tristan," said he.

"As you wish," smiled the Queen, "I am glad to find you very much different from Lyre and many of his cronies." She continued, "he is an obsequious windbag, always boring me with some tedious compliment or story of his own greatness."

"I am glad you do not find me tedious, your Majesty," smiled Tristan.

"I am not sure how I find you," retorted she, "you seem to have a good head on your shoulders, or at least it would seem so if you had not taken up with those scoundrels from the Order."

"The course my life has taken of late has been very strange indeed, this was the last place I thought to find myself, but here I am and I must make the best of it," replied Tristan.

"Why not leave the Order and join a more worthy cause?" asked the Queen.

"It was a worthy cause that drove me to join," said Tristan dryly, "and it will be a worthy cause I continue to pursue long after I have resigned my commission with the Order." The Queen looked at him thoughtfully but made no reply.

"We will speak again later," said she, as she rode off with her retinue towards the city and her private gate. Tristan was left to enter through the main gate and find his own way back to the palace.

Upon his return, Lyre was nearly bouncing from foot to foot, anxious to learn how his conversation with the Queen had gone. Tristan recounted their encounter in brief; Lyre seemed content that at least he had not somehow irrevocably ruined any future relationship betwixt the Order and the Queen. Tristan was then sent off to find Conrad and was told to 'annoy' him until court was held that evening. Tristan eagerly sought out his old friend, hoping he would not have to spend too much time with Lyre in future, happily it seemed Lyre was more than happy to return the favor. Perhaps this assignment would not be as irksome as he had feared? A servant directed him to Conrad, whom he found him in the stable talking quietly to a dun stallion. Aria whickered excitedly from her stall, and without a word, both men saddled their mounts and headed out for a private ride. They said little as they wound through the crowded streets, but once they were alone upon a winding, forested path they began to talk in earnest.

"You were the last person I thought to meet here, especially in that uniform!" said Conrad with a laugh.

"It was the Lady's idea, not mine," grinned Tristan, "she thought someone needed to keep an eye on these imposters, and for some reason thought I was the man for the job."

"Remind me to stay on her good side or she might give me your job," laughed Conrad.

"It gets worse," said Tristan, "after Lyre decides I am ready, I get to return to Astoria as the Order's Advisor to the Lady."

Conrad wanted to laugh at such an absurd impossibility but the seriousness of Tristan's countenance gave him pause, "truly?!"

Tristan nodded but laughed wryly, "can this get any more confusing?" Both men laughed until they nearly fell out of their saddles.

Once they had regained some control over themselves, Conrad said, "I do not envy you your situation, but I think the more you irritate Lyre the less time you will need to spend here. The more you get in his way, the sooner he will write to your superiors and tell them that you are ready to go out on your own."

"I do not think I will have any trouble irritating Lyre," grinned Tristan, "he is already finding ways to get rid of me. Why do you think he is foisting me off on you?" They both smiled, Tristan was the last thing a man of Lyre's limited intelligence and huge ego needed, the only subordinate he would tolerate with equanimity would be one as obsequious and fawning as himself. Tristan was well-spoken, intelligent, and fawned over no one; he gave respect where respect was due, but did not fall all over himself trying to flatter his superiors. Lyre's current assignment was probably due as much to no one else wanting to work with him as to anything else: it was an unofficial sort of banishment. They rode and talked for many hours, but only reluctantly headed back to the castle to attend court that evening.

Lyre smiled blandly at Tristan as he approached, saying condescendingly, "have an enjoyable day? I had a very rewarding afternoon, as I was able to spend much uninterrupted time in deep thought." Tristan smiled blandly.

For the next few weeks, his schedule was very much the same; he attended Lyre at court and other required events, but was otherwise left to his own devices. Lyre found that he could not overawe Tristan with his supposedly superior knowledge, and he felt intimidated by Tristan's confidence and startling lack of concern about his opinions. Thus, Lyre banished him from his presence as much as he could without actually violating his orders. Tristan spent much time in Conrad's company and when he was not available, he went for long rides in the surrounding countryside. Besides for court each evening, Tristan was required to attend the half-hour weekly session in which the Queen would listen patiently as Lyre expounded on the glories of the Order, and more often himself. Tristan sat behind him and exchanged pained glances with Her Majesty over his shoulder, but neither spoke much, as Lyre talked so much that he rarely left room for any reply. The only other times Tristan had to make an appearance were at official court functions such as balls and jousts, and when the Queen specifically requested his presence, such as on their ride that first day.

Once or twice a week she seemed to seek him out, especially after a particularly trying session with Lyre. She seemed to appreciate having someone to talk to who was not particularly interested in influencing her opinions or gaining her favor. He gave her the respect and diffidence due a ruler of her station, but also treated her with the deference with which he treated every woman of his acquaintance. She enjoyed having someone see her as not only a Queen but also as a person. Tristan was the first person in a very long time who looked at her and saw something besides her crown. Lyre was quite annoyed that he was never called in for a private chat, especially after all his years of dedicated service. Unsurprisingly, it was not long before he sent a letter off to the Order stating his excitement in discovering Tristan's innate talent as a royal advisor and his hopes that Tristan would soon find a post of his own. An envoy was soon dispatched from the Order to brief Tristan on his next assignment while Lyre began counting the days until he was well rid of the fellow.

One night during one of the several balls the palace hosted each year, the Queen asked Tristan to dance. Usually she watched most of the dances, and if she did dance, it was with one of the local or visiting lords, to dance with an ambassador, especially of a rogue military unit, was almost scandalous. The court was intrigued, for they loved scandal. He was light on his feet and knew this particular dance well; the Queen was naturally graceful and this dance was her favorite, making the pair a pleasure to watch. She then proceeded to dance with a representative from each faction and group present in her court, if only to minimize some of the rumor and scandal. Lyre scowled the whole time, he was not well known as a dancer and the Queen never even looked in his direction. The only solace to him was that Tristan was leaving on the morrow. After Conrad's turn to dance with the Queen, she whispered something to him as they bowed to each other.

Some minutes later he sought out Tristan and led him aside, "the Queen wishes a private audience with you. She suggests you retire in half an hour and perhaps take a walk in the palace gardens. What is this about? Have you inadvertently seduced the Queen?"

Tristan gave him a horrified look at the very idea, "I hope it is nothing of the sort! Perhaps it is only to wish me farewell, as I am leaving tomorrow? I admire her greatly, but only as an accomplished and capable leader, certainly not as a man ought to love a woman, to say nothing of my Oath! What rumors have you heard?"

Conrad smiled reassuringly, "I have only noticed she seems to appreciate having such a listener. Do not worry; I have not heard anything suspicious or untoward. I only wanted to make sure you were going to be all right. Have a good trip and give my greetings to the Lady." They bowed to each other and parted company, though each wished for a far less formal and much more warm and hearty farewell, such could not be in their current roles and surroundings. Tristan waited half an hour and then left the ballroom, he paced gardens for some time, lost in troubled thought.

It was nearly midnight when a cloaked figure appeared silently beside him as he pensively strode the paths about the garden. With an unspoken accord, they retreated to a secluded corner before the Queen said quietly, "I hear you are leaving tomorrow?" Tristan nodded. "I wish you a pleasant journey and success in your future endeavors," said she, "but perhaps you do not have to leave after all? I have enjoyed our conversations and have come to greatly respect you. I have been courted by many lesser men, and until I am safely married, many more will pursue me. I do not wish to seem forward, but I see something in you that I have found in no one else: you have it in you to make a great leader and husband."

Tristan stared at her in astonishment for several long moments before he could find his voice, "Majesty, I am honored by your words and sentiments, but I never meant to endear myself to you. I have only ever treated you with the courtesy due a ruler or any woman, not to gain your respect or admiration but because it is your due. I greatly respect you as a person and a ruler, but you do not know what you ask! I am bound by oaths stronger than blood; I cannot marry anyone who has not taken the same Oath."

She looked at first affronted, then angry, and then a stubborn look entered her eyes, "what is the value of an Oath to a corrupt organization like the Order?"

"My Lady, if I broke any oath how could I claim to be an honorable man? But it is not any oath I have taken to the Order that binds me. If you must, talk to Conrad after I have gone...if you must know more. I wish you all the best in finding an honorable man and in the future success of your reign." With that, he fled from the garden and saw her no more, he smiled in grim irony that a warrior of his experience and skill could so easily be put to flight by the proposals of a young lady! She remained for some time thinking and gazing longingly in the direction of his flight, wondering what it was she had said or done or hadn't.

The next morning, Tristan was awakened by a knock at his door; the Order's envoy stood there with a servant beside him. The messenger entered the tiny room as the servant bowed himself out, "Tristan?"

"Yes," said Tristan wearily, for it had been a sleepless night.

"I bring information for your eyes alone," replied the envoy. He handed Tristan two pieces of parchment: one was a letter to him from the High Council of the Order and the other was addressed to the Lady of Astoria, demanding that he be allowed to stay on indefinitely as the Order's official emissary. The Lady would love that, but she had been forewarned. Tristan had sent off one of Conrad's pigeons with a message for her about his current and future assignments. The letter addressed to himself informed him that he could now call himself 'Captain' and outlined his duties as the official Advisor to the Lady of Astoria. He was to advise her in all matters regarding the Order, to attend her at all possible times, to inform the Council immediately of any important developments, and to eventually wheedle or intimidate her into allowing a garrison to be stationed in Astoria. He was also to keep his eyes open for any potential recruits for the Order, as locals might be easier to station there than foreigners, and anyone who might make a trusty spy. The Lady was going to love this, but then it was of her own doing! He quashed a wry grin at the thought before the envoy thought him insolent.

Tristan thanked the envoy, signed the form stating he had received the specified documents, and sent him on his way. He was packed and ready to go within half an hour. He knocked on Lyre's door and thanked him for his time and example, Lyre bid him adieu with more joy than befitted his departure, but as long as he was happy, Tristan would not ruin it for him.

At last allowing himself the pleasure of a wry grin, he went down to the stables and saddled Aria, not up for an argument if he dared ask the grooms to attempt the monumental task. He stopped briefly by the larder to acquire some trail-worthy food and a quick breakfast, and was well on his way shortly after sunrise. As he rode away, a great weight lifted from his shoulders and he urged the mare to a faster pace. She complied immediately, excited to be on the road once more; she despised being crammed in a stall and treated like a normal horse. Tristan laughed in relief, sharing her sudden sense of release. From a window high atop the palace, the Queen watched him ride off long after he was lost in the distance.

### Chapter 8

A little more than a week of hard riding brought them home at last. Thankfully, nothing more exciting than a rainstorm dared interrupt their journey to Astoria, for Tristan needed every moment to regain his composure. So much had happened during his absence that he felt he had been away years instead of months. He wondered what had come of Pallin, the boy must be nearly ready to take his Oath by now, if he wished to do so; hopefully he would be there in time to see it. He also mused upon the fate of the eight bandits he had sent to Astoria. The Lady would have much to say upon his arrival, thought he ruefully, but she was the one who had ordered him into this mess in the first place! He rode into the city in full uniform, save for the fake horn on his mount, he thought the things gaudy, and it would have been gauche to put one on a real unicorn, though Aria was strangely amused at the irony of the idea. He would have preferred to slip in anonymously, but there were certainly spies in the pay of the Order amongst the servants and townsfolk and he could not risk destroying his cover quite yet. As he rode through the vast collection of shops and houses surrounding the walls of the actual city, he received many curious looks from the townsfolk but no one dared speak to him. The unicorn snorted in mirth at their apparent dread while Tristan wondered what awaited him within the city proper.

At the gate entering the city, he was stopped for questioning; the guards were taking no chances after their last encounter with one of the Order's emissaries. The guards who accosted him were both members of the Warrior sect and looked like they could easily handle Tristan alone and unarmed. He dismounted and bowed to both of them, even as they did a double take when they got a closer look at him. The man on the left gasped, "what is the world coming to!"

"Are you a wolf in sheep's clothing or a sheep in wolf's clothing?" smiled the man on the right.

"That you will have to ask the Lady," laughed Tristan, "this is her doing and she is expecting me, though as far as you are concerned, I am simply the Order's Emissary to the Lady and nothing more."

They nodded and allowed him to pass, though one barked after him in mock severity, "I hope you are better behaved than the last Knight of your Order who passed this way." Aria's ears twitched in irritation, she was growing tired of the subterfuge, no matter how much she enjoyed the irony, her delight therein was now enough to sate her indefinitely.

The road climbed steadily towards the castle, many of the people in the street stopped to stare at him in disbelief and even open anger. He stared straight ahead, trying not to feel the heat in those glares. At the castle gates, he had a similar encounter with four more Warriors, but was allowed to pass with only a little hassling, they could not help themselves, it was not often they could indulge in teasing one of the Lady's Messengers. A stable boy ran out to take his mare and Tristan whispered to him, "treat her like she is one of the Brethren's own lad." Aria looked gratefully at him and for once walked quietly away, following the boy. A servant met him, bowed, and asked that Tristan follow, doing so as placidly as the mare, as was ever his wont. They snaked through the corridors and finally came to one of the smaller audience chambers, used by the Lady more informal affairs. Inside, the Lady sat by a window watching the comings and goings in the courtyard below.

"Thank you, Angbar," said she, "you may go." The servant bowed and shut the door behind him, though looking rather horrified that she would confine herself alone with such a personage, he abruptly hid the expression as he vanished. The Lady stood and faced her guest and Tristan bowed low.

They looked at one another for half a minute and then she laughed, "what have I entangled you in my dear boy!" Tristan only shook his head in shared mirth. "Of course, you probably sent me those eight bandits just to get even with me," said she in mock severity. Tristan looked at her aghast for a moment, but then she burst out laughing, "no, I know you would never do such a thing. It was all you could have done in the situation and was quite ingenious actually. It has been long since I have had a chance to talk with a dragon, but now I have spoken with several, and on more than one occasion." She smiled delightedly to herself. "Sit, sit please," she said, taking a seat across from him. There was a pot of tea and several dainty cakes on the table between them, she helped herself and motioned for him to do the same.

"Now tell me about your adventures and what this Order of yours expects of you and Astoria?" ordered she. He looked at her in disbelief at mention of 'his Order' but said nothing on that topic. He showed her both his orders and the letter addressed to herself then regaled her with his adventures since last they met. "They think a great deal of themselves I see," smiled she, tossing the letter aside, "it is good to have verification that they have spies amongst the servants and townspeople, I assumed as much and have acted accordingly, perhaps we can find them a few more 'reliable' individuals? Of course, you will have to double check all of your correspondence to the Order with me." He nodded. She continued, "perhaps I will even let you start your garrison if we can find the right group of young men to people it." He stared at her in disbelief for a moment as her meaning sunk in. "I do not see why we cannot have a few representatives within the Order, perhaps over time our example can redeem it from within, making it into a worthwhile organization, however, we will discuss that later. I find it fascinating that Queen Britna nearly made you King, but you acted as you should have and we shall speak no more on this matter, save that I must know if you have feelings for her?"

Tristan replied, only mildly flustered at the Lady's teasing tone, "I was flattered by her proposals, but I do not love her as a man ought to love a woman, while I respect her a great deal, and she is an impressive woman, I have no feelings of affection for her."

The Lady nodded in approval and moved on to the next topic of interest, "that stable boy of yours is about ready to take his Oath. He is a very impressive young man, once he is well-fed, cleaned up, and taught to speak properly. He still has issues with the Order that he will have to work through, which may make your relationship a little awkward, but I think you will be very pleased with his progress. As for your banditti, five have decided to take their Oaths and will do so at the same time as Pallin, one is studying blacksmithing, another found a local girl and has settled down to raise children and potatoes, and the eighth got himself employed at the nearest Penal Stone Quarry for trying to run off before we said he could. Seven out of eight is not bad, but next time you find so many idle persons who need something to do, maybe this Order of yours would like them?" she said it laughingly, but then added in a far too thoughtful tone, "actually, I think I will give them all back to you and the Order both!" Tristan stared at her in shock, hoping she wasn't serious.

"When I sent the Brethren to the four corners of the world with a mandate to spread the Truth openly and wherever they could, I had no idea of the results I would get," mused she, "we have had more new recruits showing up in the last several months than we have had over the last decade! Our teachers are overwhelmed. It is a nice problem to have, but we will need to find places to apprentice these youngsters once they have taken their Oaths. I think you would do well apprenticing six or so, say five bandits and a stable boy?"

Tristan finally understood, though he was not sure how he was going to handle six at once. Usually one newly sworn apprentice was placed with a seasoned Brother for a year or two to hone skills and get field experience, but six at one time?! He also wondered how this would work with his cover as a member of the Order.

The Lady smiled knowingly, as if she truly could read his mind, "do not worry about your little charade, just write to those lovely masters of yours that I have assigned you a small group of boys to mentor since I do not think you will have much else to do while you are here. You can also inform them that you are taking the assignment to appease my insanity, and because you think you may be able to win them over to the Order. That should make everyone happy. The Order already thinks I'm mad after the report they undoubtedly received from their last representative, this will only confirm it. Besides, the spies will notice I have applicants coming out my ears and am desperate to place them with skilled mentors, even if I must find them outside the Brethren. I hope they will be content in knowing that you are at least making some headway where that other fellow, Brisby?... did not."

Tristan thought her plan insane, but also ingenious. He had not had an apprentice in a very long time, perhaps she was also making up for lost time? He was a member of the smallest sect: the Messengers. The Messengers had the most dangerous and varied missions, thus they must excel in the areas of knowledge, martial skills, and communication, instead of specializing in one area as the other sects did. One could apply for any sect, but the Messengers only took in the very best applicants, for theirs were the most sensitive and dangerous missions. Tristan wondered if his six future apprentices were all talented enough to be potential Messengers, or if the Lady just figured he could keep them out of trouble until they could be placed with a more permanent mentor.

"Now," said the Lady, calling his attention back to herself, away from his introspection, "I will inform the rest of the Brethren in Astoria about your 'delicate' situation and have them treat you accordingly. The only exception will be that you may attend the Oath-taking, but it must be done secretly so as not to expose your true identity." Tristan nodded in acknowledgement, bid the Lady goodnight, before following the waiting servant to his quarters.

The next morning, Tristan had just finished dressing when he heard a servant knock at his door. "Sir," he said, "there is a young man who wishes to see you." He gave a sideways glance at a tall, muscular young man in the uniform of a Student, but recognition was not immediate, for Pallin had grown and filled out so much in his absence that he was hardly the same boy. Tristan smiled and asked him to come in, a smile of pure joy played across the boy's face at the sight of his long absent friend, but it dissolved into confusion and anger as he took in what Tristan was wearing.

"What!? How!" he almost sobbed. Tristan tried to put a calming arm around the distressed shoulders but he was pushed violently away. "You know what they are to me," he half yelled, half wept.

"Relax," sighed Tristan in slight exasperation at yet another unforeseen complication from the Lady's insistence on this charade, "you know me better than that. Would I ever do anything to violate the Lady's commands, the laws of the Master, my Oath, or the Common Law?" Tears continued to stream down his face but a glimmer of hope crept into the boy's eyes. "Think about it," persisted the man, "had I violated my Oath, I would stand before you a shriveled and broken man, if I could stand at all! You know what happens to those who deny the Master after swearing their lives to His service." The boy nodded, shuddering involuntarily at the thought of such a fate. With the taking of the Oath, the Brethren received, among other special abilities and gifts, a very long life. In revoking or breaking the Oath, the abilities and gifts were also lost. If the former Brother had lived a very long time already, his years would swiftly catch up with him. The boy visibly relaxed at this, looked hopefully at Tristan, yearning for more of an explanation. "This uniform is simply a disguise," said he ruefully, "I find no pleasure in wearing the thing, but the Lady wishes to know more about what these so-called Knights and what they are up to. I am the unhappy man she chose for this mission, as part of that quest I somehow find myself here as their emissary to her! I must pretend to have allegiance to them while still being loyal to her. What a perfect disaster!"

The boy laughed and embraced the man he looked upon as a father. "She speaks well of you," said Tristan with quiet pride, "and by the look of it, you are doing very well indeed. I shall be attending your Oath-taking this afternoon, but it must be kept an absolute secret. To you and everyone else I am no member of the Brethren but a despised Knight of the Order."

No one outside the Brethren was allowed to attend an Oath-taking, but Tristan would find a way to smuggle himself in. They spent much of the morning catching up, until Pallin had to leave to prepare for the afternoon's events. Tristan smiled wistfully as he watched the young man dash off in excitement and trepidation, he had felt the same way many long years ago. He went in search of the Lady. Upon finding her, he made some eloquent remarks about his hope for their future illustrious relationship; she made some non-committal statements and informed him she had business to attend to; he bowed and let her pass. The display was all staged for the convenience and edification of any eavesdroppers that might wish to report it to their masters. He hoped it looked authentic, Lyre had taught him much about obsequiousness, and he prided himself on being a good student, no matter the discipline!

He returned to his room, grabbed an armload of presorted articles, and headed for the stables; there he met one of the Brethren who did not plan on attending the day's event. Tristan quickly dressed the obliging man in an Order uniform and had him mount the irritated Aria, she only reluctantly carried anyone but Tristan, but at least she cooperated this time. His double then rode off, very obviously for an afternoon's ride. Tristan slipped into the long familiar uniform of the Brethren, threw a hooded cloak over his head, and hid in the hayloft for several hours, hoping no one was crazy enough to wait that long to watch him emerge. He slipped out a back door and headed for the ceremony.

The castle was built atop a hill, whose very crown was enclosed in a high, stone wall and left open. Down the center of the hill ran a deep crevice, which many millennia ago had been rent open by the slaying of the Master in place of an innocent girl. It was on this hilltop that the Oath-taking took place, though on quieter days it was simply a green space wherein off-duty unicorns grazed and the castle residents often took their ease. Tristan slipped quietly into the small knot of gathered Brethren who had assembled as witnesses to the day's events. No one remarked him as anything out of the ordinary. Although it was impossible for one of the Brethren to act as a spy, there were still servants and townsfolk about in the castle proper so he must be careful.

The candidates formed a single file line on the far side of the crevice. The Lady and her unicorn stood on the other side near the assembled Brethren. Without ceremony or preamble, she took a wicked looking steel instrument and drew forth a shower of silver blood from the great neck vein of the patient unicorn. An assistant caught the precious fluid in a silver cup as the Lady quickly repaired the hole in the creature's vein and skin with a few practiced stitches. She then turned to the assembled applicants, who were nearly trembling in fear and anticipation, saying, "you have come today to swear an Oath before all here assembled. To serve none but the Master, His laws and Truth, and those appointed by Him to oversee said Truth. You swear to forsake all personal possessions, dreams, and aspirations. You swear to dedicate your lives to His service alone; to uphold justice, peace, and love for others. You swear to lay down your life, if need be, in defense of the helpless and the Truth. You swear to abide by the Common Law, the Truth, and the laws of the Brethren. You swear not to enter into marriage with any save one who has also sworn this Oath. You do not swear to be perfect, but to try your best and overcome your weaknesses. You may forsake this Oath at any time of your own choosing or you will be forsaken by the Brethren and the Master if you grievously and intentionally violate the tenets you have sworn herein and upon such occasion, you shall lose all rights, responsibilities, and privileges acquired by the taking of this Oath."

She looked gravely at each of the assembled candidates and said, "does any here have any doubts or questions about what the Oath entails?" No one spoke. "Then come forward, and if you swear the Oath, step across the crevice and say so before the assembled witnesses and the Master Himself. If any wish to forego the Oath, let him leave now." No one moved. "Then you may take your Oath," finished she.

One by one, the assembled candidates stepped across the gaping fissure and said, 'I so swear,' and upon stepping to the other side, was handed the cup of silver blood. Each then took a finger, dipped it in the cup, and placed a drop of the silver fluid on their tongues. There was no overt physical change, save to the assembled Brethren the newcomers now seemed to have a faint glow about their persons, only noticeable to one who had also taken the Oath. After the last applicant had stepped across, the assembled Brethren cheered and embraced their new Brothers.

Tristan slipped quietly out of the assembly and returned to the stable to await his double. The faux Knight arrived some time later and hid himself in the straw. Tristan thanked him and the mare, donned his Order uniform, now dirty and smelling of horse, left the stable, and returned to his quarters. Later, he came downstairs to supper and sat at one of the tables reserved for guests. The new Apprentices sat at the Lady's table in a place of honor for the night. Tristan caught Pallin's eye, smiling his approval. The boy nearly glowed with excitement.

The next morning, Tristan was woken before the sun by a loud knocking at his door. "Yes," asked he groggily, starting awake. Six large boys or more appropriately, young men, in the everyday uniform of an Apprentice, stood smiling villainously outside his door. The Lady was most definitely having too much fun with this! He shut the door, quickly donned his own uniform, washed his face, and tried to tame his hair. He opened the door again, but the boys still stood there grinning like fools. "You probably think this is funny," said he to no one in particular, "but you will soon learn this is no place or time for silliness." They grinned all the more. This was going to be a long day!

He led them quietly to the stable, where they found his unicorn already waiting. They each saddled a normal horse and headed out into the fields surrounding the city. Each would eventually find a unicorn, but sometimes it took a month or more, no one was sure how the whole process worked. How did the unattached unicorns know when their services were needed, how they decided who volunteered for such service, or why a particular unicorn partnered with a particular apprentice? All they knew was that some time during the first few weeks or even months of an apprenticeship, a unicorn inadvertently showed up and would not go away. There was no formal oath or ceremony, the unicorn just appeared and you were quite literally stuck with them. The creatures were very intelligent, perhaps wiser than any creature save the dragons. They could not physically talk, but they did not need to: you felt what they wanted you to know and they could sense what you were thinking and feeling. Nothing short of death or betrayal could separate you from the impossibly faithful creatures. They could travel great distances swiftly, quietly, and without exhaustion, they could cloak themselves in various guises, including looking and smelling like a normal horse, and they were fearsome fighters, nothing save a dragon could overcome a full-grown stallion. In other words, they were the ideal companion for the many dangers and lonely roads faced in service to the Master and the Lady.

Tristan's only goal for the day was to see how well these lads knew their stuff and to get to better acquainted with them as individuals. The last he had seen of them, they had been an ill-spoken stable boy and five bandit-wannabes. They apparently knew how to handle a horse, for they rode the rather grueling course he led them with ease. He quizzed them on a variety of subjects, finding them comfortable with history, literature, music, art, politics, geography, and a variety of other topics. Next, he watched as they paired off and had sparred with a variety of weapons and then with nothing but their hands and feet. Then he turned them loose on the archery range. He was quite impressed, for they had learned much in only a few months! He had never seen such a talented and eager bunch of young men. They spent the late afternoon going over the finer points of the Common Law, the Truth, and strictures of the Brethren, which they knew almost by rote and could interpret and use in a variety of hypothetical situations. Tristan grinned eagerly to himself, the lads were definitely going to keep him on his toes!

At suppertime, they sat at a small table with their newfound leader. The Lady smiled approvingly at her apparently unhappy headmaster as he gave her a mock-glower; the spies should have much to report. His quarters were moved in his absence to the large room his six apprentices now shared in the wing that housed the students, servants, and unattached apprentices. The move was meant to further convince anyone who cared to notice, that he was being carefully watched at all times by the Lady and her minions. He had had much worse bunkmates in the past so he did not complain, at least no one snored! After supper, they talked of the past and the future. They were all aware of his true status as a member of the Brethren, but to everyone else they pretended he was an imposed upon Knight of the Order, delighting in the subterfuge. Tristan actually found himself looking forward to their time together, much as the pleasantness of his time in Vespera had surprised him, Lyre's odious presence excepted of course.

His first letter to the Order found a quick reply. They were surprised at the strange course things had taken, but were delighted that he had at least been allowed to stay in the city and to occasionally see the Lady. The idea of converting a few of these Brethren to the Order's cause was also intriguing, though having no clue that it was impossible for one of the Brethren to truly give himself over, heart and soul, without violating his Oath, they continued to contemplate the concept in delighted ignorance. The members of his former unit were doing well and having a very positive influence on the behavior of other members of the Order. They also noted that they would watch his progress with much anticipation. The Lady was pleased by this response, and hoped that any correspondence the spies sent to their contacts within the Order only corroborated what they knew from Tristan's reports.

Tristan and his apprentices fell into a routine of practicing, expanding, and honing their skills and knowledge during the several months they were under his tutelage. Each lad had applied to join the Messenger sect and all were given permission based on their outstanding progress. Tristan was having the time of his life instructing such a skilled and committed group of young men. Even more astonishing, each lad had met his unicorn companion within the first week of their advanced training. The lads began to comment occasionally in public about their respect for their teacher and that perhaps the Order would be an interesting place to advance their careers. The spies were happy to pass on these little tidbits, much to the Order's delight, they urged Tristan to get a commitment from such promising young men as soon as may be.

Soon, it was decided that all save Pallin would 'join' the Order and they began to jokingly call their room 'the garrison.' Pallin could not even pretend such a thing, but he was faring better with his enmity towards the Order, gradually overcoming his hatred of them. He slowly began to see the Order as a group of individuals who were misguided and desperately needed the knowledge he had to give. He once viewed the Order as a giant machine, composed of soulless ghouls whose only intent was to rape, pillage, and murder. Tristan was proud of his men, but hated having to involve them with the Order, but perhaps the Lady's idea of reforming the Order from within would one day come to fruition through efforts such as this, however much he disliked involving himself or anyone else with the Order.

One evening, as they were walking back to the city for supper, they had left the unicorns to their own devices back in the city, as Tristan had wanted to drill them on their tracking skills, they came upon a lone horseman walking his weary mount towards the city, as if he had spent many long days in the saddle yet was reluctant to reach his final destination. It was a curious sight, but no one heeded him. He stopped his mount a bowshot from the gate, glaring at the city, or perhaps something within. Whatever it was he hated, he hated it with all his being; hate seemed to roll off him in waves, hatred enough to drive one nearly mad. As Tristan and his apprentices skirted the man, continuing on towards the main gate, the man switched his glare from the city to the interlopers alongside his horse. The uniform of the Order, worn by the leader of the small group, caught his single, baleful eye.

Recognition dawned, as he saw the face he hated almost as much as he hated the Lady and her vile city. But another memory stirred. With the city so close, memories came back to him of his previous visit and with them, he remembered seeing that face before. He had rightfully tried to smite an offensive whelp of a boy, but the very traitor he saw before him had robbed him of his vengeance. The very man he had been sent to check up on was right there before him, completely unaware of the evil thoughts running through Brisbane's mind. The man had been an inmate of this foul city long before he had ever joined the Order; he must be one of them! He was a traitor to the Order, not to mention the man Brisbane most reviled. An evil leer lit his face as he drew his sword and leapt from his horse, uttering an insane howl of vengeance. Tristan was lost deep in thought and had unwisely ignored the tired horseman. He was drawn from his contemplations by an eerie howl, only to find Brisbane nearly on top of him.

Tristan managed to draw his sword in time to block the initial attack, but could not bring it around before the dagger Brisbane held in his other hand plunged deep into his chest. He spasmed in pain, falling to the ground, and clutching at the hilt of the offending weapon, gasping for air. Brisbane, wild with exhilaration at striking a fatal blow, stood laughing in triumph, only to be tackled to the ground by four of the apprentices. The guards at the gate sounded the alarm, drew their swords, and came running.

Dresden, the unofficial leader amongst the apprentices, bellowed at Pallin to see to Tristan. Pallin had drawn his sword and was making a mad dash towards the prone Brisbane. The frustrated apprentice threw his sword to the ground and reluctantly obeyed; he knelt by Tristan's side as he struggled for each breath, his face contorted in pain. Tears of anguish and futility streamed down the boy's face. Somewhere within the city, a scream of utter rage and terror ripped through the night. People screamed and jumped aside as a unicorn, in all its terrible glory, thundered towards the desperate scene. Tristan was barely conscious, but managed to murmur to the grief-stricken Pallin, "remember your Oath..." He trailed off with a pained gasp, lapsing into silence and darkness. The mare reached her dying master and gently nuzzled his pallid face. Everyone was struck dumb by the sheer beauty and grief of the scene. They watched helplessly as the stricken man made one last painful gasp for air and then lay still. She nuzzled him desperately, even as her eyes rolled back into her head, she groaned, and then fell over as if struck dead; she convulsed a few times and then lay still, a horrible, gaping wound now rent her side, the light that had once suffused her entire being dimmed then vanished.

Tristan jumped as if someone had doused him with cold water. "No!" he groaned feebly and crawled weakly to the side of the dead unicorn. "No..." wept he into her dingy mane. He held the noble head in his lap, as her color faded from white to misty grey to mist itself. She seemed to dissolve into thin air; nothing remained but the trampled vegetation and a few specks of silver blood. "No!" cried he in a half strangled voice. He weakly drew himself to his feet and picked up Pallin's abandoned sword; everyone stared at him in fear and confusion. Slowly he walked towards the pinned Brisbane, holding the sword a few inches from his nose. "You have slain that which is dearest to the Master and myself, the wisest and most faithful of creatures that live upon the earth. If I could, I would slay you myself, but that is for others to decide. May the Master have mercy on your soul!" With that, he flung the sword aside and walked heavily off into the gathering night.

Pallin made as if to follow him, but Dresden held him back, saying quietly, "let him be." The guards and dazed apprentices hauled Brisbane to his feet and dragged the furious man into the city.

### Chapter 9

Tristan wandered aimlessly in the darkness and wept bitterly; he found a rocky shelf on the edge of a still pool and flung himself down beside the water. His tears made small splashes in the pond while the full moon hung in mocking reflection just above his tormented face. He lay there for some time, weeping for the loss of his best friend and truest companion. He glanced miserably at the unfeeling reflection of the moon, wondering how it could shine so gaily in the face of such tragedy. When he looked again, he was looking not at the moon but into the face of the Master Himself. There was love and compassion in His eyes, but also the authority of the One who had the power to make the worlds spin, or stop, according to His whims.

"Why do you weep?" asked He.

"I weep for one I have lost, as dear to me as mother, sister, or wife," sighed Tristan heavily.

"You do not weep for her, for you know you have not lost her," replied the Master quietly, "you weep for yourself. You know she runs free in the lands beyond mortal woes: far beyond all pain, care, or worry. You also know you shall meet again, when your work is done. Why do you weep? Why do you weep when you have not lost her, but are merely parted for a little while? Now gather what strength and courage you have and go. Evil is stirring and the light grows faint. There are many crying out for what only you and your Brothers can give. Find them and stop the fall of final night. You do not ride alone, for I ride with you, whatever betide! But this battle is yours to fight, I will lend you strength and aid, but only you can conquer this evil tide. I stepped in once, but I will not do so again until the End of Time. Weep no more, rather take My peace, My joy, and My confidence, and ride out to conquer the foe that rises in the West."

The light dimmed a little, but was still brighter than the moon was wont to be. It was still a unicorn's head reflected there, but his eyes held only love and concern, not the power to unmake worlds. The horn was shorter and of silver not gold, for it was a unicorn of the mortal race. At first Tristan's heart leapt for joy at the thought that his beloved Aria had returned, for the noble head held much resemblance to hers, but further inspection revealed a bearded chin, marking this a stallion. Tristan turned his head to found a great white stallion staring him in the face. He recognized him now as Taragon, Aria's eldest foal. He flung his arms around the great neck; the noble creature placed his head on the sobbing Brother's back, for some time they held this position, each taking comfort in the other's presence. Finally, Tristan climbed weakly onto the great back, clinging helplessly to the mane. The valiant beast ran as swiftly as the wind and as softly as a shadow through the moonlit woods: splashing through creeks, silver in the moonlight, dodging the boles of ancient trees. Not a leaf stirred in their passing. In the early watches of the night, they rode together through the gates of Astoria; the city stood silent as the grave, with only the guards to note their passing. In the courtyard of the castle stood the Lady, tears glinted unshed in her eyes. Tristan dismounted and she laid a hand on his shoulder. He bowed his head in thanks, together they walked silently into the keep.

The greatest gift a unicorn can give its master is its very life. Tristan had suffered a mortal blow, but was not quite dead. Aria arrived in time, taking the wound upon herself and dying from it, but Tristan was completely healed, save for being a bit weak and tired. He could not continue in the Order's service after the night's tragedy. He and Pallin would head west in search of this rising evil of which the Master had warned. The five other apprentices would remain in Astoria under the command of Dresden, officially joining the Order to become the first official garrison in Astoria. Tristan wrote a letter detailing his resignation, the murder attempt by Brisbane, who was facing execution under Astorian law, and the decision of the five young men to join the Order. He also requested that Bristol be sent as the new emissary to Astoria and that he be put in charge of the so-called garrison. Tristan rested for a few weeks, briefed Bristol when he arrived, said his goodbyes, and then he and Pallin headed into the Utter West.

The uttermost west was a mysterious land between the Western Sea and the Impassable Mountains. While the Wilds of the north were untamed and sparsely populated, this far western land was inhabited, but there was so little exchange of news and goods with the rest of the known world, that little was truly known of the isolated country, as arduous mountains cut it off on one side while the treacherous sea made it dangerous to navigate on the other. The mountains could be dared during the warmer parts of the year, but the passes were narrow and only men on foot, single file on horseback, or with a mule train could pass through; they were also home to mysterious, and sometimes evil, creatures that flourished in such wild and lonely places. Bandits often lurked in the narrow passes, preying on those that dared make the journey. The goods that did manage to pass over the mountains were considered luxuries due to their rarity and were highly sought after by the rich and powerful.

Rumors and stories abounded of that far land, but few had ventured forth and even fewer had returned to tell of it. The truth remained elusive, with each tale told being stranger and darker than the last. The Lady had sent emissaries over the mountains, but none had ever come back and no word had ever reached her of their fate. She was hesitant to send Tristan, but he was determined to go, nor did the Master give such warnings often or lightly, and only a fool would ignore Him! All sensed that evil was growing on all fronts and seemed to know that something worse was imminent, though none knew what. The uttermost west was the perfect place for something terrifying to brood and grow until it could sweep the world away into darkness unfathomable. Someone must go.

Tristan and Pallin set out as soon as they could, hoping to pass the mountains in mid-summer, when the chances of becoming trapped by foul weather were least. It would take a month of hard riding just to reach the mountains themselves, each man had a packhorse loaded with the supplies they would need on the cross-country journey, which they would restock before attempting the mountains. Bristol arrived to take over 'the garrison,' though he was not happy to learn that he would have to double-check everything he did with the Lady first, but as long as he was leading men on Astorian soil, he must abide by the laws of the Brethren. He was however, very glad to see Tristan again, though grieved about his encounter with Brisbane, he was not surprised. He wished Tristan well on his journey, though doubting the sanity and necessity of it, he promised to serve the Lady as best he could. Though Tristan had officially resigned from the Order, he packed his spare uniform, if not exactly sure why. The Lady bid them goodbye and watched sadly as they rode off towards the evening, wondering if she would ever see them again.

They camped most nights on their trip, but occasionally they had the chance to stay at an inn along the way. Their first such stop was at the very inn at which Pallin had been the stable boy so many months before. It was a strange experience for him to sit in the common room as a guest at table, rather than to sit alone in the dark stable hoping there would be a few scraps left for his supper. No one recognized him, as he had grown and filled out and was no longer dressed in rags, not that anyone was likely to remember such an inauspicious creature anyway. Tristan's heart went out to the poor urchin who currently filled Pallin's former post. Pallin could only stare in wonder at the starving boy that had once been him. They spent an uneventful night and were on the road again early the next morning, as they rode, Pallin asked, "why did we not pick up that poor boy and take him with us?"

Tristan smiled ironically and said, "because he is far safer there than we may be very soon. We help those we can, but there is so much need and suffering in the world that one person cannot do everything, and trying to do everything will only beggar you or drive you to despair. Each of us needs to take responsibility for those things we can change for the better, and if enough people acted accordingly, the world would be a much better place." They rode on in thoughtful silence.

They arose early each morning, riding as far into the evening as they could; the days continued to lengthen, allowing more time in the saddle each day. Traveling by main roads as often as they could and only stopping to water or rest the horses or sleep for the night, they made excellent time. Two plainly dressed men crossing the known world from east to west through civilized country caused little comment and no concern; the world was still fairly peaceful and travelers went frequently to and fro on their own business in those days. It was a pleasant ride, though long, and they were tired of their saddles by the time they reached the Last Chance Inn at the base of the Impassable Mountains.

Tristan decided to rest a bit before tackling the mountains, while the unicorns could go on, the packhorses could use a rest as much, if not more so, than the men. The inn was pleasant, though small, and the staff very curious, as they did not get many travelers planning to head over the mountains in those ever-darkening days. Tristan simply said they had a wish to see what was on the other side, if there really was anything so very mysterious about the land between the mountains and the sea. They spent five days at the inn, during which they restocked their supplies and made ready to head over the mountains. The innkeeper, all his family, and staff gathered to see them off, thinking they might be the last living men to do so. Their path had started to climb several days before reaching the Inn, as they traversed the foothills, and as they set out on the final leg of their journey, they found the terrain rising steeply towards the summit. They had some semblance of a map, which Tristan had copied from a very faded and aged specimen the innkeeper had inherited from kin, who knew how many generations back. Whether it was reliable or not was another question, but it was all they had.

Tristan checked the map occasionally, but mostly they let the unicorns find their own way, for they had a remarkable path finding ability. On the eastern side of the mountains, they traveled through sagebrush, weathered grasses, scrubby pines, and such plants as could grow in rocky soil where little rain fell. On the western side, they expected to find the slopes heavily forested, but for now there was little cover for those who wished to pass unseen. For several days, they traveled without incident, though the going was slow, as the trail wound up and down, back and forth seeking the easiest path, scree slipped and slid under foot, large rocks and fallen trees further slowed their passage. One night a large, dark shape was seen prowling among the rocks and shadows just outside of the fire's light, whatever it was sniffed the air, wheezed as if it had caught an unexpected and unpleasant scent, and quickly shuffled off into the darkness. It had apparently smelled something it would rather not tangle with; Taragon seemed rather proud of himself, while Tristan could only scratch his head in wonder. After that encounter, they were not bothered by any of the local wildlife, but there might still be human predators abroad.

One morning as they were beginning their descent, they were forced to travel through a narrow valley that zigzagged out of sight. It was a perfect place for an ambush, but it was also their only choice at the moment. Slowly they entered, Tristan led and Pallin followed, but nothing happened. They rode on for half an hour, all remained silent, save the crunching of stone beneath hooves. As they neared the end of the erratic valley, the unicorns' ears pricked and their nostrils flared; they had caught some faint sound or scent out of place in the silent pass. The men unsheathed their swords and prepared for flight or battle.

"Now, now gentlemen," said a singsong voice from above, "I would not want to have to kill you just because of a slight misunderstanding. Put those away before you get hurt." Tristan looked up to see several men perched above, on either side of the pass, with bows bent and arrows ready to fly. The leader and spokesman was an unshaven, weedy fellow with a triumphant smirk on his face. Tristan nodded to Pallin and they sheathed their weapons. "Good, good," continued the man, "now ride on out of that crack and once you get out into the open you will find some of my lads who will take your weapons. Remember, I have you covered, so no funny business."

They quietly complied, Pallin only reluctantly, for he seemed ready to go out in the blaze of glory rather than surrender; Tristan smiled grimly at the boy's determination to resist, remembering his own first adventures. They reached the end of the little valley, where it opened into a wide meadow, where half a dozen men waited triumphantly for them, half held swords at the ready while the rest had arrows nocked. The weedy fellow had followed along the top of the ridge and now stood on the rocky crest above them, while the rest of his henchmen covered them with bows on both sides of the opening, said he, "now if you will be so kind as to dismount and hand your weapons to these helpful chaps, we would much appreciate the effort." They handed their swords and daggers to their captors, but the unicorns tossed their heads in defiance as several men came forward to take their reins, only quieting, and that reluctantly, as Tristan signaled them to cooperate. The horses were led off and secured to some small trees while the men started to rifle through packs and saddlebags. "Now anything you carry of value, please hand to my friends as well: purses, coins, jewelry, that sort of thing," grinned the weedy fellow. They carried little of value save their coin purses and these were handed to the bandits, as they were then escorted to a fallen log and told to take a seat.

As they sat and waited for whatever came next, the head bandit came over and began snooping about their persons, hoping to find any as yet hidden valuables, but walked away disappointed. After his men had gone through their things twice and found nothing of any great value or interest, the weedy man said, "now gentlemen, it appears you have nothing I really want. You have some food, equipment, and supplies that might come in handy, a little coin in your purses, but nothing that really perks my interest. I am desperately trying to find some reason to spare your lives, but you have nothing to trade for them! And you know you cannot get anything for nothing. Perhaps you have some useful information that would bring a good price if whispered in the right ear?"

Tristan said calmly, "we are just simple travelers wishing to see what lies on the other side of these mountains. We have nothing with us but that which is required for our journey. We know little of use to a man such as yourself, for we are simple men of little importance in the world, but why must you kill us just because we carry nothing of value? You would kill us anyway, even if we had something to 'trade' for our lives."

"I see you are no fool," shrugged the scoundrel, "you are right in thinking I would kill you, regardless of what you carry, if I meant to kill you. I was just hoping to discover if you did have anything worthwhile."

"So you are going to let us go?" asked Pallin hopefully. Tristan smiled ruefully at his apprentice's naiveté.

"Let you go?" laughed the other man, "Do not be ridiculous! You two are worth a lot to the right people."

"Slavery!" said Tristan vehemently.

"Not exactly," said the man, "think of it more as being drafted. They are building an army west of the mountains and a couple sturdy lads like yourselves will bring a good price, especially you," he said, pointing at Tristan, "I found some sort of military uniform amongst your baggage, by the look of it, you had or have some sort of significant rank in whatever outfit you were or are part of?" he looked questioningly at Tristan.

"I was once a Captain, but I have resigned my commission and taken up adventuring," said Tristan, "the rigors of service proved too much for me and I needed a break."

"Well, I hope you are well rested," sneered the other man, "because you are about to reenlist." He walked away laughing. Pallin glanced at Tristan worriedly, but he did not seem concerned in the least, rather a slight, eager smile graced his lips.

They camped in the meadow that night, half of their new 'friends' were to take them down to the foot of the mountains on the morrow and put them safely into the hands of whomever it was that was building this army. The next morning, before they rode off, Earl, the weedy looking fellow, had a brief chat with them, "now gentlemen, I am sending you down the hill with my best men. They have been instructed to kill first and ask questions later, so I suggest you cooperate. Behave yourselves and you will be well treated. I am going to give you back your weapons, as you may need to defend yourselves on the way down, for there are scary things lurking in the passes. Once you get out of the mountains, you will meet up with our contact and he will take you from there. Any questions?"

Tristan asked, "what exactly do you get out of this?"

"I will answer that just because I feel in a chatty sort of mood," grinned Earl, "I get to keep any valuable trinkets my 'guests' might have in their possession and for every sturdy gentleman I turn over to my contact, I get a nice 'finder's fee,' if you get my meaning. Now off with you, and remember to be good boys!" he laughed as two men came to escort them to their horses. Their weapons were returned and they were allowed to ride as long as they cooperated, otherwise they would be forced to walk behind the mounted men with a loop of rope binding their hands and held by the rider ahead of them. They wisely chose to cooperate.

It took several days to ride down out of the forested slopes. One night in camp, Pallin quietly asked Tristan, "how are we going to escape?"

"We are not," Tristan replied, with that strangely eager grin, "we were sent to find whatever evil is stirring in the west, this may be the quickest way to find it."

Pallin looked at him nervously, but had to trust his judgment, but no more was said of escape. They exited the mountains uneventfully, and once upon level ground, they traveled for half a day before encountering a very small village, the first outpost of civilization the Brethren had seen since leaving the inn on the far side of the mountains. Two of the bandits and their captives entered the inn, to find an absolutely huge man at a tiny table. "Hector!" cried he, "I see you have brought me two fine specimens."

"That we did sir," grinned one of the bandits, "both can stay on a horse and will not accidentally stab himself with his own sword."

"Good, good!" smiled the large man.

"The older one even claims to have been a captain or some such," said Hector.

"Really?" mused the man, "I will give you the regular price for the boy and twice that for the other."

"Earl says not to take less than three times the price for the older and double for the younger, as they are both experienced," said Hector.

"Do they have horses?" queried the large man.

"Yes, two look like war horses if I have ever seen a charger, and two pack animals," said Hector.

"You drive a hard bargain my friend, but I will give you one and a half for the younger and two and a half for the older; you keep the pack horses and I will take the chargers, otherwise you might as well keep the whole lot," said the man.

"It is a deal," said Hector. The large man motioned and a stubby secretary appeared with a chest of coins. Hector double counted it and seemed happy, "they are all yours, sir."

"Keep'em coming Hector, keep'em coming," laughed the huge man, "take a seat, gentlemen," said the large man to Tristan and Pallin, after Hector had left; they dutifully sat across the table from their new owner.

"My name is Rolf, and I am a Captain in her Majesty's service," said the large man, "I am the one who is going to decide what course your life takes from here on out, so I suggest you cooperate." Tristan and Pallin nodded their agreement. "Very good," Rolf continued, "is what Hector said true?"

Tristan spoke, "yes Captain, our horses are war-trained, though they will never bear any riders but us. I was once a Captain in a military unit but resigned my commission some months ago. The boy has had some training with weapons and is a promising young soldier."

"Good," nodded Rolf, "you will be evaluated on your martial skills and then assigned to further training or to active duty in one of her majesty's military units. You will receive pay, uniforms, equipment, food, and housing. In exchange, you will obey orders and do as you are told. If you disobey, you will be sent to the slave mines to quarry rock for the rest of your miserable days, if we do not just kill you on the spot. The length of your service will depend on how well you serve, how many men we need, and how long this war lasts."

"Sir," said Tristan, "exactly what war do you speak of?"

"You do not know?" asked Rolf.

"No sir," said Tristan, "we are from the other side of the mountains and this is our first time in these lands."

"Why, her majesty is going to war against all the lands beyond the mountains! She hopes to conquer everything between the eastern and western seas. Not all at once of course, but she is truly a woman with a vision," finished Rolf grandly, apparently thinking himself a fellow visionary, but also of a practical turn, he added, "now let us eat a light lunch then I want to see what you can do."

They had a light meal of bread, wine, and cheese and then were allowed to rest for an hour. The unicorns were tied to a tree outside the inn and relaxed visibly when they saw Tristan and Pallin come out. The Captain had them run through a variety of drills to evaluate their skills, he was quite impressed. Next he questioned them extensively about military tactics and theory, their knowledge surprised him. "Now," said Rolf, "you two have impressed me greatly with your skills and knowledge; I definitely got the better end of this deal! Things being what they are, I think I shall send you both directly on to her Majesty the Queen, that her generals can decide what to do with you. It would be a waste to stick either of you in the infantry, which is where most of our 'recruits' end up, but before I send you on your way, I am dying to try a quick ride on that magnificent stallion of yours."

"No sir, please," protested Tristan.

"I will give the orders, thank you very much," snapped Rolf stiffly. Tristan closed his eyes, unable to watch. Pallin smiled in anticipation, this was going to be fun! Rolf walked over to Taragon, untied him from the tree, and led him out onto the village green. The beast looked at him suspiciously out of the corner of his eye but stood patiently. Rolf launched himself into the saddle, but the minute his weight settled in the seat, the great stallion screamed his fury and set to bucking with a ferocity usually reserved for battle. The Captain was on the ground immediately, even as the unicorn resumed his usual, unflappable calm the moment Rolf was unseated; Taragon stood patiently on the sward, staring benignly at the fallen Captain. Rolf picked himself up, walking painfully back to where Tristan and Pallin stood. Pallin was trying very hard not to laugh. "Yes," said Rolf, "you might as well eat supper and then retire, for you leave early in the morning for Capithia." The little secretary magically appeared and led them to their room.

Capithia was the capital city of Westria: the country that covered all the land between the mountains and the sea. Westria's Queen had once been content simply to rule her own country, but some years ago, a shady little man had washed up on the shore, apparently the victim of a shipwreck. Some local fishermen found him and nursed him back to health. Over the next few years, he worked his way into the very highest levels of the government to become the Queen's most powerful advisor. It was he who had convinced her that it was her destiny to conquer all the lands between the Eastern and Western Seas. Some feared he had too much sway over the Queen, but many of the more vociferous objectors had quietly disappeared, the rest were too frightened to say anything upon the matter. Now she was mustering an army to fulfill her so called destiny and at the current rate, she would soon bankrupt her country, thus forcing her to go to war in hopes of conquering other lands, enabling her to bankroll her war effort. Every able-bodied man available had been begged, bribed, or shanghaied into the military; Tristan and Pallin were just the latest victims. Had they simply walked into Westria as free men, they very soon would have found themselves in similar straits, at least this way they found themselves immediately en route to Capithia and the heart of the matter.

### Chapter 10

Early the next morning, the secretary woke them, they ate breakfast, donned their new uniforms, and were soon on their way to the capital. Rolf stayed behind to collect more 'recruits,' but there were about a dozen men, besides Tristan and Pallin, that would be traveling to Capithia on various errands. The two men were given into the custody of a young Captain named Martog, along with a letter regarding the two new recruits addressed to Queen Almiria herself. Tristan and Pallin rode in the center of the column, just in case they decided to make a run for it. The unremarkable journey took them along a well-kept road running north to south that wound through flat farmland and tame woodlands; there were many villages and small towns as they wended their way through the prosperous, but heavily oppressed country. The only men they saw were young boys, grey beards, or cripples. Everywhere it was women, children, and the elderly who worked the fields or ran the inns, nowhere did they see a grown, healthy man, save in the uniform of the Westrian Army.

After a week's ride, they came to Capithia, Martog and two junior officers accompanied Tristan and Pallin while the other men dispersed about their own business. At last they came to the castle gates, where the guards stopped them, read Martog's orders, then told them to wait in the courtyard while a guard was sent running with Rolf's letter. An hour later, an important looking man in a general's uniform approached the group.

"Thank you, Martog, I will take them from here," said the general. The three soldiers bowed and left the courtyard, while the general turned to face Tristan and Pallin. "Let us go inside and find somewhere to talk," said the general. Grooms came running for the horses, as Tristan and Pallin followed the general into the castle. They found themselves very shortly in a small sitting room beside a roaring fire, and once the wine had been poured, the general dismissed the servants and faced his guests, "from Rolf's letter, I hear that you are foreigners from beyond the mountains, but that you also possess superior military skill and knowledge?"

"Yes sir," nodded Tristan, "we come from beyond the mountains and have some military acumen."

"What did you hope to accomplish by crossing the mountains?" asked the general.

"We hoped to learn more of your country and discover for ourselves which of the many rumors about this land are true and which are not," replied Tristan.

"And you had no idea we were preparing for war?" asked the general.

"None sir," said Tristan.

"What do you know of the lands beyond the mountains?" asked the general.

"In what way, sir?" queried Tristan.

"Her Majesty and her advisors know little of the lands they hope to conquer," said he, "and any information you may have would be of vital importance."

"I have traveled throughout much of the civilized and not so civilized territory east of the mountains, but whether my experience is of use, only you would know," replied Tristan.

"We have contacts within your lands, but communication is tricky and slow at best," replied the general, "but a first hand account by someone who is familiar with all that is happening east of the mountains would be immensely helpful. Her Majesty hopes that perhaps you and your companion would be able to serve her as Advisors on foreign affairs."

"You ask me to betray my people and my home?" cried Tristan in alarm.

"Not to betray," said the general slowly, "but to advise her Majesty on all sorts of mundane matters in the eastern lands; you might actually be doing your folk a great service. Whether the Queen decides to go to war or not, may depend upon your counsel." He glanced around anxiously at the empty room, "there are those amongst her closest advisors that do not wish to go forward with this action; we fear it is already beggaring our country and if it does not succeed, we may never recover. I myself do not completely understand why the Queen ever thought this a wise course to take, and many of us hope you may convince her otherwise." Tristan stared at the man in disbelief, he was now responsible for stopping this war?

The general had risked everything in telling the strangers what he had, but he felt it was the only way to stop this ill-advised assault, and for some reason, he felt he could trust them, though he had known them for less than an hour. If anyone discovered his true feelings on the matter, his life would be forfeit, but the Queen truly needed their advice and insight on the eastern lands, even if they did not manage to talk her out of the war. "Gentlemen," said the general, "you must know that if you refuse, you will be sent to the frontlines eventually, and instead of just advising her Majesty, you will either fight your fellow countrymen or die for refusing. You can do all of us a great service by ending this conflict before it begins. I have also placed my life on the line in telling you what I have; I am loyal to my Queen, and the only reason I speak so is that I do not think this war is in the best interests of her or Westria."

Tristan decided to risk everything, just as the general had, said he, "sir, we are members of the Brethren and have been sent across the mountains to discover what great evil is stirring in the west. This war of yours must be the great evil we have been warned about, and I fear there are darker forces at work here. It is our duty to discover who or what is fomenting discord and put a stop to it, we will do everything in our power to assist you in stopping this war."

The general was speechless for a long moment and said, "the Brethren? I have heard of you. Several years ago, two of them crossed the mountains and appeared in our land. They spoke many words of wisdom, the people were much encouraged by what they heard. The Queen allowed them to travel about and speak as they wished, and even had them brought before the court on several occasions to share their knowledge and insight. When Visca rose to power, becoming second only to the Queen in authority, he had them arrested for traitorous talk and arousing discontent among the populous. I do not know what fate befell them after that, but I believe you are honorable men and I will do what I can to assist you. I am curious however, Rolf said a military uniform was found amongst your belongings, to what unit did you belong?"

Tristan exchanged glances with Pallin and began, "it is a long story sir, but the short version is this. Before my assignment to cross the mountains and find the evil lurking in your country, I was assigned by the Lady to join the Order of the Unicorn and ferret out what they were up to. The Order is a paramilitary unit that holds allegiance to itself alone, for centuries, they have been a bother and a pest to the Brethren and everyone else. The Lady wanted to know what they were up to and I was chosen to find out. That is the uniform they found amongst my baggage; I do not know why I was to bring it, but I felt that I should."

The general smiled eagerly as a sudden idea crossed his mind, "this Order of the Unicorn is well known to us, in fact they are the 'contacts' I was speaking of earlier. It is through this group the Queen, or more correctly Visca, hopes to ease our transition into ruling all the lands between the eastern and western seas." Tristan nodded in comprehension, it fit perfectly with the Order's plans to take control of the known world. How else could Westria hope to conquer and control so much territory without some sort of local control in place? It was still insane, but it made a bit more sense.

"What are you plotting, if I may ask?" queried Tristan.

"You will see very soon," said the general in anticipation. They sat up talking long into the night.

Tristan was not sure he liked this plan, but then he had not enjoyed much of this adventure since they crossed the mountains either. Once again, he found himself in the full uniform of the Order, apparently even nearly dying in it could not separate him from the cursed thing. He was to present himself to her Majesty as an envoy from the Order, sent to advise the Queen on current happenings east of the mountains, Pallin was to be his faithful squire; the Queen was delighted to have such knowledge and experience close to hand.

That morning they found themselves in her breakfast parlor with General Trent making the introductions. "I am very happy to see you, Captain," said the Queen to Tristan, "it has been long since we had any word from our allies beyond the mountains. How go the plans for the war?"

"My Lady," said Tristan, "I am a mere captain and was never told more than I absolutely had to know. But may it cheer your heart to know that the Order is recruiting heavily and plans to greatly expand its current influence over the next several years."

"Several years?" asked the Queen in dismay, "I had hoped things were moving much more swiftly than that!"

"Your Majesty, if things were to move more quickly, people might become suspicious and take a closer look at the Order, only to discover what we are trying to hide. Progress must be made gradually, so as not to arouse suspicion, not to mention that it takes time and significant resources to mount such an effort; the Order can only move forward so fast with the resources it currently has available."

"You may not know all the details Captain, but your answers are well thought out and informed," said she. Tristan bowed in acknowledgement. "Perhaps you came in the nick of time," she glanced at the old soldier, "General Trent, what is the current status of the army and the country?"

"My Lady," he said, "the army is growing daily, but the country suffers under the loss of so many able-bodied men; I fear we must either strike swiftly or our economy will collapse."

The Queen looked gravely at her general, "are there no other options?"

"We could return the men to their shops and fields, postpone the war until our allies in the east are ready," he replied.

"I had no idea our timetable was so skewed," mused she, "Captain, your counsel is not what I had hoped but perhaps it has averted disaster. General, you will write orders to all your commanders, the new recruits are to be allowed to return home, but they must remain on alert to move out at a moment's notice. The regular soldiers are to be dispersed throughout the country and assigned areas in which they will oversee the continued training and supply of the reserves."

"It will be done at once your Majesty," the General bowed and left the room at a run. Tristan wondered at the ease with which he had at least postponed the war.

"Lord Visca," announced a servant, as a tall, sinister man, robed all in black, entered the room. The Queen seemed entranced by his very presence. He approached her, bowed, and kissed her proffered hand. He scowled at Tristan and Pallin.

"My Lady," he began, "who are these intruders that dare disturb your meal?"

The Queen mechanically replied, "they come from east of the mountains and are here to counsel me in foreign matters."

"And what have they told you?" demanded he.

She replied, "that the Order will not be ready to carry out their part of the plan for what may be years."

"And what is your response?" snarled the man.

"Our country is on the brink of ruin, I have sent the farmers home, but have arranged matters so that they can be recalled and deployed at once," said she, like one in a trance.

"I see," said the man irritably, "it was probably done for the best, your Highness, but next time, may I advise you to seek my counsel before making such an important decision?" She nodded like a contrite child; Tristan thought she might cry. Visca turned his attention to Tristan, "I would advise you to speak to me on all such matters before bothering her Majesty with such trifling details, they weary her excessively and I will pass on anything she needs to know."

"I understand sir," said Tristan. Visca seemed to float out of the room and they were left alone with the Queen. The Queen started awake, as if she had caught herself daydreaming.

"Visca is my greatest advisor," said the Queen, "though every time we meet, he always leaves me weary; I thank you for your advice, but now I must rest. Good day." They bowed themselves out of the room and a servant escorted them back to their quarters.

After Visca left the Queen, he went straight to his own chambers in the shadowy depths of the castle. This sudden change of plans was regrettable but nothing serious; he would have things moving again in no time. His masters would not be pleased, but that could not be helped at the moment. He did not like this new advisor to the Queen. How did one so new to Westria have such influence so soon? After all his work, the last thing he needed was interference from these outlanders! He had specifically told the Order not to send an envoy, he wanted to be the Queen's only source of foreign intelligence. The man's uniform was real and so was his knowledge of current affairs within the Order, but there was still something he did not trust about him. If he had this much influence over the Queen and had only known her for half an hour, he could become a real problem. The Order had been told to keep out of this; it was their own fault if they lost one of their agents. He entered his chambers with these thoughts coursing through his head.

The room was dark, lit only by a guttering candle. "The Queen's new advisor needs to disappear. See to it," Visca said to the darkness. There was movement in the far corner of the room, a shadow ghosted by the candle, the door opened briefly, leaving Visca alone. With that nuisance out of the way, he turned his attention to the sudden change in his plans for war and what to do about it.

Tristan and Pallin returned to their rooms briefly to discuss what had passed during their first audience with the Queen, said Tristan, "she seems an intelligent woman, she heard our advice and acted wisely. I just do not understand where this crazy idea to conquer the world comes from? Westria is far from strong enough to conquer so much territory, even with the help of the Order. It would be chaos!"

"She certainly changed when that Visca character came into the room," observed Pallin.

"Yes," said Tristan thoughtfully, "the man radiates evil like heat off a stove. There has to be more to him than we have heard; he certainly thinks he runs things around here. No ruler in her right mind would allow her advisors to speak to her as the Queen did today, she should have the man's head on a pike! There is some evil at work here, but I do not know how to prove or stop it." They talked for some time as to how to handle Lord Visca but could come up with nothing useful. A knock on the door ended their conference, a servant summoned them to attend the Queen. They followed the man out of the room and he led them silently on a long and winding path through the castle. Once they were thoroughly lost and seemed to be in a part of the castle no one had dusted in about a century, Tristan asked, "are you lost?"

"No," said the servant blandly, failing to hide a malicious smile, "but you are." He dashed off and disappeared into the darkness, there were very few lamps and no windows in that part of the castle.

Tristan and Pallin exchanged a startled look and turned silently to retrace their steps. As they turned, each felt the darkness grow heavier and an oppressive weight seized their hearts. Other men might have fled or fell on their faces in fear, but they drew their swords, ready to face the nightmare that approached.

"You do not cower before me?" asked a scratchy voice. "At last a worthy foe!" it hissed in pleasure. Their opponent seemed to be a darker part of the blackness about them, it was about the size of a tall man, but that was the only impression they could get, unable to define its shape or any other feature in the gloom. Tristan caught the flicker of light on steel as the thing raised its weapon, they set themselves for its first attack. It lunged, Tristan dodged and blocked its blade, as Pallin cut in and drove it back. It hissed either in frustration or delight, no one was sure which, as it plunged in again. The thing was a good swordsman, but no match for two equally good men unaffected by the aura of fear it projected. It had overestimated its ability and underestimated theirs, all was soon over, their foe lay prone on the stony floor.

Tristan used his sword to move the black hood off its face. The thing was a man at least, though draped all in shapeless black cloth that blended perfectly into the darkness. He no longer radiated fear, the aura of terror had disappeared as soon as the fiend fell, fatally struck. A rent in the man's sleeve revealed a dark mark upon one shoulder, Tristan expanded the tear to expose a snarling, black reptilian head tattooed on the man's left shoulder. Neither man knew if it had any significance, but before they could explore further, the man dissolved into an oily, smoking stain on the floor. Tristan pulled back in disgust and ordered Pallin to immediately clean his blade, as he did the same. Both trotted quickly away from the macabre scene, in search of General Trent.

Eventually they found General Trent's chambers and thankfully, he was within. He listened in fascinated horror as they described their encounter with Visca and the assassin. Trent said, "the Queen was much more herself today than I have seen her in a long while. I was greatly encouraged by her change in attitude and her swift decision to at least postpone this war. But your description of her behavior in Visca's presence sounds more like her usual demeanor of late. I wonder if she has not fallen afoul of some vile spell of Visca's making?" Tristan and Pallin nodded, it was the only theory that seemed to fit the facts. Trent continued, "you have certainly drawn the attention of someone and we need not guess who. I wonder if this is not the same way several of the Queen's previous advisers disappeared? I know nothing of this man or his tattoo, but Visca is certainly involved in far deeper evils than I ever imagined, but how do we prove it and remove his influence from the Queen?"

"You said the Queen was much more herself in our presence than she has been for some time?" asked Tristan.

"Yes," said Trent, "most of the time she seems almost asleep and only parrots Visca's words or answers his questions as if she was a child."

"What if there is some virtue or power in our presence that drives away Visca's influence, at least when he is not present?" asked Tristan.

"I do not understand," said Trent.

"When someone takes the Oath to become one of the Brethren, they are imbued with certain gifts, one of which seems to be a certain resistance to the influence of evil, such as we experienced with the assassin. What if we could somehow amplify that effect?" asked Tristan. "General," he continued at the man's look of utter puzzlement, "would you let us bring a horse into the castle?" The general stared at Tristan as if he had gone mad.

### 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, 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 reveal 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 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. 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, garbed 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 while 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 the others talked, Pallin opened the door and beckoned the stallion inside. The unicorn pulled loose the poorly tied rope and quickly followed Pallin inside and up the stairs. Pallin shut him in the little room, told him to be patient. and resumed his trash hauling; Tristan and the general spent another fifteen minutes in small talk 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, and smiled at them as they entered and took their seats facing her. Lord Visca came in shortly thereafter, he seemed surprised when he saw Tristan and Pallin alive, but 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, squirmed constantly in his chair, 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.

Began her Majesty, "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 heed my own counsel," said she, "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 assent. "This man has had some sort of evil thrall over you and 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, 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 nice and neat. 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 rot 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.

"Bah!" screamed Visca, as he ran for the door into the servant's alcove. His yell of astonishment was drowned out by the equine scream of battle that erupted from the small room. He had not expected to find a unicorn in the castle, but he recovered himself quickly, 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 jumping on Taragon's back, they 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 emerged from the forest and was running to meet Visca in his headlong flight, its terrible teeth glittered in the night. The creature 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 as they cautiously 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, 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. As the crystal shattered, 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 froze in terror. 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 or 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, it 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 to find everyone had resumed some semblance of calm, along with their chairs. He told of the chase, the strange creature, and the ensuing fight. Some hardly believed him, until they glanced out the window to see 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 make a search of the dungeons, as the rest of the small party went into the late 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 that he was not particularly fond of dusting, but 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 within had vanished.

"The servant!" cried Tristan in comprehension, "I had forgotten about the servant that led us into the bowels of the castle for an ambush. He must have been in league with Visca and the assassin. When he discovered what we were up to, he sacked Visca's quarters and fled." The Queen dispatched the remaining two lords to fetch the guards and to alert the gate guards, 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 joyously embraced his filthy Brothers, who 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. The former prisoners were soon cleaned up, shaven, and dressed in something better than their prison rags. Tristan updated them on happenings in the world since they had disappeared two years prior. 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 bedraggled 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, placing their only clue in a sack to take along. 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.

All finally went to bed to find what sleep they could, especially Tristan and Pallin, for they planned to get an early start, but first Tristan had a question for the Queen, "your Majesty, have you any dragons in this land?"

The Queen gave him a puzzled 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, providing 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, and 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 knowledge 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. At last, 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 who 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 came to ask his advice on a rather important matter."

"Ah!, 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 ready and stood patiently waiting for the strange old man. Shortly, he came riding up astride a scruffy donkey 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, 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 in good-natured ire.

"I was in the middle of such a nice long nap," sighed 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 smiled grimly, 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?" asked he 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. His associate later tried to flee aback a similar bipedal, black reptile, which was wearing this," Tristan showed the dragon the breastcollar, as he continued, "when the crystal broke, it seemed to go wild, attacking its master and fleeing. 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 came the sound of digging and of large objects being moved, but eventually 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 place," 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 return and tell me the tale." Tristan bowed in thanks; the dragon smiled broadly. He liked being helpful, almost as much as he enjoyed napping. "Now if you will excuse me, I have important business to attend to," said he, quickly slithering back into his cave and resuming 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," grinned Tristan. They thanked the old man for his services and parted ways. The old man returned to town while 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, save for being a little musty, it was in excellent shape. According to Henrophilus, 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 swore 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, and through their arcane arts, they were able to tame 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 mentioned 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 with all speed 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, told them she must think on these matters, and would 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 had 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 possible, 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, as 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 considerations 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," mused Bristol.

"Why not join them?" asked Tristan.

"I am a sworn member of the Order," replied Bristol, "I cannot go back on my oath!"

"No one said you had to," grinned 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. 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 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 marvelously, and there were even a few others interested in 'joining.' Tristan wondered what effect sending some of these promising youths 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 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 the task 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 or declaring war on the upstart country. They did not like having the laws of a country override their own, feeling themselves subject to no one but themselves, which Tristan felt was their greatest weakness, for everyone must be subject to some higher standard lest tyranny erupt.

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 have adventures of their own, 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 come 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 about the presence of this sinister group, asking 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, but she would send the five 'garrison' lads back to the Order with him. 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 with the Order 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 distinguish one of the Brethren from anyone else, although it seemed the Brethren could feel a certain evil aura 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 thought 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 Panmycea, 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 growing 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, gladly welcoming 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 and his former companions a fond farewell as they mounted up and rode away.

### Chapter 12

It was bittersweet to be reunited with the men he had been training the night of the 'incident,' and quite strange to think that less than a year ago these boys had been parasitizing a village and perhaps planning greater crimes. But here they were, off to infiltrate one of the strongest military forces in the world; life often turns in directions one never expects, but that is what keeps it from ever getting dull. His life was certainly exciting enough for anyone, Taragon's snort implied that that was an understatement, he smiled ruefully, sometimes it was exasperating having a mount that could think for himself, not to mention sense his thoughts and feelings! Tristan wondered how the other unicorns would take their undercover duty, but most seemed intrigued by the idea. One had insisted that she appear as a swaybacked mule, until her rider pointed out that she would be thought an unsuitable mount for a soldier and sent to pull cartloads of stone at the nearest quarry; she had quickly changed her appearance to something far more suitable.

They stopped at the inn in Waymeet that first night, but it had not changed at all. The innkeeper did not recognize Tristan, not surprising when there had been a hundred other men about the place the last time he was there. He was more than happy to serve six upstanding gentlemen like themselves, even if they did wear Order uniforms; he was sure to be very happy when they settled their bill come morning. Their uniforms reminded him of that brouhaha last fall when all those men had gathered hoping to join the Order; he regaled them with stories of how well the local lads had done and the grand things they must be doing in the world, but he himself was happy to remain the ever-exalted innkeeper of Waymeet, especially since his ale was the best in the whole world, at least according to some Lord or Knight or other. They could not ignore such a hint and kindly sampled his mediocre brew. He beamed with delight at their comments of, "it has been long since I tasted such a flavor," and "I cannot find words to describe it." The man's pride was satisfied without anyone having to have told a lie. It was a delicate moment.

In the morning, they set off for Panmycea, arriving without incident. The boys gawked about them at the city and the immensity of the Citadel, many having never seen anything grander than the humble castle of Astoria. One of the gate guards saluted more enthusiastically than necessary, Tristan smiled and returned the salute, recognizing Brenner, one of the men from his original unit; it was good to see a familiar face. Although he had visited previously, the Citadel was anything but a familiar and welcome sight, the whole thing reeked of power and greed; he missed the more comfortable amiability felt in Astoria, and that was one thing he hoped to change, whatever else he accomplished on this vaguest of missions. They rode up to the Citadel, where Tristan presented his orders while a servant was sent to find whoever was expecting them, half an hour passed before a man in a Colonel's uniform approached.

It was Karly! "Good day, gentlemen," said he, "I hope your journey was uneventful?" They nodded, as the beer tasting had been the most exciting incident on the journey. "Good," he continued, "please follow me." They dismounted, handed their reins to the assembled grooms, and followed the Colonel deep into the castle. "Your men will be billeted here," said Karly, pointing to a door along one wall. "Tomorrow," he continued, "they will be drilled in what they know and then appointed a post suiting their talents. I suggest your lads get some rest, for tomorrow will be a busy day." They bowed goodnight to the two officers.

Karly and Tristan continued to the colonel's chambers, where they could speak privately. "You have had some adventures since last we met," began Karly.

"Yes sir," said Tristan.

"You are fully confident in your abilities and are ready to reenlist?" asked Karly.

"Yes sir, I would not have come back if I was not sure I was ready," nodded Tristan.

"Good," said Karly, "you have done a superb job in Astoria, the High Council is pleased. We were very sorry to hear of your encounter with Brisbane, but you have suffered no lasting effects?"

"Only emotional strain sir, and that has passed," grimaced Tristan.

"If your men are as skilled as we suspect they are, most of them will be assigned to lead a training unit after the next recruiting session," said Karly.

"That would suit them well sir," said Tristan with a proud smile, "they have been restless to do something 'productive' of late." They both laughed at such youthful enthusiasm and ignorance, eventually they would learn to appreciate a warm bed and hot meal after a dearth of both while on campaign.

"We have a special mission for you," said Karly. Tristan listened intently as Karly continued, "I, and several other high-ranking officers, fear there is an evil influence lurking behind the fair façade of the Order. Men like Brisbane are becoming all too common, and regrettably the results are often deadly. Rage and anger are allowed to show where once they were under strict control. Patrols in the field are taking far too much advantage of the locals, some glory seeking is expected in an organization such as this, but it has become the rule rather than the exception. A patrol will ride into a village and expect to be given whatever they want, including time alone with some of the young women. Our military precision is breaking down and our reputation has become black, where once it was only tarnished. Part of it is our intense recruiting efforts: we just do not have the number and quality of officers needed to control such a mass of raw recruits. But there is more than a simple lack of discipline to blame. I have seen the men you trained and there is something fundamentally different about them; they care about others and do not expect the world to be handed to them on a platter. If half our men were like that, this organization could change the world, but as it is, we may soon find ourselves the targets of every peasant and king we have scorned. Unless things change drastically, the Order will soon implode and who knows what will emerge from the wreckage? Your job is to ferret out where this lackadaisical and sinister attitude comes from and stop it." Tristan stared at him as if he had asked him to climb a tall tree and catch the sun in a butterfly net.

"I know it seems an impossible task," smiled Karl grimly, "we cannot even nail down this 'feeling' or whatever it is some of us have. We are sending you out hunting an enemy and we are not even sure it exists. It is a feeling of evil and disdain that hums in the background of everything the Order does. Some among the High Council are concerned enough to talk to others of like mind in private, but no one dares bring it before the Master of the Council, he seems oblivious to the problem. All I can tell you is that these are disturbing times within the Order and without. Your mission must remain secret, you may report to me or to Captain Frey. Your official position will be as my Secretary, which means you may go wherever you like and do whatever you want, as long as others believe it is on my orders. I am entrusting you with much Captain, but you have proven yourself capable and you are the only man I can fully trust."

Tristan left Karly's chambers that night very confused; he had no idea where he was even supposed to begin. It was heartening that the Order was beginning to realize how far it had strayed from its own inexact standards of order and discipline and was trying to do something about it, even if only in secret. It was strange how his mission from the Lady and Karly correlated so well, but then, evil was stirring everywhere and no sensible person would want it to continue unabated within their sphere of influence. Tristan retired to his quarters but slept little that night, as his mind constantly darted after unseen enemies just beyond sight.

The next morning, he was summoned to Captain Frey for a briefing. Frey was an older man but there was wisdom and humor written in his lined face. "Greetings Captain," said Frey, "you have been briefed by Colonel Karly?"

"Yes sir," said Tristan, "though this seems all very vague and ill defined."

"That is the crux of the issue," said Frey gravely, "we are sending you out to catch the monsters under the bed and we are not even sure there are any. It could simply be a bunch of old campaigners starting to jump at shadows and mice, but too many of us have felt...well, wrong about recent events within the Order. The colonel speaks highly of you and thinks you are the only one we can trust with this delicate mission. The rest of us have too much influence and power within the Order, people will notice if we start acting unusual, but you already have a reputation for being a bit odd, though very effective. You may be able to pull this off where we cannot. If we need to supply you with men, equipment, or information, please do not hesitate to ask and the minute you learn something, report it directly to us. Do not send a pigeon and hope the message gets to us unseen by the wrong people. Understood?"

"Yes sir," said Tristan, "do you have any suggestions as to where or how to begin this venture?"

"Actually, I can help you with that at least, but after that you are on your own," said Frey, "there is a patrol that rides a circuit in the Southern Kingdoms. They have a terrible reputation and something needs to be done about them. You may find further leads from them, but be careful, I fear they have a spirit similar to that of Brisbane."

"Do I have the authority to deal with a patrol?" asked Tristan.

"As Karly's secretary you do, but use that power with discretion, because you will be held accountable for everything you do in his name," cautioned Frey.

"I understand sir," said Tristan.

"Good," said Frey, "now remember to keep this matter secret or all of our heads are forfeit."

Tristan stayed just long enough in Panmycea to say farewell to his men, all were assigned to lead training units in the Northern Wilds; they were well trained and ready to go, but it was still hard to part from them. At least he would soon ride out to locate this renegade patrol and bring them to heel, it was a welcome distraction! He did wish to face six Brisbane-like men alone, so he went looking for reinforcements, he tapped Brenner and Derkly to accompany him, both had been part of his original training unit and were currently assigned as guards of the Citadel. Karly approved the choice and made sure they had the supplies they would need, along with a written order that Tristan had the authority to deal with the patrol as he saw fit; they set out immediately for the Southern Kingdoms.

The Southern Kingdoms were some of the largest and most prosperous in the known world. The climate was mild and friendly to a variety of crops and the seas were full of fish. Well over half the world's population lived in the six Southern Kingdoms, where trade, education, and the arts flourished; it was the center of human culture and initiative. Tristan had not visited those pleasant lands in many years, and even with his strange mission, he looked forward to seeing them again. His men were delighted to ride off with their old leader, especially as they were getting tired of nothing but guard duty, day in and day out. The first few days of their trip were pure joy, as they talked of old times and enjoyed the fine weather of early autumn. As they traveled south, the weather grew wetter while the attitudes of the people they met towards the Order soured, dampening their own delight in a journey the pair of neophyte adventurers hoped would be merely a lark.

According to Tristan's map of the patrol circuit, they should reach one of the patrol's main stopping places in about a week's riding from their current position. Their quarry could be anywhere along the patrol route, instead of chasing them down, Tristan meant to wait for them to come to him at one of their better-known haunts. To keep his identity and authority a secret until he had observed these men in person, they switched out of their uniforms and put on plain clothes for the remainder of the journey, which at least made them more acceptable company to the people they encountered in their travels.

They finally arrived at The Thistle, an old and comfortable inn at the crossroads of the main thoroughfares running north to south and east to west. For such a prosperous inn at the junction of two well-traveled roads, it seemed very empty. The innkeeper explained, "not to dissuade you gentlemen from staying, but every couple of weeks my poor Thistle becomes the gathering place for a legion of those nefarious men of the Order." Tristan knew the poor woman meant well but he doubted an entire legion of men rode on this single patrol, but he was glad that they remained safely anonymous, at least for now.

"How long until they return?" asked Tristan.

"They should be here within the week," said the woman dispiritedly.

They took rooms and waited. The plan was to let the patrol come in unhindered, watch their behavior that evening, and then confront them on it very early the next morning. The poor woman said they stayed a day or two before moving on, they never paid their bill, and drove away most of her customers with their behavior, nor did she let her serving girls work when the patrol was due. Six days later the patrol arrived.

Tristan and his men stationed themselves in an out of the way corner that allowed them a view of the whole room. Most of the locals excused themselves for the evening, leaving Tristan's group, the patrol, and one table of seedy looking men alone in the common room. The innkeeper and two boys worked feverishly to meet the demands of the patrol alone. Tristan did not even try to get a refill of ale, while the seedy men seemed content with their drinks, or perhaps did not dare to order more. Eventually the patrol was satisfied with their meal, and after a comfortable amount of time for digestion, began to glance around the room in hopes of entertainment. Besides for the innkeeper, there were no women present, but the lady of the house was too old and careworn to be of much interest to any of the drunken soldiers. They had to content themselves with a less interesting form of amusement. The table of seedy looking fellows had wandered off as soon as it became apparent the patrol was finishing their meal, which left only Tristan and his two companions to offer relief from the boredom and toil of patrol duty.

"Good day to you gentlemen," said one lanky man, as he waddled over looking for trouble, "I see you have taken a fancy to our inn, and as such I think you owe us a song at the least."

"Perhaps a little dance too!" added a short, smirking fellow.

"Shall we have a contest to see who the best dancer is?" asked another man. Cheers erupted all around.

"Dancing and singing it shall be then," announced the lanky man, "and you had best do a good job, else we may have to do things you will regret." Bets were placed as to which of the three would do the best, and worst, job; their captain would act as judge. A large, heavy table was rolled out into the middle of the room and one by one, each of the three men was made to stand up and sing and dance to the best of his ability. Tristan had good reflexes but a very poor voice. Brenner could sing very well but could not dance to save his life, which might very well be the case in this mad contest. Derkly excelled at neither singing nor dancing; Tristan grimaced, wondering if their lack of musical talent could truly be the end of three such warriors. The patrol was not impressed with anyone's performance, refraining from another round in favor of several hours of singing on Brenner's part. Brenner was hoarse by the end of the evening, but it was a small price to pay for their lives.

During the whole debacle, the innkeeper kept the wine flowing, ensuring each member of the patrol was so drunk by the end of the evening that they had to be quite literally carried to bed by Tristan and his men. While it had been a humiliating evening all the way around, no one had been hurt, but if this was a quiet night for the renegades, Tristan cringed at what a wild night looked like. He wondered at the innkeeper's ability to persevere under such abuse but the inn had been in her family for years, she would not let it go if she could help it. Tristan quietly paid for the patrol's supper out of the money provided by the colonel, he only wished he could give her more for previous meals and damages, but that was all he had. She thanked him profusely for his kindness, it was the first ray of sunshine to pierce her grey world in a very long time.

Tristan and his men retired to their room, snatching what sleep they could before daybreak. Each man donned his uniform, put on his sword, they had not dared wear them downstairs last evening lest the scoundrels consider dueling a proper form of entertainment, and prepared themselves to roust the drunken patrol from their beds. Having put each man to bed the previous night, Tristan and his men knew exactly which men were sleeping where. Very loudly, Tristan banged on the door of the room containing the captain.

"Go way," moaned a groggy voice. He must have a terrible hangover, as Tristan had asked the innkeeper to make sure the wine was extra strong last night and the Captain was quite happy to indulge himself thus.

"Open up," bellowed Tristan.

"Go way before I hurt you," growled the miserable man.

"Open in the name of the Order," yelled Tristan. He heard whimpering on the other side of the door, apparently the occupant was not currently fond of loud noises. Using a spare key, he unlocked the door and charged inside. The poor man huddled in a heap on the end of the bed in his underclothes, shielding his ears with a pillow. Brenner ran over and opened the shutters, allowing the new risen sun to shine merrily in on the pathetic wretch. "On your feet man," growled Tristan, "I was sent to inspect this unit by Colonel Karly; you and your men are a disgrace to the Order."

Things were slowly starting to click in the captain's head, he jumped off the bed in a fury, "what authority do you have over me?" Tristan quietly proffered his orders and watched the man's face fall in dismay as he read them, but an evil light twinkled in his eyes. Tristan could almost read his mind, as he planned to do away with this would-be inspector.

"You are hereby relieved of duty, and as of now I am taking over command of this disgraceful outfit," said Tristan, "you will be detained in an appropriate facility until I can contact headquarters and they decide what to do with you." The man looked bleakly at Tristan, as Brenner and Derkly led him quietly away. The innkeeper knew of an appropriate spot to house the derelict captain until further notice. The men were completely unaware of what had befallen their leader, until Tristan was so very unkind as to rouse them from their beds so early after such a long night. He made them pack their things and assemble outside immediately. They were not happy at the change in leadership, but there was little they could do about it short of mutiny and none were stupid enough to try that.

Tristan was a strict taskmaster, who didn't allow any drinking, gambling, carousing, or other amusements for the erring patrol. They were expected to do their assigned camp chores, stand watch, and ride patrol with absolutely no complaining or distractions. It took them a couple days before they realized they gained nothing with their constant whining, except more chores. Tristan led them on their assigned patrol route, hoping by the time they circled back to the inn they would be a much more manageable bunch. After a week of constant but fair oversight, Tristan began to see changes. They no longer expected someone else to do everything for them, they were much more polite interacting with others, and they began to behave more like men and less like brutes.

Once someone expected something of them and they could not get away with doing otherwise, they began to live up to those expectations; Tristan smiled broadly, there was hope for them after all. Once they returned to the inn, they left Derkly in charge of the patrol, while Tristan and Brenner took the dissolute captain back to Panmycea for questioning. After a two-week imprisonment alone inside an old fortress, the captain was more than willing to come out, even if it meant accompanying the two usurpers. Tristan did not look forward to traveling with Captain Yates but he had no choice, he was the only lead Tristan had in furthering his investigation into the chaos that was assaulting the Order. Was it just poor oversight and bad leadership or was there something more sinister behind it?

On the journey home, Yates was at first unwilling to talk to anyone, but after two weeks with no one to talk to, he finally realized how desperate he was for human company. "How could you allow such behavior in your men?" asked Tristan, one night as they sat beside the fire.

"I thought we were allowed to do as we pleased," said the man.

"Where did you get that idea?" asked Tristan.

"Some of the higher-ups did not think it a bad thing," said Yates, "they said it encouraged morale in the men."

"It certainly encouraged something," said Tristan, "which officers approved such behavior?"

"Nobody approved it," said Yates, "they just sort of overlooked it." That was something at least. Some of this was due, at least in part, to a lack of supervision and leadership over the far-flung members of the Order. At least that could be fixed if the Order was willing to discipline men who sorely abused the rights of others. Yates seemed resigned to his fate and cooperated fully, but shed no more light on his connections, or lack thereof, to some sinister plot within the Order. Tristan returned to Panmycea with the despondent Yates and gave a full report of his adventures in the south. The colonel approved of the change in leadership of the patrol and said he would see to reprimanding Yates. As for promoting more responsibility and less wanton behavior in the field units, Karly could only shrug and say they were working on it. Since he had found no further leads to follow and had proved adept at making recalcitrant units see the light, Tristan found himself dispatched all over the countryside disciplining or replacing unit leaders. After several months of such legwork, word seemed to be getting around that such behavior would no longer be tolerated and the behavior of the field units as a whole became much more tolerable. There were still a few units that dared Karly's wrath but on the whole, things were greatly improved.

### Chapter 13

Not everyone was pleased with this change in behavior, there were factions within the Order that benefited from the chaos and violence perpetuated in the field. These individuals saw Karly's interference as a nuisance and hoped to quietly dispose of Tristan, with Tristan out of the way, Karly's hands would be neatly tied, and perhaps he would cease meddling before more drastic measures were needed. Getting rid of the colonel would be the most expedient means of eliminating the problem, but that might raise questions certain persons would rather not have asked. They bided their time, waiting for the opportune moment to dispose of this menace to their plans, and quite obligingly, though unwittingly, he gave them their chance. Tristan was assigned to track down and reprimand another renegade unit, this one stationed in a city on the edge of the western mountains.

Westhope was an independent city with no attachment to any particular nation or ruler, serving primarily as an outpost of civilization and a stopping point along the trade route from Westria to the east. The countryside consisted of vast, rolling grasslands, the primary occupation was grazing sheep or cattle; there was also a good deal of mining in that part of the world. Westhope provided supplies and services to the merchants, shepherds, and miners that moved about the western wilderness. Tristan was sent to root out ten knights of the Order who were demanding tribute from the nearby city in exchange for 'protection' from themselves; they were holed up in a small fortress just outside the city, and thought their retreat impregnable. Knowing this nut would be hard to crack, Tristan rounded up seven reliable men from the Citadel before heading west.

They arrived without incident, and hoping to keep it that way, Tristan had his men change into plain clothes, arriving quietly throughout the day in groups of two or three at a large inn on the edge of the city; there they were to wait for Tristan and Brenner to arrive. Tristan and Brenner spent the better part of the day wandering the streets of Westhope, talking to the locals, and observing the fortress from a safe distance. It would be suicide to demand official entry with so small a force, the rogues would simply close the gate and laugh or have the archers try their luck. It would be just as silly to try scaling the walls by night, at least with so few men, it was not the most well-defended fortress that Tristan had ever seen but its defenses were enough to rout his small army. The renegades came to town in groups of five while five were left to mind the fort. Tristan thought about nabbing the five as they went abroad, but figured the rest would just hole up inside the fortress, abandoning their comrades to their doom. He had to find a way to get into the fortress himself or get all the rebels to come out.

That evening, they sat quietly in the common room of their chosen inn in a group of three and a group of five. Brenner talked with their other tablemate while Tristan brooded over the fortress and what to do about it; the other five talked quietly amongst themselves. Tristan's thoughts were interrupted by raucous cheering, whistling, and foot stomping suddenly erupting among some of the other patrons, someone was going to play or sing for the gathered crowd. The woman played some sort of stringed instrument, music had never been Tristan's strong point so he didn't know exactly what it was called, but she sang a beautiful, sad song about a kingdom that had vanished long ago. Such a performance wasn't the sort of raucous singing one usually heard in a common room, it was similar to what one heard from the bards and minstrels who frequented the courts of the rich and powerful. Most songs in such a place were about food, drink, women, war, or traveling, one rarely heard historical fact put to music.

He took a second, closer look at the woman, chiding himself for not paying more attention. He should have known! Who but one of the Brethren would sing an historical ballad in a common room full of peasants? Some of the Teaching sect preferred music to stories, and there were a number of very talented bards among them. The woman finished her song and began another, the audience bewitched by her voice. If one had to learn history, this was a rather pleasant way to go about it. Even his men seemed to be enjoying the lesson, or perhaps they just enjoyed looking at the singer, for she was quite striking. She sang most of the evening about love lost and found, wars won and kingdoms lost, the struggles of humanity, and stories of the Master. Overall, it was a splendid way to pass the evening. She retired to her room and did not mingle much with her appreciative audience. Tristan chuckled quietly as his men seemed to start awake, as if out of a pleasant dream, he sent them to bed with a knowing smile.

The next day was spent questioning townspeople about the Order, the fortress, and the surrounding area. The locals held the Order in much disfavor, especially since they started demanding tribute. When five of them emerged at a time, they descended on a local inn, demanded the best food, wine, and service, and never paid for anything; the younger women were summarily hustled out of the room lest they attract unwanted attention. No one but the knights ever came in or out of the fortress, except twice a month when the tribute wagons rolled in. Tristan also asked about the mysterious singer at their inn, people said she was quite popular as an entertainer and teacher even though she had just arrived a few days prior. All the inns had requested her to come sing of an evening, whichever inn she visited never had an empty seat and few dry eyes.

That afternoon, Tristan went over his plans with his men; they thought it a grand idea but it would be a few days before they could implement it. They came early to supper, taking their accustomed places, as the singer was to perform again that night, thus the common room would rapidly fill with people. Just as she was taking out her instrument to begin playing for the packed crowd, the door burst open and in traipsed five of the seediest looking soldiers Tristan had ever seen. Their uniforms were wrinkled and dirty, their noses red from a chronic overindulgence of alcohol, and every one of them had not shaved or bathed in at least a week. Without so much as asking, they tossed several men out of their chairs, commandeering a table near the singer's platform. She looked at them in disgust, but said nothing and began her song. The innkeeper quickly saw them provisioned with the best she had in the kitchen, they seemed content, at least for the present.

After they had eaten and drunk their fill, one yelled at the singer, "why all these slow, tedious songs? We want something exciting!"

"Yeah!" yelled several equally drunk knights.

She began a lively country-dance; they cheered, grabbing any female that was handy, pushing over tables, shoving aside chairs and patrons alike, in their haste to clear space for dancing. The terrified women they had conscripted as partners screamed or wept in horror, and the singer stopped the song immediately, "this reprehensible behavior will not be tolerated! Let those poor women go and resume your seats, or there will be no more music tonight."

"Who is going to make us," laughed the apparent leader of the group, "you are gonna sing and we are gonna dance with whomever we like. Now get up there and play sweetie."

She did not move. The men looked from her to their leader in confusion, nobody disobeyed the Order! Tristan smiled, she had nerve. The men dropped their unwilling partners and drew their swords, forming a semicircle around the stage. The audience backed away, some ran for it, as the night turned ugly.

"Now love," sneered the leader, "be reasonable. You sing and I won't kill you. I might even let the lads have a little fun with you afterwards." Said men smiled in anticipation. She did not flinch, but carefully set down her instrument and drew forth a long, slightly curved sword that had been hidden amongst the folds of her gown. Five on one were still very bad odds, but it beat five swords against none. "A feisty one boys!" laughed the leader derisively, "come now lass, you are too pretty to hurt...yet." She assumed a defensive stance, prepared to go down fighting. The men approached and the sound of steel leaving the sheath rang loud in the room. The five men looked about in confusion at the unanticipated sound. Who would dare risk their wrath? Tristan and his men had their swords out, surrounding the confused knights, and even a few of the braver members of the audience joined them.

"Stand down," Tristan ordered, "put away your weapons and we will deal with this quietly. You need not be hurt."

"Who are you to command us?" spat the leader.

"Just know that I am authorized to do what I must to stop this despicable behavior," said Tristan, "I also count fifteen swords to your five, hopefully your swordsmanship is better than your counting skills."

The knights glanced glumly at the superior numbers, dropped their swords, and put their hands on their heads. Tristan motioned for one of his men to pick up the discarded weapons while the others kept the knights covered. Once the weapons were retrieved and each man's hands were secured behind his back, everyone put their swords away and a general cheer ran through the room, for they had captured half of the renegade knights! It was not exactly the plan Tristan had initially contrived, but necessity had forced his hand. He had planned to sneak into the fortress using the tribute wagons but he would have to come up with another way to capture the other five men. The prisoners were stuffed temporarily into a back closet while the common room was put back in order.

"You have no right," snapped the leader, as he was shoved into the closet, "the Order will take care of you!"

"I am sure they will," laughed Tristan.

"Have you enjoyed my singing?" asked the sweet voice of the bard, as she approached Tristan after having finished with the scoundrels.

"Exceedingly, my lady," said he, "there are few experiences I have enjoyed half so much."

"You mock me, sir," teased she.

"Certainly not!" protested Tristan at her seeming misunderstanding, raising his hands as if to defend himself, "And well you know I cannot."

She nodded in acquiescence, smiling warmly at his sincerity, as she said, "I came to thank you for intervening. I could have handled two or perhaps three, but five would have been a little hairy."

"If that be the case, you must be as skilled with the sword as you are with your music," replied Tristan, he doubted he could handle more than that himself. This time she blushed at the compliment as they took a seat together at a newly replaced table.

"You are far from Astoria," began she, not knowing quite what to say, not liking how the man discomfited her so.

"The Lady seems to like me as far away from her as possible," laughed Tristan, "she keeps sending me to the ends of the earth and when I have finished there, she sends me to the other side."

"And these men with you?" asked she.

He glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot, "they belong to the Order of the Unicorn."

She gasped, looked at him in surprise, and said, "but why associate with such men?"

He laughed, "it is a very long story but the Lady herself has bidden me hence. They are under my command and we are under orders to bring these vile dogs to heel. There are still five more locked away in the fortress and when these five do not come home as expected, the others will lock the door and never come out."

"Perhaps I can assist you?" smiled she, a strange eagerness sparkling in her eyes.

Five men walked their horses up to the gate of the fortress with a woman tied across one of the saddles. "Back a little late, are we?" asked the sentry.

"Had a bit of trouble at the inn," snapped the leader, "but I brought back a nice little songbird to entertain us."

"You know the rules," retorted the guard, "no prisoners."

"But she is not a prisoner, she is a guest," laughed the leader hollowly, "besides, we have broken enough rules, what is one more?"

"All right," growled the guard, "but it is your head and not mine if the Captain does not go for it." He opened the gate, letting the five men in. Tristan kept his sword point nestled in the small of the leader's back, he had agreed to cooperate once Tristan had identified himself and his mission, the villain did not like it but he had little choice. The two men guarding the gate were quietly knocked unconscious and dragged out of sight then two of Tristan's men took their place.

The singer was untied, save for a loose rope around her hands to make it look as if she were bound, her sword was hidden beneath her cloak. As they went in search of the captain, a guard on watch noticed the strangers walking unguarded through the keep and raised the alarm. Tristan fought him to a standstill and had him stand against the far wall with the captured leader, under the watchful eyes of the men guarding the gate. The remaining two renegades rushed out in their pajamas to defend the fortress, only to find themselves outnumbered and their colleagues under guard. They surrendered and Tristan went about the tedious business of explaining who he was and why he had come. Tristan's men retrieved the rest of the prisoners from the inn, while he had the mayor and the chief watchman roused from their beds and brought to the fortress to discern what, if any, crimes the captured knights stood accused of. There had been much posturing and threatening, some theft and unruly behavior, but no one had yet aspired to rape or murder. Tristan left his seven men in charge of the fortress with Brenner in command along with the three youngest of the captured knights. The other seven were locked up until Tristan could figure out what to do with them, but first he retired thankfully to bed.

As he slept, he felt a pall of evil envelope him and started awake. The window was open and a cold wind gusted into the room. There was no movement or sound, but he was still uneasy. Something was very wrong. His hand crept quietly under his pillow, grasping the dagger he kept there before rolling over and pretending to sleep. For half an hour, nothing stirred, but a stench of evil cloyed the room. A quiet noise, as of feet moving ever closer, ever so slowly, disturbed the silence; Tristan readied the dagger. There was a sharp intake of breath and the sound of leaping feet, as a dark shape leapt upon Tristan, blade bared. There was a brief struggle but the intruder was not expecting trouble and tried to flee. Tristan's blade flew true, catching the man in the leg, he tumbled to the ground with a scream, but before allowing himself to be captured, he thrust a dagger into his own heart, dissolving into an oily pool of goo. Tristan could only shake his head in bewilderment, would he ever find out what was going on with this Brotherhood of the Serpent? At least he knew there was more behind the Order's problems than a lack of competent leadership. There came a tentative knock at the door and Tristan had to explain the noise to the innkeeper and all who had been awakened by the man's screams.

The next day saw the townspeople out in full force to greet the men who had rescued them from the renegade soldiers. Tristan asked, and was granted, that the remaining seven be allowed to herd sheep, sweep floors, wash dishes or whatever else the townsfolk deemed proper work for the renegades. The three youngest and least belligerent were pardoned, if they promised to behave themselves under Brenner's command. The other seven would sleep at night in the fortress dungeon and work wherever they were bidden during the day. They were always to be kept under guard until the townsfolk deemed them free of their tedious punishment or word was sent by the Order with further instructions. Tristan figured six months of tedium would do much for their insubordinate attitudes.

Arora, the singer, was surprised and disappointed to hear Tristan would be heading back to Panmycea so soon, he would spend one more night at the inn, but must then return to Panmycea for further orders. He sent word via pigeon to the Lady about the assassination attempt of the previous night. "Why must you leave?" asked Arora that night over supper.

"I have a duty to the Lady and the Order to figure out what is going on," said he, "I am very sorry to leave, for I have quite enjoyed your company."

"I will go with you," proposed she.

"What!?!" gasped Tristan, "Do you not have a duty to the people here?"

"I am free to come and go at will, unlike you I am not assigned to any particular area or mission," she smiled in anticipation, "I am sure that Panmycea could stand to hear a little encouraging music."

"I am sure it could," said Tristan with a weak laugh, adding in concern, "but it is too dangerous."

"You would not say that to any of your men," replied she, a dangerous edge in her voice.

"No," admitted Tristan reluctantly, "I would not, but I say it to you because I value your friendship and I would like to think of you safely away from me."

"Nonsense," said she with a determined smile, "I am no safer without you than I am with you. The world has grown perilous in the last few years, besides, you need someone to watch your back if one of these assassins should strike again. And why not keep an eye on me directly rather than wondering if I am well?" Short of tying her up, he could not stop her, so he gave in to her demands, which made a remarkable amount of sense. And for once, he actually looked forward to the journey back to Panmycea.

### Chapter 14

They rode back a little slower than absolutely necessary, but Tristan needed the rest. While traveling and camping with a woman was very different than traveling with an all male company, the necessities of privacy and decency were strictly adhered to, but it was well worth the extra effort, for it was a joy to travel with one of his colleagues again. He didn't have to be constantly vigilant in what he said and did, fearing some small slip might destroy his disguise, and they never lacked for an intriguing topic of conversation. True, she was a musician and he an adventurer and soldier, but this gave them a plethora of novel subjects to talk about when discussing the commonalities of their shared service grew tiresome. Taragon was equally eager to have another unicorn to travel with, especially a mare. The mare tolerated him as best she could, but still had to use a few well timed kicks or nips to curb some of Taragon's enthusiasm. Unicorn courtship was a strange business and by tradition, they did not participate in such activities while in the service of the Brethren, but that did not mean he could not show his interest. They rode companionably side-by-side so they could talk at ease, or simply enjoy the company of one another.

"What will you do once we reach our destination?" asked Tristan.

"I plan to sing at whatever inns or other gathering places will have me," said she.

"Some of your lore may not be very popular among the majority of the citizenry," cautioned Tristan.

"I know this will be hostile territory and will be careful," said she mock-sternly, "you cannot lock me away in a cage to keep me safe, but I appreciate the sentiment." Tristan blushed and turned away. They were silent for a time, then Arora said, "what do you think your next task will be once we get back?"

"I fear it will be tracking down any of these Brotherhood characters on the loose within the Panmycea itself," said Tristan.

"You fear?" asked the lady.

"Order Headquarters is the last place I wish to spend any amount of time, it would be a very tedious assignment," said he.

"A man of action and not bureaucracy," said she, with an amused smile, "fascinating."

Not sure how to take that, Tristan changed the subject, "so tell me about yourself."

She gave him a very bland look for such a boring conversational topic, but asked lightly, "what is there to know of me that you do not know already?"

"Perhaps your age," suggested Tristan carefully.

"You dare ask a lady her age?" said she, a dangerous flicker in her eyes.

"Well, you do not look a day over 200," said Tristan, as seriously as he could contrive.

"200!" said she indignantly, "Why I am only 93."

"93?" laughed Tristan, "Why you are little more than a girl!"

"And how old would you be, my fine grey-beard?" asked Arora archly.

"Has no one told you it is impolite to discuss one's age?" grinned Tristan.

"As I thought," she said, "you must be nearly 300 to evade such a question."

"I am a youthful 135, thank you very much," chuckled he, "and still young enough to outrun a youngster like you." Catching his mood, Taragon took off like the wind, but Arora's mare was not to be so easily outdone. They raced through the gold-drenched evening, weaving effortlessly through rolling meadows of yellowed grasses, belly-deep on the unicorns and forest glades afire with the yellow and crimson of autumn. The evening faded from gold to blue and nearly to black before they pulled up their mounts and caught their breath after their exhilarating race.

Tristan knew of an inn nearby and they walked the unicorns in that direction. "I guess you can keep up with an old man," laughed Tristan.

"Perhaps you are not as old as I thought," grinned Arora.

"I will remember you said that," replied Tristan. Shortly they arrived at the inn, handed their mounts over to the groom, and went inside for supper. Over their meal, they continued their conversation.

"We have heard something of this Brotherhood of the Serpent from the Lady, but what do you know of it and why does it concern the Order?" asked Arora. He told her what he knew. When he had finished, she said quietly, "it is good that you have someone to watch your back." He looked at her skeptically. "You know what I mean," blushed she, "you can hardly trust most of these Order-types, but I can keep my eyes and ears open about the city and see what I can find out. And if ever you need someone to talk to or someone to do some minor task, I would be happy to oblige you."

"I would enjoy seeing you occasionally once we reach Panmycea, but I fear we must not make our acquaintance known to anyone outside the Brethren," said Tristan. She looked a bit perturbed at this news but saw the sense in it. "When we get close to town, I think it would be best if you stayed the night at a village inn nearby and ride in in the morning," continued he, "I will ride in immediately and see where my duties take me next, though I would very much like to drop in some evening and hear you sing." She smiled at this, agreeing to do as he suggested.

Much did each enjoy the company of the other as they rode, but finally, the dismal day of their parting arrived. Tristan stopped Taragon outside a small village within an hour's ride of the city. "Here we must part," he said sadly, "I hope the day comes swiftly when we meet again." He bowed from his saddle, turned Taragon, skirted the village, and flew towards the city. Arora wistfully watched him go, but hope stirred in her heart that they might meet again before long. She approached the inn and prepared for an evening of singing, though for some inexplicable reason her usual eagerness seemed rather muted on this occasion.

Tristan rode swiftly away from the small village, any slower and he feared he might turn back and not be able to part from her. His mind was a complete muddle. He had never intended to fall for a woman! There were almost nine men to each woman within the Brethren, their lives were so unpredictable, and danger lurked everywhere, that very few ever married. Although it was allowed within the Brethren, was it worth the price? His constant journeys and missions kept him occupied and gave purpose and direction to his life. He was content and never asked for more, but since meeting Arora, his life had been turned upside down. He wanted to spend every waking moment with her and he could think of little else, she fascinated him in a way nothing else had ever done. If he did not know better, he would have thought she had somehow ensorcelled him. He tried vainly to clear his mind and focus on other matters. "Women are trouble," said he to Taragon, who snorted in amused agreement.

By late afternoon, he entered the city and rode as quickly as he could through the crowded streets. Once inside the castle, he was directed immediately to the Colonel's quarters. Tristan bowed to Karly and gave a full report of his dealings with the garrison at Westhope and the shadowy assassin.

"Well," said the colonel grimly, "we have attracted someone's attention. I think this proves there is indeed more to this than too many new recruits and poor leadership. Someone is very eager to have you out of the way, and I suspect myself and captain Frey as well. Though, if we disappeared from the Citadel, it might arouse suspicions and garner inquiry into matters they would rather keep quiet. I suggest that you be very careful and not spend too much time alone for the time being. I also think that you should spend some time here, trying to find some evidence of who is behind all of this." Tristan bowed in acceptance but shuddered to think he might be stuck in the Citadel for months on end. His only hope was to figure this thing out quickly and get away from this center of intrigue and bureaucracy. The only bright prospect on an otherwise bleak horizon was the thought of slipping out and seeing Arora occasionally. The next few days he spent attending meetings and overseeing various menial tasks as Colonel Karly's Secretary, though he watched keenly for any evidence that might further his quest, he saw nothing.

Meanwhile, Arora spent the night at the inn and though the much appreciative innkeeper begged her to stay another night, she graciously declined, leaving early the next morning. She made a thorough tour of the city, glancing longingly at the Citadel that towered over everything, wondering if Tristan thought of her as much as she did of him. Drat the man! She was an independent and capable woman, he had no right to confuse her thoughts as he did. Her mission was to reach the world with her songs of history, lore, and Truth. How would attaching herself to such an adventurer affect their duty? She sighed as she entered a moderately sized inn on the edge of town, applying to the innkeeper about the possibility of singing for his guests that night. He gladly accepted her offer, hoping she was good enough to draw a crowd, as things had been a bit slow lately and he could use the business.

That evening, she took her place on the makeshift stage in one corner of the common room. A few eyes looked up hopefully, but most just stared bleakly into their mugs hoping to find some truth or purpose therein, another third-rate performer held no interest when their beverage of choice failed to reveal the meaning of life. She began with a stirring dance tune purported to be from west of the mountains, drawing every eye in the room in surprised delight. Once she had their attention came a love ballad with a stirring finale followed by an epic tale of war and much sorrow. She continued for most of the evening, drawing many passersby into the inn; the place was packed by the time she put her instrument away for the evening and the innkeeper was ecstatic. Within a few days, she had become something of a local phenomenon and the innkeepers were fighting desperately to have her frequent their establishments, but she paid no heed to their offers of money, she visited the smallest inn as frequently as the grandest. Sometimes, when the weather was fine, she abandoned the common rooms entirely and performed outside the city in an empty hay field. The first few nights she skipped any songs referencing the Truth or the Master, focusing on dance tunes, histories, legends, and lore, but as her audience grew so did her boldness, soon she sporadically tossed in a song or two of the Master and His ways. Some people disliked this apparent act of defiance but most simply enjoyed her voice and skill.

Arora's skill caught the attention of certain individuals within the Order, some who secretly adored her. Someone suggested that she could perform for the High Council and the higher-ranking officers within the Order. This was readily agreed to and Colonel Karly's Secretary was dispatched to make the arrangements. After days of tedium and no progress, Tristan could not believe he actually received such an assignment! He gladly went in search of the mysterious songstress that had enchanted the city. Tristan tracked her to a small inn in the middle of town where the innkeeper stiffly told him she was indisposed and not to be disturbed, but the lady herself soon joined the conversation, firmly telling the innkeeper she was happy to see anyone who called upon her when she was not actually sleeping. He muttered sullenly about her needing her rest and stalked off. Tristan bowed formally and asked if he might have a private word with her. She nodded solemnly, trying to quash her eager grin, and escorted him to her sitting room, a rare amenity but she had the best room at the inn, courtesy of the grateful, if overprotective, innkeeper.

Once they were safely away from prying ears, she said, "I have missed you greatly."

"As have I," smiled Tristan.

"But I thought we were not to be seen 'together' by anyone outside the Brethren?" queried she.

"But I am on official business for the Order," said he, bowing in mock-formality.

"I see," said she without expression.

"Though it is an errand I happily perform," added he warmly.

"I see," she replied, thawing a little.

"The Order requests your presence at a special performance for all the high-muckety-mucks," grinned Tristan like an eager and mischievous little boy, unable to contain himself.

"That is their exact wording?" asked Arora archly.

"Certainly," said Tristan with nothing even close to a straight face.

"At least they have not come to arrest me," laughed she airily. Tristan looked concerned. "You need not worry," said she, "I have ruffled a few feathers but no one has complained about it or threatened me." He relaxed as she continued, "I do not usually do command performances for royalty, but how could I resist the chance to sing of the Master before such an audience?" She almost giggled at the irony of the thought. "Yes," mused she, "I shall certainly sing for your masters." Tristan winced at that but she laughed all the more.

"Please choose your repertoire carefully," begged Tristan.

She sobered immediately and said, "would you back down from facing a foe just to save your own skin? You fight evil with the sword; my battle against the Enemy is with my voice and my songs. I will do what I must, regardless of the cost to myself." She quietly added, "or to us." Tristan nodded in sad acknowledgement, it was who and what they were. To deny or ignore the Master simply to protect yourself from an awkward situation was contrary to their mission and the Oath. She would do as she felt she must. This would be a rare opportunity of speaking, or rather singing, the Truth where it was never heard. Tristan brightened slightly at the mention of 'us' but could no longer look forward to her performance without trepidation.

On the day of her performance, the High Council and the assorted officers filled the main audience chamber of the Citadel. A mere captain of Tristan's standing would not have qualified even for a space to stand and watch, but as he was the secretary to a colonel, they allowed him a seat near the back. They had asked him to convey to Arora that she should refrain from any 'questionable' material; he had done his best but she had the right of it and was prepared to face the consequences, whatever they might be. At the appointed time, she stepped out into the middle of the room, dressed in a simple white gown with a tiny silver unicorn embroidered on one shoulder. The audience surrounded her, for the chairs rose in tiered levels on every side. All lamps were dimmed, save those encircling her. She suddenly felt very small and alone under all those eyes, but she was determined not to fail. Picking up her instrument, she took a deep breath and began. She had chosen her repertoire with care, for such a militant audience she chose songs of war, battle, and glory. One could almost hear the thump of booted feet, the clash of swords, the sound of horn and drum, and the thunder of many hooves.

She sang of desperate battles, last stands, glorious victories, and lost wars. She sang of the terror and heat in the midst of battle, the drudgery of long marches, cold nights, and short rations. For many of the old campaigners, long since buried in paperwork and meetings, it almost felt as if they rode again on the path to war, their blood stirred and their hearts sang. Old memories of glory, death, and pain filled their minds. They listened in dumbfounded silence, hanging on every note and word. She had them mesmerized, but next came the dangerous part of her plan. She switched her songs from grand battles and forgotten wars to a subtler arena of honor, duty, and love. Instead of marching off to battle, the stories told of fighting evil on all fronts and in all ways, not just with a sword, but with all your being and abilities. She sang of devotion to others, the willingness to die for a just cause, of charity for the weak and poor, and justice and mercy for high and low alike. This led into her finale, which was a beautiful retelling of the Master's sacrifice for erring mankind. Every ear and eye was transfixed on the beautiful songstress, as she finished her last song, silence hung in the air and no one dared even to breathe.

All sat frozen, save one man. Something disturbed Tristan, who turned his head slightly, catching a small movement out of the corner of his eye. He sat at the very back, perched like a bird upon some lonely precipice of the sea. Nearby, in the darkest corner of the room, a shadowy figure quietly drew back the string of his bow, unseen by any eye save Tristan's, who leapt from his chair and tackled the man. A sharp twang rang through the chamber as the man lost hold of his arrow and it ricocheted off the low ceiling. Between the noise of the scuffle and the arrow, the singer's spell was broken and everyone jumped, as if suddenly awakened from a sound sleep, all eyes turned in astonishment from the songstress to the noise at the back of the room. Lights were called for and several strong arms pulled the struggling men apart.

"What is the meaning of this?" growled a scar-faced general. He glared balefully from one man to the other and back, barked he, "Is this any way to behave in the presence of the High Council?" The sinister man glared with loathing at Tristan, a little blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. "Colonel Karly, is not this your secretary?" snapped the general.

"Yes sir," said the Colonel, pushing his way to the fore, "and I am sure he has a very good explanation for interrupting the evening's entertainment." He looked significantly at Tristan.

"Who is this other character?" scowled the general, "He gives me the creeps." He glared at Tristan, "Well?"

"Sir," said Tristan confidently, "I have no idea who this man is, but he had an arrow aimed at someone in the front. Whether it was the singer or one of the Councilmen, I do not know. I only knew he must me stopped." A wave of surprise ran through the gathered crowd.

"Is this true?" snapped the general. The vile man just sneered at the scarred-face.

"Here!" yelled someone from the crowd, as an arrow was passed to the front.

"I see," said the General, before adding gruffly, "release the captain."

Tristan was freed, but asked, "sir, may I check something?"

"If you must," sighed he. The audience gasped as Tristan pulled forth a dagger and approached the would-be assassin, he ripped the fabric of the man's sleeve over the appropriate shoulder, to reveal an evil serpent snarling up at him.

"Sir!" gasped Tristan, "It is as I feared. Could we retire to somewhere private with this man, Captain Frey, Colonel Karly, and whomever else of your choosing? There is much to discuss." The bewildered general nodded automatically and led the way to a private room just off the audience chamber. Tristan had only a moment to exchange a reassuring smile with the worried Arora before he was lost in the crowd.

The men Tristan had requested with several other high-ranking officers, along with those restraining the man, found themselves sequestered in the little room. All non-essential personnel were excused, the man was searched, tied up, and relieved of his weapons. "Now what is going on?" demanded the General, "This has been a disappointing end to a lovely evening!"

"Actually sir," said Tristan eagerly, "I am ecstatic that one of these traitors has finally been caught alive."

The General's irritation melted into curiosity, "proceed."

Tristan continued, "twice now men of this group have attempted to kill me. The latest was on my mission to the garrison at Westhope. Every time the attacker was killed in the attempt or took his own life when capture was imminent, but each bore a snarling black serpent tattooed on his shoulder and upon death melted into a nasty black puddle of goo." Looks of disbelief and horror appeared on every face. He pressed on, "my first encounter with these men was during my leave of absence when I crossed the Western Mountains and entered the land of Westria. There the Queen was under the sway of one of their number and another tried to kill me when I became a hindrance to their plot. Both were killed before we could capture them and a third fled. I made some enquiries and a reliable source revealed that a group called The Brotherhood of the Serpent was behind everything." The man winced to hear name aloud, which only confirmed Tristan's suspicions, he finished, "they are a shadowy and mysterious group, little more is known about them than that they are steeped in evil beyond imagining and have some access to powers arcane and dark."

"What does this have to do with the Order?" asked the general.

Karly cleared his throat and began to explain, "sir, some time ago some of us began to notice a breakdown in the discipline of the Order. At first, we thought it the result of too many new recruits and not enough leadership, or perhaps a lack of enforcement of Order protocol, but things deteriorated rapidly, unspeakable things were going on in the field with not even a word of reproof from the Council. We began to wonder if there was not some darker force at work. I sent the captain here out into the field to straighten out a few of the more rebellious units, he has done a remarkable job, which has convinced most of the other field units to get back in line. On his last trip, as he already stated, someone decided that he had become a nuisance and must be eliminated. The attempt on his life seemed to confirm our suspicions about some malevolent force behind the Order's moral decline. I do not know who this man was attempting to kill, but he is our only link to whoever is behind this sinister plot." They all stared at the restrained man, as if he was suddenly a rare and dangerous predator little glimpsed by common men.

The villain scoffed, "I was trying to do away with that pretty little singer of yours. What would it matter to you? She is no part of your precious Order. Her words and songs have too much influence and she needed to be silenced. If you will not do your duty and squash such heretical chatter, we will do it ourselves."

"We?" asked the general.

"Those of us who have to gain from chaos and strife," laughed the man cruelly.

"In Westria," said Tristan, "one of these men spoke of his master using chaos and confusion as a means to cover all the world in darkness. If everyone is looking out for himself and all are at war with one another, instead of facing a strong and united front, this shadowy enemy could simply walk in and sweep us all away as we squabble amongst ourselves."

"You see much," growled the prisoner, "too much. My masters will see that your meddling is ended."

"I still do not see what this has to do with the Order," scowled the general.

"We fear sir," replied Karly, "that there are more members of this terrible brood amongst our own ranks or perhaps influencing them."

"Speak!" commanded the general of the stranger, "What do you know?"

"That you will never discover!" laughed the man grimly, as he fell over dead.

"What?!" squawked the general, as he stared at the ebony puddle that had been his prisoner.

"It seems these creatures have the ability to die at will," said Karly in disgust, "I guess it is a good way to keep a secret, but it certainly makes our job more difficult."

"Now what?" asked Frey, "At least we know there is a link between this evil brotherhood and the Order, but how do we find out who is working for, or influenced by, these vile men?"

"Perhaps," said Tristan, "we let it be known, at least among the highest circles of command, that we have captured and interrogated one of these evil men and have learned much useful information. Then we watch and see who flees or starts acting a little strange, then perhaps we will find more leads to follow."

"It sounds like our only option," said the general morosely.

An emergency session of the High Council was called and all of the highest-ranking officers were ordered to attend. It was made public that there was some scheme to influence the Order from the outside, and that one of these sinister conspirators had been detained and questioned thoroughly. As more leads were found, others would be called in for questioning and the perpetrators would be found and dealt with accordingly. Everyone present was sworn to secrecy and told to be on their guard and report any suspicious activity immediately.

During the meeting, Tristan sought Arora among the milling crowd. He caught her eye and she followed him at a distance to a small room on the side of the audience chamber. When they were alone, he said, "you did beautifully tonight, I am sorry I ever doubted you or worried for your safety."

She smiled at him, saying, "I know what you said was only out of concern for me, but it felt as if you were asking me to violate my Oath out of fear for my safety. While I appreciate your concern, if this is going to work, we must both make sure it will not compromise our duties. We serve the Master first and everything else is second. Agreed?"

Tristan wondered what 'this' was, but said, "yes, I agree completely."

"What happened up there?" asked she.

"Apparently you have been targeted as a nuisance by this Brotherhood," said he, "they attempted to kill you with an arrow. I tackled the man, but we did not get much information out of him before he somehow willed himself to die."

She gasped in horror and relief, saying breathlessly, "where do we go from here?"

"We both need to be very careful," he said, "but we cannot shirk our duties for fear of a knife in the back either. The Order is now aware of this menace, is acting to purge itself of its influence, and hopefully this will all soon be over."

She withdrew from the small room first, Tristan followed some time later. Arora was soon accosted by her many admirers amongst the crowd, talking long into the night with them. Tristan stood at a distance, watching for danger, until he was summoned to Karly's chambers.

"Well done tonight," said the colonel as Tristan bowed himself in, "I think we may finally be making some progress." Tristan nodded his agreement. He continued, "now I have a slight change in your assignment. General Hark, the charming man you met earlier tonight, has taken quite a liking to this singer; he wants her protected and has decided that you are the man to do it."

"Me?" gasped Tristan.

"Yes you," continued Karly, smiling in amusement, "as long as she stays in Panmycea, you are to act as her bodyguard. He also thinks that since both of you have been targets of this group before you may be so again, therefore he hopes that you may draw more of these villains into the open."

"Bait?" smiled Tristan in anticipation.

"So it seems," agreed Karly, "the general also hopes the songstress will sing again on a fairly regular basis at the Citadel, not just for the higher-ups but for everyone. He thinks it would be good for morale and behavior, and I agree. You will talk to her about that as well." Tristan bowed himself out, not sure whether to sing for joy or run for cover with such an assignment.

His official duty was now to protect Arora, but he was also responsible for whatever schemes Karly decided he could handle while doing so, not to mention acting as bait for any would-be assassins. How did he get himself into such dilemmas? Instead of being driven from the Citadel by a rioting crowd for heretical singing, Arora had been personally invited back by several members of the Council and was officially protected by men in the Order's service. She was to perform once a week and the performance was open to everyone. Tristan marveled at the receptivity with which her songs and message were met, but sometimes he forgot how even the most powerful hungered secretly for truth, meaning, and love. There was a time for secrecy and discretion, but boldness was often needed to make a true impact, perhaps in the end, she would accomplish more with her songs than he ever would with his sword.

After each performance, a number of her hearers would approach and ask questions about her music, herself, or her message, this one-on-one time was where she could direct each heart in the direction it needed to go. Often, she was asked if she was married, but she only replied with an airy laugh that men were trouble and she had worries enough without such entanglements. When she was not singing for the Order, she was making her rounds of the city, drawing a large following wherever she went. Off-duty knights of the Order often went in search of her when she was not singing in the Citadel.

Tristan couldn't stay awake and protect her all of the time, as much as he might wish it, forcing him to recruit a couple more men to share in the guard duty. There was no shortage of volunteers, allowing Tristan to choose two of the most skilled and trustworthy men stationed in the Citadel. They rotated sixteen hours on and eight off, so that Arora had two men with her at all times, when she required privacy or sleep, one man was stationed at her door and the other outside the building. She thought it a great joke that one of the Brethren would be so heavily guarded by the Order! It was a nuisance to never be free of her entourage, but under the current circumstances she accepted it gracefully. Tristan's constant presence was a comfort to her, though they could never show any outward sign of their growing regard for one another, they each knew how the other felt.

Several months passed in this fashion with no more attempts made on Arora or Tristan's life. One of the members of the High Council fled in the night and several high-ranking officers were detained on suspicions that they were preparing to leave as well. The detained officers were part of the conspiracy, but had not yet sworn their lives to the Brotherhood, their testimony revealed the identities of the other members of the conspiracy and the whole fiasco was finally put to rest. The fled councilman was declared a renegade and field units were ordered to seize him upon sight. Recruiting efforts were slowed to normal rates when it was discovered that the renegade councilor had been the main push behind the effort, especially when Tristan divulged what he knew about the connection with Westria. Karly was voted into the vacant seat on the High Council for his work in stopping the plot against the Order, while many changes were made to the regulations and protocols governing field units and were strictly enforced. The Order finally seemed to be heading in the right direction.

Changes were also made to the Order's mission and future plans. Instead of seeing commoners as 'common,' they began to see them as people who had wants, needs, and feelings just like the nobility. Instead of viewing them as a group to be exploited, they were now viewed as a group to be served. The Order's newly declared purpose was to protect the weak and uphold justice and the Common Law. Tristan nearly collapsed in surprise when he heard about this complete reversal in attitude. At last, the Order was becoming a respectable group to be associated with, which probably meant that his time there was at an end. They even went so far as to ask the Lady to send experts on the Common Law to assist them in revising their policies, a request with which she happily complied. She also sent several bards and teachers along to take Arora's place when she left. The 'garrison' in Astoria was disbanded, though Bristol stayed on as the Order's 'advisor' to the Lady; Tristan and Arora were ordered home.

Tristan knocked on the door of the Councilor's chambers. A servant answered, and after a brief exchange with the Councilor, Tristan was allowed to enter. "Captain!" said Karly, "This is an unexpected pleasure."

"Yes, sir," said Tristan quietly, "I wish I had better tidings."

"What can dampen the joy of so many victories?" asked Karly in concern, "For the first time in my life I am proud to say I belong to the Order."

"I am very happy about the recent changes sir," said Tristan, "but I must resign my commission."

"Why?" asked Karly, "The High Council was thinking about promoting you. No one has risen so far so fast. It would be a devastating loss to the Order to lose a man of your talents, especially when you had so much influence on our recent policy changes."

"Me sir?" asked Tristan in bewilderment.

"Yes!" said Karly, "You and those with whom you have worked have shown us what can happen when we put others first; it is pointless serving ourselves! The Order was rotting from within because we had no greater purpose or meaning, but thank the Master, you and that lovely songstress were able to shine some light into our darkened hearts. We now have meaning and purpose and the world, and the Order, will be a far better place because of it. You gave us the example and the singer inspired us to act, by reminding us of the virtues we had forgotten or ignored. We have even allowed some of these Brethren to speak at some of our councils and meetings; there is much to learn, but we are eager to do so."

Tristan spoke at last, a little sadly for what he must say but also delighted at the outcome, "sir, I am greatly encouraged by all the changes you have wrought in so short a time and look forward to seeing what the Order will become in future, but as for my resignation, I have been ordered back to Astoria by the Lady." He let the full import of his words sink in before he continued, "she is the one who ordered me to join up with the Order in the first place. She feared the direction the Order was taking and wondered what they were up to. Neither of us knew what to expect, I certainly did not anticipate finding something as terrible as this Brotherhood of the Serpent. Now that the Order and the Brethren are at least communicating and the Order is free of the Brotherhood, I am needed elsewhere. My duty is to the Lady and the Master, and is much broader than my allegiance to any one organization. While the immediate threat to the Order has subsided, the Brotherhood is still out there and must be discovered and destroyed wherever it lurks. I am grateful for my time here and the support you have shown me, I only regret the brevity of my time with you and the other honorable men with whom I have had the pleasure to serve." He bowed formally.

Karly was silent for a few moments as he absorbed what Tristan had just said. He knew the man was skilled, faithful, and honorable, but he had no idea he was one of these almost mythic Brethren. A great respect for Tristan and his Brothers suddenly grew in Karly's heart. "It was my honor to serve with you," said Karly quietly, "it saddens me to see you go, but what must be must be. If ever you need the support of the Order or wish to return to us, all you need do is ask. I will try to increase our communication and interaction with this Lady of yours, for there is much she could teach us. Farewell."

Tristan bowed again and slipped from the room. He said goodbye to the men he was closest to, withdrew to his quarters for the last time, and slipped out of his uniform and into some plain clothes. He glanced at the uniform lying forlornly on the bed and a small pang of sadness crept through his heart. He had never wanted to join the Order, but a part of him would miss the men with whom he had shared some of the strangest days of his life. He left the Citadel for the last time and rode out of the city to a small, quiet inn. Arora was singing a quiet, hopeful song when he walked into the common room and squeezed into the last free corner. She went through a few more verses, ending on a note of expectation and joy, easing many a tired heart and worried minds. She returned her instrument to its case and spoke quietly to anyone who wished to talk. Outside, the sun vanished from the sky as night engulfed the world. The candles had burned low by the time the last curious bystander was satisfied and had retired for the night. She smiled warmly at Tristan, bidding him a quiet goodnight. He took a room and slept soundly. The next morning, they awoke with the sun, shared a pleasant breakfast, and then mounted up for the journey home.

### Chapter 15

The year was growing old and the weather was far from congenial for the travelers, for the wind blew cold from the north while the sky often threatened rain or snow. It would have been a miserable journey alone, but their shared company lightened the gloom. At last they reached Astoria, and after something warm to drink and a change into dry clothing, they were escorted to the Lady. She beamed with delight at the sight of them, "you have worked a miracle on the Order of the Unicorn! It may one day be worthy of the name! Very well done, but I am afraid I cannot let you rest quite yet. Especially you, Tristan. This Brotherhood of the Serpent is still out there and I need your help to bring it to its knees." Tristan bowed in acquiescence. "Now when will I have the honor of marrying you two?" asked the Lady, with a poor attempt at a serious expression.

"My Lady?" asked Tristan with a gasp. They had not even discussed marriage, though it was a hope that sometimes flitted through his mind. Arora looked equally stunned.

Arora replied in a tremulous voice, "we like each other very much, my Lady, but we have not even begun to think about such a commitment. We each have our duties and this is such a dangerous time..."

"Nonsense," laughed the Lady, "it is always a dangerous time and you will always have work to do. If you do not just go ahead and do it you will never get around to it. And if you wait until you are ready, you will wait forever. You may not have discussed it, but I can tell that both of you have thought about it?" Each nodded and blushed. The Lady smiled knowingly, "the two of you practically glow when you are in each other's company. If you are not together you will be distracted while apart, and that I cannot have. You must decide now whether you will say your vows or forever remain apart." They looked at each other and nodded, before turning to the Lady and saying they would like to be married. "Good," said the Lady, "let us begin." Neither had imagined when she said 'now' that she truly meant at that precise moment, but they were more than willing to take their vows then and there, the wedding proceeded quietly and quickly, and after, Tristan looked at his new bride and smiled broadly. She blushed but returned his smile. The Lady beamed.

The newlyweds were given three days alone together, but were then summoned again to the Lady for their next assignment. "Now that we have that messy business behind us," said the Lady, smiling warmly, "let us get back to work. As you both know, we have recently unearthed a most disturbing foe. Apparently, this Brotherhood is nearly as old as the Brethren and has been working against us from time immemorial though we knew it not. We know nothing about their infrastructure, their organization, or their location. That is what I want you two to discover. I need to know what they are up to and if we can put an end to them once and for all. Tristan, I am sorry your missions of late have been very vague, this one most of all, but you have done very well and I have no doubt the Master will lead you where you need to go. Arora, your days as a traveling Bard are temporarily at an end, for now you are in the service of the Messenger sect and will accompany and assist Tristan with his missions, though I believe your talents will come in handy as you travel. You can use them as a cover for your true mission, and they may even allow you to gain access where you could not otherwise venture. We are aware of the existence of at least one of these men of the Brotherhood, which is the servant that fled from Westria when Tristan was there. I also wonder if this renegade member of the Order's High Council is not also of their ilk. Perhaps by tracking down one or the other of these men you will find further evidence of the Brotherhood's existence? Otherwise I have no counsel to give you about where to begin or how to proceed." They bowed to the Lady and thanked her before leaving her presence.

Tristan wondered what had ever happened to the 'good old days' when his life was simple and the Lady said 'do this' or 'do that' and he went and did it and completed his mission. Now his course was hidden from him, everything seemed so vague and foggy. He was ecstatic about the prospect of traveling with Arora, but where were they to go? He had no leads as to where either the servant or the councilor had fled, short of walking into a den of evil and demanding to know where the Brotherhood's headquarters were, he had no ideas on how or where to begin and Arora was just as puzzled. Perhaps Nargath would know something or know someone who might know something? Arora had always wanted to meet a dragon and thought it was at least a place to start. They applied to the Lady and she gave her consent. They set off for the Northern Wilds, traveling under the guise of a wandering musician and her guard. The weather was typical for the colder months of the year, but the congenial company well made up for any lack in the pleasantness of the elements through which they traveled.

They soon arrived outside Nargath's cave, "hello?" called Tristan, but there came no reply. He called again, but still silence reigned. Tristan crept cautiously into the opening to see if he could find some clue as to the dragon's absence.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" asked Arora.

"It is never a good idea to walk uninvited into a dragon's lair, but I need to know if he still haunts these hills or if he has moved on," said Tristan. His wife nodded reluctantly, standing watch at the entrance as he moved deeper into the cave.

There came a great rush of wind and a loud, hissing snarl, "who dares invade my lair?"

Tristan, who had not moved very far into the cave, quickly came out to face the dragon. The dragon's eyes glowed red with anger and he looked ready to do something violent. "Nargath," said Tristan calmly, "we have come seeking your counsel." The dragon suddenly sat up on his haunches, squinting at his miniscule visitors.

"How do you know my name?" asked he.

"You do not remember me?" smiled Tristan.

"Most humans look the same to me," said the dragon simply.

"Remember a certain incident about this time last year involving a small girl and a rather impudent soldier?" asked Tristan.

"Ah yes," said the dragon, "but where is your daring brigade? All I see here is another small girl." Arora glared defiantly at the dragon but he apparently didn't notice. "I would not talk that way about her if I were you," laughed her husband, "she is as fierce a fighter as any man under my command."

"I beg your pardon, my lady," said the dragon cordially. She acknowledged his apology with a satisfied nod.

"I hope you do not keep this lady against her will," smirked the dragon.

"No," said Tristan, his smile deepening, "she has agreed to put up with me indefinitely, please meet my wife, Arora."

"Pleased to meet you my lady," said the dragon, "though you must teach your husband more restraint. I nearly devoured him for his impertinence last year, but he managed to somehow talk his way out of it."

"I do not doubt it," laughed she, "his tongue is as good at getting him into trouble as it is at getting him out."

"Never was a truer word spoken," agreed the dragon. Tristan cleared his throat and the two remembered he was standing right there. Changing the subject, the dragon said, "so you come for counsel?"

"Yes," said Tristan, "over the last year I have stumbled upon a shadowy group of men called the Brotherhood of the Serpent. The Lady has sent us out hoping to learn more about them. All we know about them has come from a few brief interactions with them and a book provided by Mortimer of Westria. We were hoping you knew something of them or knew someone who might."

"Mortimer!" said Nargath, "He is a bit slow sometimes, but he is a good chap, at least if you can catch him awake. I hope he was doing well when last you met?"

"He was having a very nice nap," said Tristan wryly.

"Yes," laughed the dragon, "he can sleep for decades. I have heard mention of this Brotherhood, but sadly I know no more than the name. I suppose one of the black dragons would know more, as evil is their specialty. But then you cannot go traipsing around anywhere near where the black dragons live lest you be destroyed before you can even broach the subject. Even a green dragon would be in grave peril if he wandered into their territory unannounced. I can make some inquiries for you, but I cannot promise any results. I will ask, but they may simply ignore me. I will get word to you if I learn anything, however."

"Thank you," said Tristan, "that is very generous of you. How is that little girl who enjoys singing so much?"

A reflective look passed across the dragon's face, "she is doing very well. I just came back from visiting her. She has such a lovely voice."

"If you would like," smiled Arora, "I could entertain you with a song or two."

The dragon looked hopefully at her and said, "I would be very much pleased." They passed a pleasant evening of music and conversation, parting sadly at dawn upon their respective errands.

On the fourth night of their journey back to Astoria, they stopped at an inn for the night. Arora gladly took up her instrument, playing for the gathered guests. As the night waned, a shifty looking fellow sidled up to her after the last song of the evening; Tristan watched him closely.

"I begs your pardon mistress," grinned he, "but I see you have a way with music." She looked at him questioningly, as he continued, "I know people as know people who like music." She looked at him blankly. "I know people who could make it worth yer while for a little performance," translated he.

"Who are these people?" asked Arora.

"Oh," said he, "they do not like to be talked about much. They are real shy, if you take my meaning?"

"And what do you get out of this?" asked she skeptically.

"There be a reward for finding them good entertainment," said the man.

"What must I do to meet these people of yours?" asked she.

"Do not worry, if you are interested, they will find you," replied the shifty man.

"You may let them know I am interested," said she.

"Very good," smiled the man, "you will hear from them shortly." With that, he scurried out of the inn as she came and sat by Tristan.

"What was all that about?" inquired he.

"I am not sure but I think we need to play along with it for now," mused Arora. Tristan did not understand either but he felt the same.

Long before sunrise the next morning, there came a scratching sound on their door. Tristan bolted out of bed, sword in hand. He cracked open the door and peered into the hall, there was no one there, but a folded piece of paper had been slipped under the door. He opened it and read. In a shaky hand, someone had scrawled: We have been advised of your musical abilities. If they are what we have heard, we will pay you well for your services. If you do not follow these instructions to the letter, there will be no deal. Come alone, or at most with your guard, to the ruins just outside the village. Come before sunrise. Tell no one of this message or of us... It was not signed. Arora read the letter, they exchanged an intrigued look, and began packing.

The world was dark and cold in the gloom before daybreak, they moved silently and swiftly to the appointed meeting place and waited. A short, hooded figure met them, motioning for them to follow; they exchanged another of those intrigued smiles and did as they were bidden their mysterious. For over an hour they traveled silently through the dark woods, but finally the sun peered over the rim of the world. As the day grew brighter, their guide stopped in a large clearing surrounded by ancient trees, said he in a scratchy voice, "we are safe from prying eyes and ears here."

"Who are you?" asked Arora.

"We are a hidden people, a forgotten civilization, the original inhabitants of this region," said the man, who stood about two-thirds the height of a grown man, "we lived here long before men moved northward, and I hope we will be here long after he has again retreated south. We hunt wild game and gather the fruits of the forest. We are no threat to anyone unless they threaten us, only wishing to live on in anonymity and peace. We have become very good at hiding from those who would do us harm, and there are very few who know of our existence."

"What would you have of me?" asked Arora.

"We dearly love music," said the man, "if you would be so kind as to play for us, we would happily pay you a fair price."

"You need not pay for my services," replied she, "I would happily play for so noble a folk."

He smiled at her kind words, as they followed him deeper into the forest, he continued, "my people have some innate skill with illusion, it keeps out those who would do us harm and protects our borders, because of this, we can sense when something is not what it appears. Your beasts appear to be common horses, but they are not."

"You see truly," said Tristan, "they are the noblest and fairest of all creatures that go on four legs, but it is their secret to share, if they wish." For a moment, they stopped and the unicorns briefly allowed the little man to see them in their true forms, before cloaking themselves again in the guise of common horses.

"How is it you come to have such noble mounts?" gasped the man.

"It is their choice to serve us," said Tristan, "they bear no one against their will."

They journeyed deeper into the ancient woods, all silent as the little man appeared lost in thought. What strange guests had he invited into his realm? In the very heart of the wood, the ground sloped down from all sides, forming a little basin, whose center was clear and paved with flat river stones. The sides were terraced with wooden benches and logs placed in rows all the way around the sloping sides: it was a little amphitheater. As they looked closer, they saw something like little cottages high up in the trees, built among the branches. Ladders were tossed down and many people of a similar height to their guide, and some shorter, ran to great them, the children seemed the most excited. They were a stout, ruddy people with cheerful faces.

In a sheltered area they were served a late breakfast and given warm water and towels to clean up with; they removed the unicorns' tack, letting them run free upon the grass. Once everyone was clean, fed, and rested, Arora took her place in the little basin and sang for much of the day. The little people were overjoyed, most never having heard anything that brought them such pleasure. That night, it was their turn to provide the music and a feast of roast venison, quail, dried fruits, nuts, fish, wild honey and every type of treat the forest could offer. After a large meal, they broke out their own unique instruments and played a wild tune that made even the worst dancer want to kick up their heels and try. After such an extraordinary night, the travelers slept most of the following morning, but around noon finally stirred from their beds.

Their guide, who was also the leader of the hidden people, said, "I wish we could have this pleasure often repeated, but I fear you must be on your way, as we also have our own chores to attend to. Perhaps when you pass this way again you will remember us?"

Tristan smiled and said, "we most certainly will, thank you for your hospitality!"

"I only wish there was something you would take in payment for your services," said the little man.

"Perhaps you have information that can avail us?" suggested Tristan.

"Perhaps," said the little man, "though I know little that goes on beyond the borders of the Wilds, as you call them."

"That may be just the information I need," said Tristan, "I am guessing you know more of these mysterious lands than almost anyone else?" The man nodded solemnly. "Good," said Tristan, "we are seeking a secretive and evil group of men. We know that some of them go about on the backs of a large, two-legged reptilian predator with frightful teeth, terrible claws, a long snaky neck, and a whip-like tail. All we know is that these creatures are native to the Wilds or somewhere beyond it. Have you any knowledge of such beasts or the men who may seek them out?"

The little man was silent for some time before he spoke, "what you speak is not widely known amongst our people, but it has passed from Elder to Elder with every generation. Why do you seek such knowledge?"

"We have been sent to discover what we can of these evil men, and if possible, we are to put an end to their Brotherhood," said Tristan.

The little man gasped in horror, "you are walking into grave peril, but if this is your quest then I will assist you as I can. The creatures we call 'lurkers,' and they dwell mostly in the swampy plains beyond the northern borders of the forest. They are dumb, but terrible beasts, that hunt in small packs and prey on anything they can catch, including smaller members of their own kind. From time to time, sinister and evil men have been seen crossing the Wilds and entering the swamps in search of such beasts. I know not what spells or charms they place upon the monsters, but somehow they tame them and use them as others use horses. We watch these strangers pass by night, but do not dare go near them."

"How often do you see such men?" asked Tristan.

"We see several cross our borders every year," said he.

"Have you seen any lately?" asked Tristan.

"One was seen several days ago," said the man.

"Can you lead us to him?" asked Tristan.

The little man swallowed nervously but said, "I will."

Almost immediately, they set out in search of the shadowy figure that had been seen four days prior crossing the little country. The man was on foot, so they hoped he had not traveled beyond reach. Tristan placed the little man before him in the saddle as they traveled swiftly to one of the last outposts where the little people kept watch. They saw the man last night, crossing out of their country and into the broad, flat plains that stretched away into the north. Tristan left the man at the border and wished him well. The Elder watched them ride off into the gathering night, wondering what evil fate might befall them.

They let the unicorns have their heads, as they were keen sighted in the darkness and Taragon knew the smell of the 'lurkers.' They traveled swiftly and silently as is a unicorn's wont, always looking for some sign of their quarry. About midnight, the unicorns stopped and sniffed the air; Taragon caught the scent of a group of the beasts in the distance. Tristan did not wish to confront the man directly, that would only lead to yet another dead end, rather he wanted to follow the man to his final destination, hoping he would lead them to the main headquarters of this Brotherhood. It was a cloudy night and little could be seen on the vast, dark plain. Taragon pulled back, sensing the approaching creatures. They took cover behind a gigantic boulder sticking out of the ground and rising high above their heads. These lands were strewn with such monoliths of rock, which provided ample cover from the approaching pack.

The pack came within earshot, the snuffling and squawking sounds of the vicious creatures filling the night. In the distance, as if following the creatures, a small, man-sized figure approached: a darker spot in the blackness. They could see little in the black night, but something that sounded like humming sounded from the man-shape. One of the creatures stood as if transfixed, the rest backed up, squawking in fear, that an unarmed man on foot could frighten such terrible beasts made one wonder just how powerful he truly was. The hypnotized beast stood as still as a statue as the man approached, he threw something over the creature's head and fastened it on the creature's breast. Tristan thought he saw it glint red in the darkness, knowing without seeing clearly that it was one of those milky-red crystals such as Visca used to 'tame' his beast. Without further ado, the man jumped on the creature's back and rode off into the night; the rest of the pack had retreated into the relative safety of the darkness. Tristan gave the thing fifteen minutes to get ahead of them before they set off in pursuit, he hoped to stay far enough behind that the man did not realize he was being followed, but close enough that they did not lose the trail. It would be a strange journey and their quarry would set the pace.

They tracked the pair until nearly dawn, when he found a suitable hiding place to camp for the day; Tristan and Arora did likewise. They traveled only at night and on overcast days, as if either man or beast feared the sun or perhaps felt safer in the dark or the gloom. They traveled when he traveled and stopped when he rested. The creatures were able to cover ground quickly, the pace would have killed a horse. Gradually they traveled south and east, at last nearing more civilized lands. The stranger avoided any contact with other men, as the chances of encountering others increased, he traveled only during the very late night and early morning. It was a gloomy road, but eventually the man stopped, for over a day he did not move. They waited another day just to be sure, but still there was no movement.

Finally, they decided to investigate, lest they sit and wait forever for nothing to happen. They cautiously approached the small clearing wherein the man had camped, one from each direction. There was no sign of the man, but the scent of the beast was strong in the noses of the unicorns. Taragon nosed around a large pile of brush and leaves off to one side of the campsite, snorting in surprise at what he unearthed. The monster slept soundly under the brush pile, nothing they said or did could rouse the thing from its enchanted sleep, the man had hidden the beast and continued on foot. Without the smell of the beast to follow, tracking the man would be more difficult, but Tristan soon found his trail, which had already grown cold.

The man had a two-day head start but they were able to follow his trail as far as a small cart path leading towards a main road. Tristan said, "if he has left the beast, he must mean to return for it or call it to him at some point in the future; we must be close to his final destination."

Arora agreed and they set off along the cart path, which eventually joined with the main road. Tristan now recognized the country through which they traveled, they were making towards Lorna, the capital city of Vespera. He idly wondered what the Queen would think of his new wife. More seriously, he wondered if Vespera housed the headquarters of the Brotherhood or if they had stumbled upon a lone agent who had some evil business in the country. By nightfall, they reached the city and took a room at a small inn on the outskirts of town.

"How do we find him now?" asked Arora.

"I have no idea," said Tristan, "I spent a couple months here about a year ago."

"Yes," said Arora, "you have mentioned it."

"I do not know whether we should remain anonymous and seek him ourselves or whether I should go directly to the Queen," said Tristan.

"Why not go directly to the Queen?" asked Arora.

"We parted on rather awkward terms," said Tristan, blushing.

"Yes?" said Arora, acutely interested.

"She basically made a marriage proposal," said Tristan in a rush.

"And you never mentioned it?" asked Arora with raised brows.

"It seemed irrelevant, it was completely one-sided," said Tristan desperately.

"It seems relevant now," said Arora wryly.

"I am sorry," said Tristan, "she took a liking to me, but I have no feelings of 'that' kind for her."

"I forgive you," said Arora kindly, "I am not angry, I just wondered why you never mentioned it. How did you handle it?"

"I thanked her for her compliments and fled the country, directing her to Conrad with any further questions," smiled Tristan ruefully.

"Very heroically done," said Arora with a laugh, "I am glad you handled it better with me." She embraced her mortified husband as they both laughed.

"The other issue is Lyre," said Tristan, "the Order's pompous advisor to the Queen. For all I know, he still thinks I am part of the Order; he very nearly jumped for joy the day I rode for Astoria."

"Why not approach Conrad secretly?" suggested Arora, "If he is still in the city?"

"He was still here the last I heard," said Tristan, "but that is an excellent idea. He should be alerted to this man from the Brotherhood as well."

"I will go," said Arora.

"You?" said Tristan with a sinking heart.

"Yes," continued Arora, "I am not known here and would not arouse suspicion. Perhaps I could even offer to do a private performance for the Queen, with no incriminating music of course, this is an investigation, not an outreach after all." Tristan could see the sense of it, but he hated to send her out into danger alone, but he had better get used to it. There was nothing he could do to stop it, for it was as much her duty as it was his.

Tristan slept little that night, in the morning Arora sent a letter to the palace addressed to Conrad. Very soon, the courier returned with a reply: he would be delighted to see her later that morning. Tristan spent the remainder of the morning going over any information he could remember that might be useful, she was not sure how much helpful information she obtained but she acquired a vast collection of minutia; he tended to ramble when he was nervous, but she had never seen him nervous except where her safety was concerned.

She faced him, "Tristan, whatever happens we must do our duty. You cannot lock me in a cage or keep me safe all the time, nor can I do the same for you. We must trust the Master in all things, including this. Please do not fret about my safety."

"You are right," said Tristan contritely, "I am sorry and I will try to cope with this better. I am not trusting the Master as I should. Your safety and mine are in His hands. I must not worry about things over which I have no control." Her answering smile was warm enough to thaw the Frigid Wastes in midwinter.

### Chapter 16

It was hard to let her go, but somehow he managed to say goodbye and wished her success in her meeting. She rode slowly through the streets, wondering what to expect from the strange cast of characters she was about to meet. She had always preferred the honesty and simplicity of performing in villages and small towns; she did not like the intrigue and backstabbing found in royal courts and other seats of power. She could have easily found a position as a royal bard or minstrel, but preferred a pastoral setting and roamed from village to village. These musings filled her mind until she stood outside the palace gates, telling the guards her business. Her mare was whisked away to the stable as she was escorted to Conrad's quarters. It had been many years since she had met the man, but she remembered him as a cheerful and talkative sort of person. He bowed cordially and said, "welcome to Vespera, Arora. It has been far too long."

She returned his courtesies and replied, "I come not only for a social call but also on urgent business." She then detailed what they knew of the Brotherhood and the sinister man they had been following.

He said, "so Tristan is back, is he? It was probably wise of him to keep his presence hidden for the moment. Things are very unsettled in Vespera at present." He then described how a mysterious Count from west of mountains, from the lands between the mountains and the sea, had appeared in Vespera some months before. He said he had previously served the Queen of Westria and now offered his services to the Queen of Vespera, who had strangely taken him into her service with no further questions or thought than his own assurances. Arora then told Conrad of Tristan's adventures in Westria, as even more doubt was cast upon the shadowy Count Cisco.

To make matters worse, the man was engaged to the Queen! They were to be married as soon as he finished some business or other in the north. The man had just returned from an absence of several months and the wedding was to set for the day after tomorrow. It was obvious to both that the Queen was about to marry one of the members of the Brotherhood of the Serpent, and they little doubted that he was the fugitive servant from Westria as well. Arora asked how the Queen had chosen him as a prospective husband.

Conrad replied, "no one can explain it. One day he shows up on the doorstep unannounced, the next he is one of her top advisors, and not very long after that she has announced that he will be her future husband and King of Vespera. I know she had a thing for Tristan a year ago, but that seemed to pass; I did not think she was this desperate! She did say that Tristan had directed her to me with any further questions, I told her he had duties elsewhere and had taken Oaths preventing such an attachment. This seemed to satisfy her, though she was in a very thoughtful mood for some days, but then seemed herself again. She has been much more reserved and withdrawn since this Cisco character appeared. It sounds a similar case to what the Queen of Westria suffered under her advisor."

"Have you been able to break through this cloud of confusion, as Tristan's presence seemed to do in Westria?" asked Arora.

Conrad shook his head, "I have not been allowed near her Majesty since she fell under the influence of this viper. I am only allowed to attend her at court and then I must sit in the very back, a private conversation is strictly prohibited. The only one of her advisors who seems to like the man is Lyre, but then he likes anyone who might advance his position in life. The few times I have been near the man, the evil is nearly palpable."

"Do you think I can get near her?" asked Arora, "Say for a private performance?"

Conrad smiled, "I can do even better than that! They need a skilled musician for the wedding ceremony, and if your skill is half what it is reputed to be, then you are a sure pick. They are holding auditions this afternoon."

"Perfect," said Arora, "then I had better prepare." She bid him farewell and returned to the inn.

Tristan was very happy to see her again so soon, though grieved by her news of the Queen's impending nuptials. He agreed that they must stop the wedding, and her plan seemed most likely to at least get them an invitation. What they were to do once they had crashed the wedding was another matter. Whatever the cost, the Queen must not be allowed to marry the vile Count. Arora slipped into a suitable dress, tuned her instrument, and then headed directly for the auditions.

The auditions were a simple affair: the music for the wedding was given to each participant, they were to play or sing the pieces as best they could, and the person who gave the most pleasing performance would be hired to perform at the wedding. There were several traveling musicians, a few local favorites, two bards, and a minstrel besides Arora. As she was the last to sign up, she was also the last to perform. When her turn came, the judges had pretty much decided that either the minstrel or one of the bards was sure to get the nod, but after a few minutes of hearing this no-name musician play, there was no argument. She was given a copy of the music to take home and practice and told to report to the site of the ceremony first thing in the morning for the rehearsal. The other performers eyed her enviously but none could deny that she was by far the superior musician.

Tristan spent the day trying to come up with some sort of plan and arranging a disguise for himself. Arora returned to the inn, and nearly pulled her sword on the strange stooping man she found lurking in her room. It was Tristan! He had hunched up his back under a loose-fitting tunic and had somewhere acquired a realistic looking grey beard and ill-fitting cap, though a less sympathetic person might accidentally mistake it for a sack. He introduced himself as her new assistant: a deaf and crippled beggar upon whom she had taken pity. His sword fitted nicely in his makeshift cane. She laughed aloud at his disguise and decided that if his own wife could not recognize him, neither would their enemies.

The morning of the rehearsal dawned clear and blue with just a hint of warmth in the otherwise bitter wind, a promise of Spring but not quite yet. She arrived with her faithful servant, whose sole job appeared to be handing her things with his one free hand, the one that was not busy holding a cane. He received a few strange looks, but most of those present were used to the eccentricities of accomplished artists and no more attention was given to the matter. They only cared about how well she performed, and if her performance the day before was any indication, nothing else mattered.

The wedding was a straightforward affair, Arora would play some pretty though pointless music as the officials and guests were paraded in and seated. Then the presiding official, Lyre!, walked in to some fittingly pompous music. After he took his place at the head of the chamber, the music would change to a somber yet beautiful melody as the groom walked in and took his place. An exciting, triumphant march would then play as the bride entered, followed by her ladies and a guard of honor. The queen seemed rather dull for a bride-to-be on the eve of her wedding, but no one dared to comment. The mysterious Count went through the rehearsal as if he was enduring some tedious, though necessary, task. They went through it several times and once everything seemed to be going perfectly, the Queen begged to retire to her quarters due to an overwhelming weariness. Cisco watched her go with a predatory smile before he also left. There were a few more obscure details to be gone over, but soon enough everyone was dismissed and asked to be present again the following afternoon. Tristan could not have asked for a better chance to perfect his plan.

The afternoon of the wedding dawned overcast and gloomy; bitter drops of rain fell on the gathered crowd, as if nature itself mourned the event about to take place. The songstress took her place and performed to perfection, her bent assistant stood in the back, unobserved and unnoticed. When he was sure no one was looking, he donned the uniform and armor of one of the guards of honor and took his place as the sixth man in the party, the unfortunate fellow whose place he was filling had mysteriously disappeared a few moments ago, thanks to some assistance from Conrad. With the faceplate of the helmet down, nobody knew he was an imposter. Their turn came and they marched out, stationing themselves three on each side of the aisle. Once they had taken their stations and the music reached its end, Lyre readied himself to begin. Every eye focused on the front as the ceremony began, only to freeze in stunned silence as a loud voice proclaimed, "Count Cisco you are hereby under arrest; your sinister plot has failed. You will not continue with the ceremony."

"How dare you!" snarled Cisco, as Tristan lifted his faceplate and came towards him with sword drawn.

"No, how dare you," replied Tristan, "you will not entangle the Queen so easily in your plots."

"If I cannot have her, no one shall," cried Cisco, as he grabbed the apparently dazed Queen, shoving her to the ground. Her ladies rushed to her side to find her so deeply asleep at first they thought her dead.

"What are you doing here?" gasped Lyre, once he realized who the interloper was, "I thought you dead or exiled or..." He drew his sword and was about to rush Tristan, when he felt Conrad's blade at his throat, forcing him to stay where he was. The other guards glanced from the prone figure of their Queen and to the reason for her current state, which Tristan held at sword point. They decided not to intervene on behalf of the man who might have slain their Queen. The audience watched in astonishment but no one moved.

"This man murdered two of my colleagues in Westria and forced my flight," declared Cisco to all within earshot.

"This man is part of a vile organization that plotted the overthrow of the Westrian throne and led me into an ambush. His colleagues were conspirators and traitors; he was forced to flee when their plot became known and the Queen of Westria called for his head. He plans to do a similar evil in Vespera," said Tristan.

"By whose authority do you attempt to arrest me?" asked Cisco.

"Does it matter whose authority?" asked Tristan, "You are a traitor and have violated the laws of Westria, Vespera, the Brethren, and the Order. I am sure you have done many other evils in the course of your service to the Brotherhood of the Serpent, pick whichever authority you prefer. Now drop your weapon, I will use force if I must." With that the man charged Tristan, sword bared. The battle was fierce, though short. He was very good with the sword but Tristan was better. As the villain lay dying, Tristan asked, "where does the Brotherhood keep their headquarters?"

The dying man laughed, "fool, they have no headquarters! We are a secret and scattered people. If we had a headquarters we could be destroyed, but with no centralization we are impossible to eradicate! You will never destroy us..." he trailed off and said no more. Those gathered around gasped as he dissolved into an oily slick on the flagstones.

"How is the Queen?" asked Tristan.

"She still breathes, though barely," sobbed one of her attendants. Tristan knelt beside her. She was very pale and cold to the touch, her breathing shallow and slow. Tristan felt an evil pall hanging heavily about her.

"She is under some evil spell," said he, "she lives, but barely."

With the conflict seemingly over, Conrad dropped his guard on Lyre, who then rushed forward and was nearly nose-to-nose with Tristan. He fumed, "what have you done? You have nearly killed the Queen and have murdered her fiancé. I am declaring martial law under the auspices of the Order until we can get this mess straightened out. Guards, seize this traitor and take him away." The guards looked confusedly between Tristan, their Queen, and Lyre. "Now!" shrieked Lyre. "I would have your head immediately," grumped Lyre to Tristan, "if not for the recent changes in the Order's mandate, which demands that everyone accused of a capital offense be given an objective trial. If I ever find out who is responsible for such a change, I will have his head too!"

"You cannot declare martial law!" protested Tristan.

"Of course I can," said Lyre, "I am a senior advisor to the Queen and an objective party."

"You are certainly not an objective party," said Tristan, "if I must stand trial for these supposed crimes, I ask that Conrad preside over the proceedings."

Lyre glanced in irritation at Conrad, "he is no more an objective party than I. I hate to admit it but you are correct. I will send to Panmycea immediately for an objective overseer." He smiled wickedly, "I will also send Conrad back to Astoria to fetch an objective official. It will be amusing to see what these Brethren think of you after your botched assignment there. In the meantime, we may amuse ourselves with an unofficial trial, which shall greatly speed things along once our objective officials arrive." He turned to the assembled audience, "I invite you all back here tomorrow morning for what should be an enlightening and amusing affair."

Conrad gave Tristan a stricken, look but he shook his head in resignation, if Lyre was determined to go through with this, at least it would keep him out of trouble while they waited for the Queen to awaken or for someone with more authority to arrive. He tried to smile reassuringly at Arora, she gave him a glorious smile in return that told him he was loved and she was not afraid. The guards finally mustered their nerve and escorted him away. Conrad left immediately for Astoria while Lyre sent his secretary to Panmycea. The Queen was placed comfortably in her chambers and assiduously attended by her ladies, though there was little enough they could do.

The audience dispersed and rumors spread quickly around the city and surrounding countryside. The next morning, the chamber was filled with curious townsfolk, nothing this exciting had happened in recent memory. The Queen did not appear to either improve or worsen while Arora spent a lonely night at the inn. She tried to calm Taragon, but he was restless and sensed Tristan's unease. Tristan spent an uncomfortable and restless night in the Palace dungeon, the only prisoner currently being held therein. At the appointed time, Tristan was led out by two guards, his legs and hands securely chained. He was made to sit in a rickety chair facing the assembled gawkers, while Lyre, dressed in his best uniform, strolled importantly back and forth in front of the accused.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "let it be witnessed and affirmed by each of you that these proceedings are unofficial, in that they are not carried out by an objective party. But also let it be noted that the evidence presented and gathered herein may be used when such an official trial takes place, thereby speeding along the official trial and the execution of justice." He gave special emphasis to the word execution, as he grinned maliciously at Tristan, before continuing, "the man known to this body as Tristan, is hereby accused of traitorous acts against the Kingdom of Vespera, the Queen of Vespera, and the Order of the Unicorn. He also stands accused of the murder of one Count Cisco and potentially of two as yet unnamed others in the country of Westria. All witnesses are advised to tell the truth under penalty of fine or imprisonment. These accusations each hold the penalty of death." He finished with an eager smile.

He was finding far too much pleasure in the display, but he blamed Tristan for the sudden loss of his advantageous relationship with Cisco and held him in contempt because of the Queen's apparent favor of Tristan over himself when he was stationed in Vespera. He was more than happy to martyr Tristan, if only to please himself and rectify the injustice he felt done to himself by the man. It was more circus and stage show than trial, but the audience loved the drama so Lyre felt justified in indulging himself, and magnanimously allowed himself to be the first witness.

Lyre began, "about a year ago this man was sent to me by the Order with explicit instructions that he was to be trained in the arts of diplomacy and when ready, he was to be sent on to Astoria. His tenure in Vespera was short, as was his later term in Astoria. Whilst in Vespera, he was continually putting himself before the Queen and impinging upon my rights as his senior officer and as the head advisor from the Order to the Queen. He even stooped so far as to try seducing the Queen in her own chambers. He rode out of Vespera only moments ahead of the guards sent to capture him. He eluded their pursuit and escaped to Astoria, there his conduct must have been abominable, as it lasted only a short while before he was summarily kicked out of the Order and exiled from Astoria. He then fled to the lands west of the Impassable Mountains, where the dying Count revealed that he also committed murder and treason. He has returned from exile only to wreak havoc upon this peaceful country and its beautiful Queen, who now lies near death in her chambers. What vile spell this man has cast upon her I do not know, but this evil is of his doing and he must pay for it. He has murdered an innocent man, and he has destroyed any chance of the Queen's happiness should she recover. He has also set the peace and prosperity of this country back for what may prove to be decades."

It was all conjecture and theories, but from what little the audience knew, it could be the truth. Even if it was not, they found the whole tale fascinating. After Lyre finished his monologue, participants and observers of yesterday's events were called forward to tell of what they saw. By their varied accounts, it seemed that Tristan had infiltrated the honor guard, interrupted the ceremony, demanded that Count Cisco surrender, and then the Queen was thrown unconscious to the floor and Cisco was killed in the ensuing sword fight. The audience especially loved the part about Cisco dissolving into a puddle of black goo. The displaced guard was brought forward, he said that someone had stolen his clothes before the ceremony, had locked him in a room, and his cries for help went unheeded because everyone was at the wedding. As the 'trial' progressed, it became clear that Tristan had plotted to interrupt the ceremony and kill Cisco, though whether Cisco or Tristan had placed the spell upon the Queen was questioned, but Lyre chose not to spend too much time on that little matter.

The trial continued for several days, each day worse than the last. Arora watched in stunned horror as each witness described in detail things that had never happened. Tristan seemed to listen with a bored sort of patience, though the creativity of the witnesses seemed to amuse him. He would not be allowed to defend himself until the official trial. Each day Lyre observed the singer in the audience and was moved by her beauty and obvious distress. After the first day's proceedings, he summoned her to his quarters. She curiously appeared as directed and made her courtesies. Said he, "my dear, I see that you are greatly distressed by these proceedings. You must not be afraid because justice will be swiftly done and this vile matter put behind us. You need not fear the evil man who is now safely in custody."

"I see," replied she, "I thank you for your concern."

"It is ever my concern," preened Lyre, "when any innocent lady is troubled by anything that I may correct. Once this fiasco is behind us, perhaps you will allow me the honor of dining with you at a time convenient to yourself?"

"Thank you for the invitation," said she, "it will receive all the consideration it deserves." He smiled and bid her goodnight, very pleased with himself about the way things seemed to be progressing with the trial and the lady. She left feeling as if she needed to bathe.

### Chapter 17

Sooner than expected, a party arrived from Astoria. Six of the Brethren, in full armor that gleamed silver in the sun, astride their undisguised mounts, rode into the city with a very old, but distinguished lady in their midst, also astride a unicorn. The faces of the men were grim and the lady was stern as a Queen passing judgment. The sight of the seven unicorns alone caused many to stop and stare, but their riders also inspired many comment and question. Who were these strange and dangerous folk that could master such beasts? Lyre came rushing into the courtyard, breathless, with the appearance of having finished dressing in haste. The strangers halted their mounts; one of the men dismounted and handed the Lady from her saddle.

"Lyre?" she said in a regal voice.

"Yes, ah?" mumbled Lyre.

"I am the Lady of Astoria, leader of the Brethren," said she, "I have not left Astoria in a century. What is the meaning of this summons?"

"Summons?" gasped Lyre. He looked pleadingly at Conrad, who was one of the six accompanying the Lady; he found no solace there, only grim and stony silence. "I did not summon, ah you, My Lady," stuttered Lyre, whined he, "I merely asked that an objective official be sent to judge a pending case."

"It was as good as a summons," said she, "this matter concerns me greatly. Escort me to my chambers so that I may refresh myself and then I shall speak to this prisoner of yours." Lyre had little choice but to comply, though he begged her not to trouble herself by going down into the dungeons and bothering about such a minor problem. "Your Queen also lies in a state near death," continued she, "I shall attend her shortly." Lyre bowed and hurried ahead of the strange party, hoping the servants had prepared the rooms in time.

The Lady spent some little time recovering from the ride, they had pushed the unicorns for all the native speed they possessed. Once she was clean and rested, she demanded that Lyre take her to the Queen personally. The Queen's state was unchanged, she languished in a living death. The Lady's heart went out to the stricken woman, and she could feel a chill of evil upon entering the room. She took a small glass vial out of her robes and knelt beside the prone form. The Lady opened the vial, placed a single drop of clear fluid upon the Queen's lips, and color flared in her cheeks as she drew in a deep breath. Her eyes fluttered open and she glanced weakly around. "Rest now child," said the Lady gently. To those assembled there she said, "she will be many days recovering from this, but she will be fine. She needs rest, a little exercise, and much good food."

"What did you do?" asked the stunned Lyre.

"A unicorn's tear," said the Lady, "is very effective in driving away certain vile enchantments. Now I must see your prisoner immediately." It was quite a procession that made its way towards the dungeons, for the Lady's entire escort came, as did the desperate Lyre. Once they reached the dungeon, the men did a thorough sweep of the area and declared it secure. Lyre and her escort were to remain outside so the Lady might speak in private.

"Tristan?" said she. Tristan nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound, save for his public appearances and an occasional guard, he never had visitors.

He quickly stood, "my Lady?!" he said in surprise as he bowed, "what has brought you from Astoria?"

"You," said she wryly, "how do you get me into such situations?" Tristan tried to say something apologetic, but she laughed, "how are you?"

"I miss my wife and am tired of these farcical appearances I am forced to make on a daily basis, but otherwise I am as well as can be expected in such conditions," replied he.

"Is Arora well?" asked she.

"I see her daily at the trial, she seems to be in good spirits," said Tristan.

"I will speak with her tonight," said the Lady, "now tell me what has been happening. I have Conrad's view on things but I must hear yours." Tristan told her everything that had happened from the time he arrived in Vespera in pursuit of Cisco, after he had finished, she said, "this is all an unnecessary muddle, but I must wait until the officials arrive from Panmycea to finish it. I am sorry that you must remain here in the interim. I will have these daily appearances stopped however, and see if I can arrange some visiting privileges." He bowed in thanks and bid her goodnight. She was glad he was handling things so well, she only hoped the Order saw things her way. Lyre was aghast that she asked that the prisoner be allowed visitors, but he complied with her wishes; he was not surprised to learn that the daily mock trial must also cease. She spent the remaining time until the contingent from Panmycea arrived driving Lyre absolutely mad, he was afraid of her, immediately doing anything she asked of him. She found much joy in asking him to run all sorts of mundane errands; Lyre could not wait until the officials from the Order arrived. Tristan was greatly cheered by visits from his wife, Conrad, Pallin, Bristol, and the other Brethren present in Vespera.

Much to Lyre's joy, the officials from the Order finally arrive in Vespera, and it was none other than High Councilor Karly himself with an escort of twelve men. Lyre thought the High Councilor looked rather grumpy about having been sent on such an errand, all the better, perhaps the Councilor would act as a counterweight to that terrible Lady. Karly greeted Lyre coldly, then demanded, "what is all this about?"

Lyre nervously replied, "a vile traitor has been discovered and swift justice is needed." Karly grunted noncommittally and asked to be shown to his chambers. After he had refreshed himself, he grilled Lyre on the details. After that, he wished to see the prisoner and then to meet the much-fabled Lady of Astoria. Tristan was very happy to see Karly, plus several of the men in Karly's escort who had previously served under Tristan's command. Karly greeted him warmly, promising to have this fiasco finished quickly and asking after the details of what had happened. Tristan repeated what he had told the Lady.

After his interview with Tristan, Karly was escorted to the Lady, who was waiting in a large sitting room. She rose regally and bowed to the High Councilor. He did the same. "It is an honor to make your acquaintance," said she.

"I have heard much of you Lady," said Karly, "and the privilege is mine. Though I must say, you have deprived me of one of my finest officers."

She laughed and said, "he was merely on loan to you Councilor, he has been in my service for over a century."

Karly seemed stunned at the remark, but said, "I see. What think you of this whole affair?"

She smiled in grim amusement, "it is a needless waste of time as far as I am concerned. Tristan may not have used the most diplomatic method to bring this traitor to justice, but it seems the only sensible way he could have gone about it. I fear we are wasting time when we should be pursuing any more of these evil men who may be lurking about."

"I agree completely," said Karly. They talked for much of the afternoon and well into the night.

The morning of the official trial dawned bright and clear with a warmth in the wind that promised Spring's return rather than merely hinting of it. The officials assembled with their escorts and made an impressive display sitting in front of Tristan's rickety chair and facing the crowd. Tristan was to sit in the familiar chair with his back to the crowd and facing the judges. Lyre would officiate from the floor, as he felt necessary, he was certain that the day would turn out well for him and very badly for Tristan. He began, "ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you to this official trial. May justice be done."

Tristan was asked to tell his side of things, relaying his story to the judges and the audience. Lyre was then asked for his story and did the same. Pallin gave an account of their adventures in Westria. Conrad and Arora were then asked to tell their part of the tale. Lyre was aghast at their stories, he had never suspected Arora's involvement! A few more witnesses were called, but their stories conflicted and contradicted each other so much that they were dismissed. The Lady looked at Karly, who nodded, and they both stood.

The Lady said, "I find no reason for these proceedings and believe them to be a complete waste of time when we should be ferreting out the agents of this sinister Brotherhood."

"I agree," said Karly, "Tristan is hereby declared innocent of any and all charges. Lyre, you are hereby stripped of your rank and are to report to the next training unit to leave for the Northern Wilds. A new advisor will be assigned to Vespera in your place." Lyre looked mortified; Tristan looked pleased but not surprised.

A woman in the audience stood, her hood falling back to reveal the Queen, "should not I have some say in these matters?"

Karly and the Lady bowed, and then the Lady said, "of course. What is it you wish to say, your Highness?"

The Queen began, "ever since Cisco entered my presence I have not been thinking clearly, if at all. I thank you for freeing me of his influence Tristan, but you continue to baffle me. I once freely offered you the position Cisco nearly took by treachery; I would offer it to you again if I thought you would accept. What are you doing here if not on an errand for the Order or out of regard for me?"

Tristan looked questioningly to the Lady, who nodded, and he replied, "your Highness, I respect you greatly as a leader, but I have no feelings for you beyond those due a Queen and a Lady. As I no longer belong to the Order, that cannot be what brought me back to your land. But in the service of the Lady I trailed Cisco out of the Northern Wilds and found him intimately involved in the politics of your realm. I am glad I could be of service to you and your country, but it was at the Lady's command I came hither." He bowed respectfully and resumed his seat.

The Queen said, "I see. I will be sorry, again, to see you go, but such is life. Though I am not sorry to lose Lyre's 'services.' May I request Tristan's presence as advisor to my court in his stead?"

Karly said, "he is no longer under my command. Your wish is not mine to grant."

"Conrad will continue in his usual duties. Tristan's talents would be wasted in diplomacy," laughed the Lady. The trial was adjourned to the delight of all, save Lyre and a couple bloodthirsty members of the audience.

The Lady and Councilor Karly spoke much that day and as they parted, he said, "it is an interesting proposal and I think the High Council will be pleased." She smiled in reply. Tristan wondered at the exchange. After many goodbyes were said, both parties departed. Tristan and Arora traveled home with the Lady and her escort. Karly left one of his men to fill Lyre's post and personally saw to it that Lyre reported to his new unit.

After much debate, it was decided by the High Council that any member of the Order who wished to visit Astoria and partake of their educational opportunities was encouraged to do so. If they felt so moved, they could even take the Oath and become a member of both organizations. The Lady and Karly felt it would be of benefit to both groups. Word was also sent to members of both groups in all lands to be watchful for any more members of the Brotherhood and to stop whatever plans they had in progress.

Outside the storm raged and the Eastern Sea battered itself against the jagged cliffs. Within the aging castle, a man sat in darkness starring at a basin of black water. The surface rippled, as what appeared to be a black, reptilian head with flaming eyes appeared, said the creature, "these Brethren are becoming a nuisance."

"Yes, my lord," said the man, "I can arrange for many of them to be eliminated."

"No," said the creature, "that would only make them martyrs. But if it can be done quietly and secretly you may dispose of those that make pests of themselves." The man bowed. The creature continued, "trying to trick our way into leadership is not working. We have lost agents on many fronts. Perhaps we need to try something more subtle? Perhaps we can use this beloved Order of yours?"

"The Order?" gasped the man, "They are falling in with these accursed Brethren, what use are they to us now?"

The creature smiled, "a little apostasy and false doctrine may be just the thing to take men's minds off of the Brethren and their ideas."

"Yes," laughed the man, "I shall see to it."

"Good," hissed the serpent, as the image faded.

General Vrill stepped away from the basin and summoned a servant. He had many letters to write and plans to make. Outside the storm raged on.

### Book II

" _Be thou my wisdom,_

and thou my true word,

Thou ever with me,

and I with thee Lord.

Thou my great Father,

I thy true son,

Thou ever with me,

_and I with thee one_."

'Be Thou My Vision'

Irish Hymn

### Chapter 1

The rider approached cautiously along the trail; the mare caught a strange scent on the wind and froze. An instant later, an arrow buried itself firmly in the tree in front of which she would have been standing had she kept moving. She reared in protest, beginning to backup, but before she could take more than a step, an arrow buzzed through the air and embedded itself in her master's chest, he was dead before he hit the ground; the mare snorted and fled into the moonlit woods. The archer waited a long time before approaching his prey, the escape of the unicorn was irritating but not important, they were a nuisance, but without her rider, she would not be bothering him again. Sometimes the beasts turned to defend or avenge their fallen masters, but this one must have sensed her rider's demise and chose not to risk her life in a useless pursuit; a stallion would probably have stayed to fight, at least if he was partnered with a Warrior or Messenger, but the man had been a Teacher. The assassin carefully approached the fallen rider but he had nothing to fear, for the man was dead and already starting to stiffen. He dragged the body off the path and went about the tedious business of hiding it. The man had been interfering with his assignment and had to be removed, but only if it could be done secretly.

The mare stood outside the gates of Astoria blowing hard, and the Lady was summoned immediately. The empty saddle clung forlornly to the mare's back at an odd angle, but there was no sign of her rider, at least this time they knew something had happened. This was the third agent of the Brethren, stationed in the East, to go missing in the last six months. The other two had simply disappeared, along with their unicorns. The Lady patted the grieving creature's neck in understanding; she hated losing her people too, but it was a risk they all took in service to the Master. Her message delivered, the unicorn left the city and retreated into the depths of the forest to mourn her loss, when she was ready, she might again bear another rider, if she could overcome her grief and risk having it happen again. The rumors from the Eastern Realms were disturbing at best, and the loss of three of her field agents stationed there meant something was dreadfully amiss. She suspected the Brotherhood of the Serpent was behind it, what exactly, she was not sure but she felt they had a hand in the rumors and were the reason three of her servants now lay in unmarked graves. She turned quickly on her heel and returned to the castle, already lost deep in thought.

Tristan cantered his mount along the edge of the field, watching his men go through various drills and maneuvers, the last six months he had been pushing them hard. Once, overseeing the training of eight men would have made him cringe, but now it was routine. With so many new recruits, the need for competent teaching and leadership was desperate, especially since the Lady opened the Brethren's training program to members of the Order of the Unicorn. While many of the students from the Order did eventually take their Oath and become part of the Brethren, the influx of students stretched the Brethren's resources more than they had anticipated.

The other concern that quietly haunted many of the Brethren was that the line between the Brethren and the Order, as individual entities, was becoming blurred in the minds of people, common and noble alike. The line was quite clear to those within, but those with only a passing acquaintance with either group often thought them one and the same, which meant that if the Order said something, it could be construed as having come from the Brethren, and if one was not intimately acquainted with the workings of both, it could become quite confusing. This was part of the problem in the East: people were hearing many things from many sources and no one was sure what to believe, so each person simply chose what they liked best and considered that the truth. While the Brethren were bound by their Oath to the Master and His Truth, the Order could say whatever they wished whenever they wanted.

Tristan's men finished their assigned drill as he rode up and congratulated them on their flawless performance. They rode back towards the city, ready for the evening meal and pleased with the day's work. Tristan was hungry, but he was far more anxious for the company of his wife. Before he had married, he had never felt uncomfortable spending most of his time alone or in the presence of other men, now he felt somehow deprived or neglected when forced to spend time away from his wife; there was just something...comforting...about your wife's presence, he had never before realized what he was missing! Upon arrival in the courtyard of the castle, they sent the unicorns off to graze, or whatever it is they do in their free hours, while the men headed in for supper, but Tristan was stopped by a servant and told the Lady requested his presence immediately. Following the servant, he was admitted to the small audience chamber in which she sat. After making his bows, he saw that his wife and Pallin were also present, and they all exchanged warm smiles, before taking the seat the Lady indicated, giving her his full attention.

She began, "Tristan, I have desperate need of you in the field. We have lost three agents assigned to the Eastern Realms within the last six months; rumors flow abundantly from those countries saying truth is irrelevant and the Brethren's message is just as good, or bad, as any other, including that preached by the proselytes of Kerfluffle the Ogre!"

A storm of emotions played across Tristan's face as he assimilated her words: sadness at the thought of missing his wife while on a field assignment, grief over his lost colleagues, curiosity over the strange rumors, excitement at doing something besides drilling new recruits, and amusement at mention of the Ogre, all warred for dominance on his face and in his mind. He finally calmed the maelstrom and looked seriously at the Lady, asking, "what would you have of me?"

She smiled warmly at him, "always ready to serve, however impossible the task I set you! You, Arora, and Pallin will ride east to sort out whatever is happening to the Brethren and Truth itself." Tristan's heart leapt for joy at the thought of traveling with his wife again, and Pallin was always an agreeable companion. She continued, "Arora is to be the new bard in the court of Arca, Pallin is to travel about as an official representative of the Brethren seeking what information he can find and correcting any untruths he encounters, and you are to travel about as well, though not as an official member of the Brethren, you may need to infiltrate the darker and seedier places that Pallin cannot go as a recognized member of the Brethren. You three are to cooperate in discovering who is responsible for our disappearing colleagues and unleashing this swarm of half-truths drowning those lands. Arora will be our unofficial eyes amongst the nobility and the court, Pallin will be our official eyes elsewhere, and Tristan will be our secret eyes where the others cannot go. You will each be in constant danger of the dire fate that has already consumed three of our number; do you understand and accept this mission?" All three nodded their understanding and eager acceptance. She looked fondly at the three of them and said proudly, "then may the Master ride with you." They stood, bowed, and quietly filed out of the room.

They secured their portion of the evening meal and sought a quiet table where they could talk without disturbance. Pallin's first question was, "who is Kerfluffle the Ogre?"

Tristan laughed, "Kerfluffle is the ogre that supposedly eats small children who do not obey their parents. I would say he has little to say that is worthwhile, but if his counsel is as good as any, we may as well all hang up our swords!" Pallin had been a half-starved stable boy when Tristan first encountered him on a return trip to Astoria, the child of a poor mother and unknown father, he had had little parental attention in his short life. Tristan had taken pity on him and brought him back to Astoria, where he eventually took his Oath and became the bold warrior who now sat beside them.

"When do we leave?" asked Pallin, smiling wryly at this great philosophical discovery.

"We leave as early tomorrow as we can," replied Tristan, "we travel together until we reach Arca, at which point Arora will set off on her own while you and I will continue together until we reach the village of Darcy's Spring in southern Arca. There we must split up and stagger our entrance into the inn, so that no one suspects we are traveling together, after that, only the Master knows."

They talked for several hours, but eventually retired, as they must rise early. Pallin slipped quickly off to his room, but Tristan and Arora opted for a quiet stroll on the moonlit lawn before going to bed. "It will be strange," said Tristan sadly, "not seeing you almost every day."

"Yes," agreed his wife, with an affectionate smile, "but we knew these days were coming, it is what and who we are after all. Our teaching assignments these last months have been a nice break from constant travel, but the Lady has directed and we must go."

"Always ready for duty," laughed Tristan proudly, "one of the many things I love about you! I will miss you keenly, but at least we will be working in the same country rather than on opposite sides of the continent." She smiled far too much for the weakness of his humor, but that was another thing he loved about her. They walked along in the moonlight, enjoying one another's company and wondering what the future held.

Morning came far too early that day, but just as the sun was peeking over the distant hills, they set forth on their journey. Though they traveled quickly, as the Lady's need was urgent, it was a pleasant ride for the three companions. All too soon, they found themselves upon the borders of Arca, where Arora turned east towards the capital city of the same name, while Tristan and Pallin lingered a day at the inn to give her a head start. The following morning, they set out for the village of Darcy's Spring, the last known location of one of the fallen Brethren.

As they rode, Pallin worked up his nerve to finally ask, "so what is it like being married?"

Tristan smiled fondly at the boy and said, "nice."

"That's it?" asked Pallin in astonishment.

"Well," continued Tristan, "it is much, much more than that, but that sums it up pretty well, at least assuming you are married to the right woman. It is not all sunshine and roses, especially being married to someone who has had ninety years to get used to doing things her own way. It takes a lot of learning, humility, and compromise, but eventually you figure things out and it is, well...nice! It is a lot like discovering a best friend you never knew was missing all those years."

"I do not understand any of that," said Pallin in wonder and no little dread.

"No," said Tristan, with an amused chuckle, "it is something you must discover for yourself."

Pallin did not dare ask the other question that was suddenly burning in his mind and tried desperately to think of another topic, happily settling on, "what exactly is our plan once we reach the village?"

"You are to do as you were instructed by the Lady," said Tristan, "which is to correct some of these misconceptions in the minds of those you meet and see if you can discover anything about our missing colleagues. I will watch the reactions of those around you and see if I can find any interesting people. I fear that during this mission I may have to openly oppose or antagonize you, there will be no truth behind it, but I fear you may still be hurt by it."

Pallin looked at him thoughtfully, saying blandly, "if it is for the sake of the mission, I can certainly handle it," but then ruined this display of maturity by laughing wryly, "of course if you really meant any of it you would violate your Oath and succumb to your very advanced age."

"Not a pleasant thought," laughed Tristan grimly, "but true nonetheless." As a result of taking the Oath, the Brethren were gifted with lifespans sometimes reaching several centuries, if the Oath was violated or revoked, the man's natural age would soon catch up with him and leave him dead or quite decrepit, as Tristan was over a hundred years old, and would not survive the event.

They rode on and talked of many things upon their long road, just like old times, but at last they reached the village wherein their adventures might begin in earnest but so too would their sundering come. Tristan rode on ahead and took a room at the inn, while Pallin lingered under the cover of the trees, arriving at the inn as the sun set. Tristan sat alone in a corner of the common room, clothed as a simple traveler; Pallin walked in and took a place by the fire, wearing his uniform. Several other men were scattered about room, either guests at the inn or locals who enjoyed the company and news found in such places. They glanced curiously at Pallin, perhaps hoping for a bit of news from such an interesting stranger.

"And to which tribe or circus do you belong?" croaked an old man from the other side of the room.

Pallin smiled wryly at the rumpled old man and said, "I am of the Brethren and sworn to the Master and the Truth."

"Truth, bah," sniffed the old man in disgust, "I have had enough 'truth' to last me a lifetime. If it is not one idiot chattering away about something, it is another."

"I do not chatter," smiled Pallin amusedly.

The old man continued, "one man says you can only drink so much wine, you cannot enjoy the company of a woman, and can only have your tea so warm if you want to please this master character. Another says that truth is whatever you think it is. Yet someone else says we are all just supposed to be happy, so do whatever it is that makes you happy, and if your neighbor needs help you can think about helping him, at least if it does not cause you too much trouble. Someone else says if we are good enough this master-creature will bless us and make us all rich. Another one says there is no master or any other 'superior' being and we are all on our own so we might as well do as we like. So which one are you?"

"I am none of those," said Pallin quietly, "if there is no Master or 'superior' being, then from where does the Common Law spring and why are there any laws at all? Why is everything not anarchy or tyranny? That there is order implies there is someone who has gone to the trouble of putting things in order and most believe this someone is the Master. Of course, laws and rules can be taken too far and need to be balanced with such things as love, freedom, mercy, forgiveness, and justice. Just obeying a set of laws or rules does not please anyone: it is the intent of the heart that matters. Blessing or lack thereof do not come in response to our behavior, good or bad, but come according to the plans laid for each man's life, though often we must suffer the consequences of our own ill-choices or those of others; it is our responses to bane and blessing that truly matter, not our relative wealth or poverty therein. The rains fall on the fields of rich and poor alike, those of the good and the evil; blessing is not hindered or helped by our wealth or want of 'goodness.' If each man looked out only for his own good, the world would be a very sad and desperate place, not to mention meaningless. If we all pursue 'happiness' and then die, what is the point? Our lives were made for something greater than ourselves; we all seek purpose and meaning, and that is found in helping and loving others to the best of our abilities." The man was stunned into silence, he never thought such a young man could put his ideas forward so concisely in the face of open cynicism.

Tristan asked from the corner, "how do we know this 'truth' of yours is the actual Truth and not just another dead end or needless conjecture or that perhaps there is no truth or maybe there are many truths?"

Pallin smiled good-humoredly at Tristan and said, "I am glad you ask my friend. Do you know how to milk a cow?"

Tristan gave him a puzzled look, saying, "yes but why are you changing the subject? Do you not have an answer?"

Pallin caught the eyes of each man present in the common room, then confidently began, "we all assume that milk comes from somewhere. Most of us know it comes from cows, or other assorted female beasts; we also know that there is only one way to acquire milk: you must take a bucket and pull at the teat. You know milk does not come by yelling in her ear, scratching her back, or pumping her tail, so if we can believe something as simple as milk only comes from one place and is collected by one particular method, why is it so hard to believe that something as complicated as Truth and order are real, arise from a single source, and are found in a single manner? One would assume the more complicated something is, the harder it is to get by random chance, from multiple sources, or by various means, which implies that order and law had to come from somewhere and that someone is the Master."

"That is certainly one way to put it," said Tristan, apparently impressed. What had happened to that ill-spoken, scrawny child he had rescued from that dismal stable? Out of the corner of his eye, Tristan noticed a sharply dressed man eyeing Pallin with strong dislike, innately knowing the fellow would bear watching.

Pallin spent the next hour answering questions asked by the curious amongst his audience. On several occasions, Tristan made it obvious that he disagreed with the boy's views on varying matters with questions like, "how do you know for sure?" or, "You seriously believe that?" Pallin responded patiently and cheerfully to each question or misconception, most of his listeners left with something to think about, though Tristan remained Pallin's most vociferous adversary throughout. The sharply dressed man said nothing, but watched the exchange with interest. After most of the men had retired to their beds, the mysterious man approached Tristan's table, asking if he could buy Tristan a drink. Tristan nodded cordially as the man took a seat and the serving girl brought Tristan a mug of wine.

"Have you encountered these Brethren before?" asked the man fervently.

"Here and there," replied Tristan.

"Are you as skeptical of their message and intentions as I?" asked the man.

"How skeptical are you?" asked Tristan.

The man replied, "skeptical enough to wonder how anyone can honestly believe all the nonsense they do or live up to the standards they claim to uphold. It is humanly impossible."

"Humanly impossible, yes," said Tristan, "but this Master of theirs supposedly helps them in their quest to uphold His laws and precepts. What do you think of that?"

"I think," snarked the man, "that this master of theirs is a real creature, but I also know that he isn't the only option, for there are other such beings, some who surpass even his supposed greatness. How great can he be if he leaves all his ambitions and purposes to be accomplished by mere men? There are powers out there that lend themselves greatly to those who seek more than their share of this pitiful mortal state. Power can be found by those who truly seek it."

"You sound as quasi-mystical as the Brethren," laughed Tristan.

"This is no joke," growled the man, "if you wish to know more, help me rid the world of yet another of these pesky Brethren. They are forever getting in the way and causing trouble."

"What must I do?" asked Tristan quietly.

Tristan ordered two mugs of wine and carried them to the table where Pallin sat alone, seemingly deep in thought, "I am sorry for the skepticism earlier," said Tristan, "please accept my apologies."

Pallin nodded his acceptance and took the proffered mug., asked he, "what can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to know a bit more about you and your organization," said Tristan.

"I see," grinned Pallin, trying very hard to maintain a neutral mien. They spent the next half hour talking over mundane gibberish concerning Pallin's business in the area and generalities about the Brethren.

In parting, Tristan asked after his companion's own plans for the morrow, said Pallin, "I leave at sunrise tomorrow and am headed towards the city of Arca by the main road."

"I should probably let you go to bed then," said Tristan, "I wish to thank you for your time and again apologize for my interference."

"There is nothing to apologize for, my friend," said Pallin warmly.

"Before I go, I do have a rather peculiar question to ask," said Tristan in feigned abashedness.

"Yes?" said Pallin, with a slight grin.

Tristan whispered in his ear, "the man in the fine clothing has offered to let me kill you. He wants to know your time and route of departure. I suggest you take Taragon tomorrow instead of your own mount, that way I can alert him to your danger and he can keep you both safe."

Pallin forced a laugh and said aloud, "why such hesitancy? It is no great secret that the Brethren ride unicorns. May the Master ride with you my friend!" Tristan smiled blandly at his friend before returning to his table. Pallin shortly retired, leaving Tristan alone with the strange man.

"Well done," said the stranger, "but what was all that nonsense at the end?"

"I was just curious," said Tristan with a foolish grin, "and trying to put the man at ease."

"I see," replied the man, "meet me tomorrow ere sunrise and we shall see what comes of it." Tristan nodded, retreating to his own room.

Early the next morning, Tristan met the man at the arranged place and time, patiently enduring the damp and cold while they waited in ambush for Pallin. The other man was a most unpleasant companion at such an hour, and no doubt at all other times as well. As the sun finally made its appearance, the crunch of hooves on leaves carried on the wind. A unicorn could travel in absolute silence if need be, thus Tristan knew this one meant to be heard. He sensed Taragon approaching and smiled in anticipation, happy that Pallin had heeded his warning. The man nodded silently at Tristan, who then drew back the string of his bow, ready to loose an arrow at the approaching rider. As the pair came into view, Tristan mentally bid the unicorn to halt. Taragon obeyed immediately, then Tristan bid him run.

Taragon snorted in disgust but hastily retreated as the arrow flew true, landing where Pallin's heart should have been had the unicorn continued his forward journey uninterrupted. Tristan then allowed the natural results of his actions to ensue, he felt the stallion's rage and heard his scream of challenge, even as the unmistakable rasp of metal on metal of Pallin's sword leaving his scabbard met their ears; the thunder of charging hooves broke the hitherto eerie silence of dawn. Nothing is as terrifying as an enraged unicorn, save perhaps an irritated dragon. Tristan and the stranger fled from their impending doom, escaping into a deep tangle of brush and rock that would slow the charging beast. They ran for twenty minutes with the pair in distant pursuit until Tristan bid Taragon to gradually slow and give up the chase. He complied, though with much confusion, but such was his trust in his master. The pair ran on for a few more minutes until they were sure they were unpursued.

Tristan turned on the stranger in mock-fury, "what was that? We were nearly run down by that awful beast! I thought this was just a little chore that had to be done before breakfast? The Brethren are responsible for my current situation in life, but I never thought to risk so much for the sake of so little!"

The stranger sat down, Trap could hardly laugh between his gasps for air, "you have lost nothing and gained much! You are a good marksman and would have hit your target had the beast not caught some hint of us and ruined your shot. The man lives, for now. It was no great worry to me if he survived or not, though it would have been a pleasure to sink an arrow into his arrogant heart, but we may still have a chance to do just that. He goes to Arca, so must I. If he becomes a problem he will be dealt with. The point of this little 'chore' was to test your heart and see what kind of man you are. Apparently you are not afraid to kill, even one so pious as the Brethren make themselves out to be. I am in need of an assistant and last night I felt something about you, that perhaps you might be the man I was seeking." Tristan gave him an odd look. He continued, "you think I plot murder with every random stranger I meet?" Tristan smiled ruefully, but shook his head, wondering where this was going. "There is something about you," said the man, "that I find fascinating. Stick with me and you will go far!" Tristan smiled grimly, he could not imagine anyone he would rather spend less time with!

### Chapter 2

Once they had caught their breath, they quickly returned to the inn, but in their absence, Pallin had returned Taragon to the stable and retrieved his mare. Taragon waited impatiently in his stall, disguised once more as a normal horse, and laid back his ears in irritation at the morning's events, irked that he his master felt inclined to use him for target practice. "You have done well, lad," grinned Tristan at the annoyed unicorn, "we must pretend again to be that which we are not, and some of what will be asked of us will in nowise be pleasant, but still our duty remains." The creature seemed mollified and whickered in anticipation of their next adventure, meeting outside after tacking up their horses.

"He looks a handful," said Trap, "have you ever thought of having him gelded?"

"He has his moments," said Tristan with a bright laugh, "but most of the time he behaves himself." Taragon laid back his ears at such a discussion, but made no other comment.

They rode in silence for the entire day, camping for the night in a secluded place, Tristan at last breaking the silence, "what are these 'other powers' you speak of and what do you know of this so-called Master and other such beings?"

Trap smiled derisively, "I thought you were not interested in 'quasi-mysticism,' or was I mistaken?"

"I am trapped in the middle of this," sighed Tristan, "unless I miss my guess you will kill me if I do not cooperate?"

Trap nodded, smiling villainously, "you see much. That is a valuable skill if used properly, if abused, you can guess the rest. I will tell you more of these 'powers' as we travel, but tonight I will give you an overview." He began his tale, which was eerily similar to that which Tristan had heard so many years ago during his own initial training with the Brethren, but as with all things touched by the Enemy, it was twisted and deformed into a dark and hideous shadow, stricken of all beauty and hope: in the infancy of man, he was innocent and stunted, the Master had made him and all the world, but kept from his greatest creation the knowledge of true power. An aspiring warlord discovered the path to true power and in the attempt to secure it for himself, via the life of his daughter, the Master tried to intervene, offering his own life in exchange for the girl's.

The bargain was struck and the Master slain. Man's innocence came to an abrupt end, and all mankind awakened to the possibility of controlling their own destinies. While the warlord was overthrown, others rose to take his place and those who sought True Power could find it. In exchange for their meager lives, they could acquire true knowledge and power beyond mortal imagining in service to the one who overthrew the Master. Trap added that the Brethren claimed a similar origin story, except their tale tells that the Master was not captive to the chains of death and came forth from the grave in triumph, adding a little fable to the text as to the origin of the unicorn and that the Master sometimes appears to mortals in the form of one of the cursed beasts. Whether he still lives or not, the Master was apparently not strong enough to overthrow his adversary completely, thus the Brethren still tell the tale that he has retreated from interfering directly in human affairs, save through his people and the choices they make, while the power that overthrew the Master has no such qualms in appearing to advise and direct the actions of those who serve him.

"Well?" asked the man, as his tale wound down.

"That is quite a story," agreed Tristan, "I am either in league with a madman or someone who is confident in his plans, and I do not doubt your sanity. How does one go about 'seeking' this other power? It sounds rather dangerous."

"You will not have to make any hurried decisions," said Trap, "but you must do as you are told and follow my lead. Previously, various associates of mine have tried to influence their way into political power, hoping to gain control over certain nations and armies, but the results were disastrous, once the Brethren figured out what we were up to. Our new objective is to so dilute 'the Truth,' as the Brethren call it, that they lose their ability to influence the common people and the powers that move nations. Where force does not work, confusion will suffice. Our main ally in this task will be the so-called Order of the Unicorn, many of whom are now sworn to the Brethren, but the others can be used to say whatever we choose to put in their mouths. The common people cannot tell the Order from the Brethren, and as the line between one organization and the other has already begun to blur, and of their own doing too!, it will be beautifully chaotic." Tristan had to admit it was a good plan, though he still did not understand completely how it was to be accomplished, but then that was what he was here to discover. The Lady's plans were working far too well, he thought uneasily, again wondering what would come of the current partnership between the Order and the Brethren, and what his own alliance with this dastardly man would reveal, hopefully Pallin and Arora were having a more pleasant time of it!

Pallin rode to Arca without incident, settling at an inn on the edge of town. He would apply to the King on the morrow, but the majority of his time would be spent among the common people, for it was Arora's job to keep an eye on the nobility. He still did not understand what exactly transpired between Tristan and the stranger, he had had no control whatsoever over Taragon, the whole scene had been of Tristan's contrivance. Tristan was too good a shot to miss with that arrow unless he intended to, which meant that the assassination attempt must have been some sort of test, one Tristan felt he needed to pass in order to further the Lady's plans. If that was the case, then Tristan was walking a very dangerous line: he would be killed if he failed to obey his new master and if he violated his Oath, he would certainly die.

Arora had arrived in Arca several days before Pallin. After a brief demonstration for the King and all the Court, she was welcomed as the new Court Bard and then allowed to retire to her quarters to recover from her journey. Her duties were to attend court and any other public functions and entertain as needed. She was also to present herself to the King and any of the nobility in residence at the palace that felt they needed a little music, entertainment, or cheering up. They kept her quite busy, as she was a talented musician and the nobles were a very needy group of individuals, whose sole focus in life was their own welfare. Once she began to play, she might as well be part of the furniture or one of the servants, for as her music helped them to relax, people forgot she was even there and talked on endlessly about various plots, romances, and intrigues. Arora found it all rather tedious, but the nobility found an endless fascination in the topic, but amongst all their inane babble, she neither heard nor saw anything that suggested a sinister plot to undermine the Brethren.

She occasionally chatted with Bristol, who was the official Advisor to the King for both the Brethren and the Order, but she spent as much or more time speaking with the various other representatives to the court, so as not to arouse suspicion. She missed Tristan terribly, but he had his duties and she hers, though his adventures must be far more exciting, and dangerous, than her own. Several days after her arrival, Pallin presented himself before the King. He did not spend much, if any time at court, but as a courtesy wished to apprise the king of his presence in the city. The King really did not care one way or another about yet another adherent to whatever doctrine or organization he claimed. There was already such a confusing array of viewpoints currently expressed in Arca on every imaginable subject, what was one more? Arora felt herself in the heart of a philosophical maelstrom; they had certainly found the center of the rumors and the source of the Lady's concern, whatever philosophical confusion might be spreading across the world had its epicenter in Arca, but from whence did it spring?

The King loved to listen to philosophers, lawyers, poets, academics, and any other great, or seemingly great, thinkers he could find. It was not that he was such a great thinker himself, but he felt smarter by listening to others who were or claimed to be. What he truly believed himself, no one knew or really cared, for in Arca, it seemed that one could think what one liked and say whatever one wanted as long as one did not force it upon others unwillingly. Everyone was willing to listen to almost anything, though what was said really had no impact on anyone else, as each person already had their own version of 'truth' and was contemptuous of other views, save for a slight academic curiosity. For all of the intellectual noise floating about there was actually very little of worth said. The King, nor everyone else, really did not care to distinguish the Brethren from the Order, and hence the need for a dual representative, and what one group thought, said, or believed, was pretty much assumed to be the same thing, and who would care if they were wrong?

The relatively short ride to Arca felt one of the longest of Tristan's life, the man with whom he kept company was altogether evil, though in a frighteningly practical sort of way. Talking to him, you would have no trouble imagining him as someone's brother, cousin, friend, or husband: just an everyday person. But deep down in the core of his being there was no concern for anyone, just his own selfish desire for power, everything he did or said was determined by whatever actions he felt would be the most beneficial to his current and future plans. He was a cold, calculating individual who made no decisions based on emotions or feelings, for he did not seem to have any. He found amusement in various situations and enjoyment in certain activities but it was only a superficial, transient feeling, often of a cynical or derisive nature, that never touched his heart; there was nothing of joy, hope, gratitude, or any other such 'frivolous' sentiments about him.

His only motivation in life was acquiring as much power and status as he could, no matter the cost to himself or others. Tristan found nothing at all in common with the man, and often found himself wondering how anyone could go through life so unaffected by other people, the beauties of nature, and so indifferent to all that is good and wonderful in the wide world. It was as if he forbade himself to feel either love or hate, good feelings or bad. He was indifferent to everything and everyone unless they got in his way or could advance his goals. Tristan knew that he was simply a tool to the man: a hammer to be thrown aside if broken or unneeded. He had been a man of duty most of his life, but never had he felt that he was simply one more spoke in the wheel of another's machinations. He had never lacked a sense of dignity in his work, but Trap sucked all worth and joy out of everything around him. Previously, his enemies were at least able to hate him, this man seemed incapable of even showing that much concern; he was human in form but humanity was not counted among his traits.

Since Tristan had little to say, Trap did most of the talking, speaking often, though never with much depth, on the various ways to achieve power and what could be attained if one abandoned concern over the trifling worth of others. He spoke little of himself, his current plans, or Tristan's role in things to come; when questioned about such things, he merely shrugged. But on one occasion, he did ask Tristan, "you mentioned that the Brethren are responsible for your current situation in life, how so?"

Tristan replied slowly, carefully framing his answer, "after the death of my parents, I became a thief to survive. I was caught and the Brethren had a great influence on how matters played out afterwards. I ended up forever roaming the world, never finding a place to rest; their meddling made me what I am today." In reality, the Brethren were the only reason he even survived, without their help he would have died in a prison mine within a year of his capture. They were the reason he was in his current situation, just not in the way Trap would see it.

Trap smiled coldly, "then I think you would be happy at the recent change in your fortunes?"

"I suppose," said Tristan, "though I still wonder what we are about?"

"You will see soon enough," snapped Trap, ending the conversation ere it had begun.

The morning they were to ride into Arca, Trap handed Tristan a bundle of clothes as they were breaking camp. "What is this?" asked Tristan curiously.

"Just put it on," hissed Trap. Tristan unrolled the bundle and found a uniform he knew far too well. No matter where he went or what he did, he never seemed able to take off the uniform of the Order of the Unicorn for very long. He grinned wryly at the thing, before doing as he was bidden.

As they rode, Tristan ventured to ask, "what do you know of the Brethren?"

Trap gave him an irritated look but said, "as much as anyone I suppose. They claim to have some sort of oath to this Master of theirs that they claim must be kept at all costs. They have some sort of mind-control over their mounts; it is well known that unicorns are smart for beasts but are nonetheless unthinking animals. Their main headquarters seems to be in Astoria and their leader is known as 'the Lady.' They travel the world interfering in everyone's business and preaching their so-called truth, though they do have an excellent training program and produce some of the greatest musicians, warriors, and scholars in the world. That is about all that is known of them to me. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," said Tristan, desperately hiding a smile, "I want to know as much as I can before dealing with another one."

Trap rode silently through the streets of Arca with Tristan close beside him, said he, "you are now an unofficial member of the Order of the Unicorn."

"Are you an official member?" asked Tristan, again quashing an irksome smile.

Trap smirked and said, "I have my connections."

"The Order is bound to have a representative to the King," said Tristan.

"Of course," said the other, "and we are here to replace him."

"What if he will not cooperate?" asked Tristan.

"Then you get to deal with him," smiled Trap in anticipation, "that is what minions are for." Tristan grimaced, but did not ask any more questions.

They approached the main palace gate, dismounting that the guards might more easily question their intentions. Trap presented a copy of his orders to the guards, told his brief tale, and they were allowed to pass. Servants came to take their horses while another led them to the King's audience chamber. The King was seated on a throne at one end of the chamber while various nobles, lords, generals, and advisors stood or sat along either side, leaving open a center aisle, Trap approached confidently and gave the King a minimal bow. Tristan walked some distance behind and gave a more formal bow, but remained silent.

Trap did all the talking, "your Majesty, I bring you greetings from the High Council of the Order of the Unicorn; I shall be the Order's official advisor to your Majesty."

The king looked a little confused and said, "do I not already have an advisor from your Order? Brindle...or whoever you are, what is going on here?"

Bristol emerged from the crowd of courtiers and stood before the King. He bowed and said, "your Majesty, I have received no notice of such a change." He glanced curiously at the newcomer and Tristan.

"Here are my official orders," said Trap, handing them to Bristol.

He glanced at what appeared to be genuine documents and said, "I see that I am to be replaced immediately by this man, but I do not understand why."

"Well," said the king, indifferently, "you had best figure it out amongst yourselves. I really do not care who 'advises' me, as I never really listen to anything you say anyway. Arora! Some music!" The three men quickly moved out of the middle of the hall and into a secluded corner to talk. Tristan peered longingly over his shoulder as his wife began to play, she gave him a small, loving smile and continued her song.

"I do not understand," said Bristol, "I should have received some word that I was to be replaced. Where is my next assignment to be?" He glanced curiously at Tristan but said nothing of their acquaintance.

"I do not know," said Trap, "perhaps the message was lost or delayed, things happen. I just know that I am to assume this post immediately."

"And what of me?" asked Bristol.

"I do not care," smiled Trap in cruel indifference, "just go away and do not bother me."

"I can at least remain as the Lady's representative to the King," said Bristol grimly.

"The Lady?" asked Trap.

"Did you not know I was a dual representative for both the Order and the Brethren?" replied Bristol in quiet triumph.

"I see," growled Trap, "perhaps that is the reason for your dismissal? Perhaps the High Council feared a conflict of interest? You will have to take it up with them."

"I will," said Bristol, who bowed to them coldly and walked away.

Trap whispered to Tristan, "he will become a problem. I had no idea he represented both groups, perhaps I can do the same? The King will not know the difference and the nobles do not care. This Bristol must be disposed of, I think that will be your first official task as my apprentice."

"Apprentice?" gasped Tristan.

"I told you I needed an assistant," said Trap with a cold smile, "if you work out as well as I hope, you could go far under my guidance."

"But to whom or what am I apprenticing myself?" asked Tristan.

Trap glanced around cautiously but there was no one within earshot, "why to the Brotherhood of the Serpent."

"What!?" squawked Tristan, in quite unfeigned surprise, he had suspected as much but it was quite a shock to realize he was apprenticing with the nefarious group. He had fought these evil men and chased them halfway across the world, never had he expected to be working closely with them!

"The real power in the world," said Trap, "the Brethren are nothing compared to us."

They found a place to stand amongst the courtiers and pretended to listen to the music, but each was so busy with his own thoughts, a dragon could have waltzed through the room with neither noticing. After Arora had played as much as the King wanted for the moment, a philosopher was brought forth who spent the balance of the day spouting nonsense. What a tedious way to spend a day, let alone a lifetime! Tristan suddenly pitied Bristol and Arora, though he would not wish his current position on either of them for very different reasons. After the court was dismissed, everyone retreated to their rooms for the evening; a servant found Tristan and Trap and led them to their assigned quarters.

Once they were alone, Trap said, "I think this Bristol needs to disappear tonight, and secretly. Can you handle that?"

"I will see to it that he is not here at sunrise," said Tristan, as a cold fist clenched his heart.

"Oh yes," said Trap viciously, "I want evidence that he has been permanently dealt with."

Tristan nodded dully, grabbed his weapons, and left the room. Tristan found a servant, who took him to Bristol's quarters, where he knocked on the door. "Who is it?" came a muffled voice from within.

"I have come to speak with you about today's confusion," said Tristan.

Bristol cracked the door open and said tersely, "come in then, if you must." He nearly grabbed Tristan and dragged him inside. Once the door was safely closed, and no servants were within earshot, Bristol pulled Tristan into a great hug and laughed, "it is wonderful to see you!"

Tristan smiled weakly at his old friend, "it is a pleasure to see you as well, I just wish I had better news."

"You have rejoined the Order?" asked Bristol with a perplexed frown.

"Not exactly," said Tristan, "the man you met today, the one I am currently forced to travel with, is an imposter."

"I thought as much," nodded Bristol, "what is he up to?"

"I do not know what he intends," said Tristan, "but I believe he is responsible for the disappearance of three of the Brethren in this region over the past six months, and he has already attempted to kill Pallin."

Bristol stared hard at Tristan and asked, "what does this have to do with you, me, or the Order?"

"You have seen Arora and Pallin?" asked Tristan.

"Of course," said Bristol.

"The Lady sent the three of us into Arca to discover the fate of our missing comrades and to find out what is behind all these confused rumors she hears from the Eastern Realms. You have seen what Arora and Pallin are about, but my own quest has taken a bizarre turn: I am currently traveling with a member of the Brotherhood of the Serpent and he wants me to join his little society."

Bristol stared at Tristan in disbelief, "you?!"

"Yes me," said Tristan with a grimly ironic laugh, "this was not my idea, but it is a perfect opportunity to discover what makes the Brotherhood tick. The only problem is that I may be dead by the end of it. I must somehow play along with this wretched man without violating my Oath. Once the choice comes between violating my Oath or revealing my identity, my life is forfeit unless I can somehow contrive to escape the villain's clutches." He paused for a moment, his grim sobriety giving place to villainous amusement, as he continued, "and my current assignment is to murder you."

"Thank you for asking," said Bristol in mirthful satisfaction, "I cannot abide murderers who do not ask politely before killing someone."

Tristan laughed for the first time in days, "it does seem a bit odd, does it not? I just wish I knew more of what he is about, but to figure that out I will have to survive a little longer, which means obeying him. So how do you propose to die?"

Bristol smiled at Tristan's forced humor and said, "I can slip out of the palace unseen tonight and ride for Astoria immediately. I shall inform the Lady of your current predicament." He sighed but said with a proud smile, "you have been a good friend and I hope to see you again." They embraced once more and then Bristol handed Tristan his tunic. Using a dagger, Tristan ripped a hole in it while Bristol slashed his palm with his own knife, dribbling some of the blood onto the tunic. "That certainly looks like someone died in it," said Bristol with grim satisfaction.

"Now how do we dispose of the body?" grinned Tristan, suddenly enjoying murder and mayhem.

"Simple," said Bristol, "we will fetch our mounts and ride out to a little tavern I know. After we get roaringly 'drunk,' we will ride off together into the woods around the city and you will return alone. Everyone will think I spent the night drowning my sorrows and then rode off disgraced into the night, while this 'friend' of yours will think you handily disposed of me."

They went to the stables, saddled their unicorns, and rode out to the little inn on the edge of town; it was a pleasant place full of friendly people. The favorite pastime of the Arcans was to sit around and listen to the latest ideas, revelations, or theories, most of which were complete nonsense, whether at court or in the local tavern. Tristan and Bristol ordered copious amounts of alcohol but consumed very little. Bristol got louder and 'drunker' as the night progressed, by the wee hours of the morning, he seemed completely inebriated. They left the inn staggering companionably together, mounted their horses, and rode drunkenly off into the wooded hills. No one ever saw Bristol return, but Tristan slipped quietly into the palace and found his way to the rooms he shared with Trap.

It was pitch black within, as a voice from the darkness demanded, "well?"

Tristan said, "he will not be bothering us any longer." He tossed the bloodied tunic in the direction from which the voice had come. Trap lit a candle and examined the garment.

"Very good," said Trap, "and no one will suspect anything?"

"We went out and 'got drunk' together; it will be assumed he was drinking away his misery and rode off into the darkness to hide his shame."

"Well done," said Trap, "now get some sleep."

### Chapter 3

Bristol had not gone far when he heard the sound of pursuing hooves, he pulled up his mare and drew his sword. The canter slowed to a walk as the rider came into view. Bristol put up his sword as he recognized Pallin, gasped the erstwhile advisor, "you startled me! What are you doing out here at this time of night?"

"I could ask the same of you," said Pallin with a worried grin, "what are you and Tristan up to?"

"He just 'murdered' me," replied Bristol with a grin, "have you never talked to a dead man before? This character he is currently involved with belongs to the Brotherhood. Tristan hopes to find out more of what the man is up to, but he is afraid he will not survive long enough to do so. Murdering me was his first real assignment."

Pallin smiled in amusement, though worry for his friend tinged his voice, "at least he succeeded this time, he had his chance to kill me but I survived. Is there anything I can do to help with this precarious mission of his?"

"I do not know," said Bristol, "we should both go before we are seen, I am supposed to be dead. Farewell!" The mare took off at a gallop and quickly vanished into the darkness. Pallin was left alone, wondering what to do next.

The next morning, Bristol was discovered missing, but as Trap immediately assumed his duties, no one wondered at the man's fate or cared what came of him. It was not as if any man could do anything important as a mere advisor to the King, so it little mattered who filled the position. Advisors were kept around simply to mollify the various countries or organizations that sent them, and perhaps to offer a bit of distraction should an entertainment emergency arise. In reality, Arca was a very dull country to rule. It was a prosperous manufacturing city and trade flourished. The people were quiet, obeyed the laws, and paid their taxes. The nobles and merchants oversaw much of the day-to-day running of things and no country currently threatened war. Overall, it was a rather uneventful time to be King of Arca, thus, most of the King's time could be spent in leisure and recreation. He frequently went hunting, held balls and jousts, and invited artists, musicians, and storytellers from all corners of the world to amaze and thrill the court. Tristan idly wondered what Trap's plans were for such a leisurely and distracted kingdom.

The morning after Bristol disappeared, Trap faced his minion, "you have done well with your first task. I think I can trust you with a bit more of my plan. My assignment, or perhaps I should say our assignment, is to maintain the current level of philosophical nonsense afflicting Arca, and eventually use this city as a base to spread such confusion across the world. Our masters thrive in confusion and chaos. We tried covertly to overthrow various thrones, but were discovered, this plan is much more subtle, and though it may take decades to come to fruition, it will be almost impossible to stop! The strength of the Brethren is in their concise definition of the Truth. We are to offer many alternatives to their truth. If there are enough interesting or semi-realistic 'truths' out there, it will make the Brethren's message that much harder to hear and believe.

We will send agents throughout the world to ensure that such 'truths' are spread everywhere, but it may take generations to effectively destroy the Brethren through attrition. Our masters have waited millennia for their chance to conquer the entire world, they are willing to wait as long as it takes, this method is much harder to implement and measure progress with, but if we succeed, no one will take the Brethren seriously and their doom will be assured. Then there will be little, if any impedance, to our masters' conquest. I will stay in the palace to make sure our plans are running smoothly in this epicenter of confusion; you will travel throughout the countryside to observe how well things are proceeding there. Once Arca is firmly in the grip of nonsense, we can further spread confusion throughout the world."

It all seemed very vague and foggy to Tristan but the Brotherhood did have a point. If the people could not unite behind a common idea, be it a country or a creed, then they would be that much easier to split apart and destroy. Many feared evil was brewing beyond the bounds of civilization or perhaps within, just waiting its chance to cover all the world in darkness and confusion. Once truth vanished and everything was relative, no one would care about anything save their own wants and needs. With so many voices proclaiming 'truth,' eventually everyone would stop listening and just do what they felt was best for themselves. It was vague, but over time it could do much more damage than conquering a kingdom or two might have done.

Tristan wondered how to stop the insidious onslaught. War and death often reminded one of things like love and life: it was hard to remain relativistic when confronted with violence and pain and death. Peace, comfort, and idle thoughts easily bred indifference and apathy, kingdoms could be conquered without the shedding of blood! No wonder they wished to keep any necessary violence quiet, threats and danger might rouse these otherwise oblivious people from their indolence. He did like the idea of leaving Trap's company for a time to make a tour of the outlying villages and towns, but he hated leaving the man unattended in the same palace as his wife. He had little choice if he wished to find out more about this sinister Brotherhood, but he hoped he could speak with Arora before he left.

Tristan and Trap attended the morning court together, and as usual, nothing of interest occurred. As the group broke up for the midday meal, Tristan found himself seated next to his wife. "Welcome to Arca," said she, "do you plan to stay long?"

"I believe I will be in and out," said he, "I do not yet know what my duties will entail."

"It is lovely weather for travel," said she with an amused smile.

"Yes," said Tristan, amused at her bland choice of conversational topic, "but there are many dangers upon the road. Some dangers even lurk within protective walls."

"I believe you are correct," said she, "we must be careful wherever we tread."

"I quite agree," nodded Tristan, as both lapsed into silence, attending to their food.

Trap found Tristan after the meal, "what are your thoughts on the singer?"

"She is very pretty and sings beautifully," mused Tristan, "but I fear we did not find much to discuss over lunch, perhaps she is not a very skilled conversationalist?"

"A pity," said Trap, "I had hoped she was at least as intelligent as she is beautiful. I do enjoy an intelligent woman, perhaps I must look elsewhere?" Tristan shuddered, pitying any woman that caught Trap's eye. "You are leaving tomorrow for Middlebeck," continued he, "from there make your way throughout the villages and towns in the eastern part of the country. I want to know how befuddled those in the outlying villages are, those in the city are nicely baffled and quite proud thereof. Report back to me within two weeks." Tristan nodded his agreement, before leaving to pack for his journey.

The next morning before dawn, he was in the stable saddling Taragon. He rode slowly out of the city, glancing back longingly at the palace where his wife slept, praying desperately that she would not catch Trap's eye again. As he stood pensively gawking in the middle of the road, Tristan saw a rider approaching from the direction of the city. He waited patiently as the rider approached, happy to see it was Pallin.

"Where are you going?" asked the boy.

"I am ordered to tour the eastern towns and villages to assess their level of 'confusion' and the progress of the Brotherhood's current schemes," said Tristan, adding with a heavy sigh, "I will be gone for a fortnight."

"I met Bristol in the woods after his brutal murder, he told me about your predicament. I will keep an eye on this Trap and protect Arora as best I can," said wistfully Pallin. Tristan nodded his thanks, his heart would rest easier knowing Arora was not alone with Trap about the palace. Pallin continued, "I think I can take Bristol's place as Advisor to the King for the Brethren."

"The King is not going to care one way or the other," said Tristan with a pathetic attempt at a smile, "but it would get you access to the court. Just be careful not to upset Trap too much or you may be his next target. he is not so compassionate a killer as I." Added he, "how go things in the city?"

Pallin groaned, "very tedious indeed! Everyone talks at once and no one says anything of substance. I wish I could pack them all off to Astoria for a week for a good dose of reality."

"I understand," smiled Tristan, "the court is even worse! May the Master ride with you, my friend!" He smiled broadly at the young man and cantered off, his heart a little lighter. Pallin gazed after him, wondering what would come of this strange adventure.

Pallin presented himself to the court and was apathetically accepted to fill one half of Bristol's former office. Trap was not happy at the turn of events, but the man was quiet and did not seem to unduly influence anyone so he let the matter rest, at least for now. Perhaps when Tristan returned he would give him another chance at the man. Arora did not show it, but was vastly pleased to have a friendly sword nearby. She did not like Tristan's new acquaintance in the least, though he often tried to chat with her during idle moments at court, but she feigned ignorance, hoping he would take her for a halfwit and leave her alone. He did not take the message. Pallin paid her some attention, but not enough to cause controversy. His conversation was a welcome change from the idle prattle of the nobles and the coldness of Trap. The whole situation was wearying for everyone involved. How did people live like this?

Tristan easily accomplished his tour of eastern Arca in a timely fashion with a unicorn's native speed. Middlebeck, his initial destination, was a prosperous town on the coast of the Eastern Sea. He stopped at many inns and talked to anyone along the road who would listen and answer his questions. The further east he went, the more grounded and receptive people were. The closer to Arca, the less thoughtful and more vociferous people became. Throughout his journey, he met a variety of people traveling about and spreading various messages. There were current and former members of the Order that told any number of nebulous tales about their view of reality, there were a few sinister characters that he thought must be associated with the Brotherhood, but the more confusing and far more numerous traveling raconteurs he encountered claimed to be graduates or students of the University. When asked what exactly the University was, they became very defensive and stuffy, claiming it was a legitimate institution and he had no right to question it. He was not trying to question its validity, merely trying to clarify what exactly the University was.

He changed tactics and feigned interest as a potential student, saying he had heard much about the institution and wished to know more. This encouraged and excited the alumni and current students, and they happily answered any questions he asked. According to his eager informants, the University was founded only a few years prior, in the neighboring country of Syre by a wealthy philosopher to promulgate the collection and dispersal of knowledge. Students could attend at no cost to themselves and part of their assignment was to go forth and spread whatever knowledge they had acquired during their short stay at the institution. Once they completed a certain number of such journeys and written a sizable document about something of interest only to themselves, they were allowed to call themselves Scholars.

Many journeyed about spreading their 'wisdom' or sought positions as advisors or teachers. It was a perfect plan to disseminate faulty logic and flawed philosophy. No wonder the people of Arca were unwilling to listen to any more 'preaching!' Arca seemed to be the favorite destination for these would-be scholars. Strangely, or not so strangely, none of the Scholars or students ever said anything that ever agreed with what anyone else said, even though they were from the same school. Whatever they thought they were learning was not of much academic value, but was highly effective at confusing and distorting the Truth. The more sinister characters he had observed seemed well pleased with the results, and he did not doubt Trap would be happy.

By the end of his two-week stint in the east, Tristan was ready to go home, even home to Trap! He had heard enough nonsense to last a lifetime, even a lifetime of several centuries. "Very good," said he, "it seems our little experiment with the University is a success."

"Our experiment?" asked Tristan.

"Yes," said Trap, "members of the Brotherhood have convinced various generous personages to donate to this institution in exchange for a professorship. They are allowed to teach whatever they want and students are encouraged to develop their own truths. It seems to be working very well, we are producing a crop of poorly educated scholars eager to spread their own variant of truth as far and wide as possible, for the more people who hear their own ideas, the more important and well-known they become. Pride begets pride and ignorance begets ignorance. It is beautiful! We have agents in the field overseeing the students' progress locally, I am sure you noticed a few of them?"

Tristan nodded, "I also saw several members of the Order going about proclaiming gibberish. Do you have agents in the Order as well?"

"The Order wants to expand its educational opportunities," said Trap, "they have reached out not only to the Brethren, but now to the University as well. If this succeeds locally, within a decade we hope to have a major University in every civilized country." Tristan could not imagine what hordes of wandering scholars would do to local economies, the young men who should be plowing fields, building houses, defending their countries, and fathering children would instead become part of a useless and clueless army roaming aimlessly about the world giving nothing back to society but vacuous words. It was a brilliantly evil plot.

"I have a great interest in this singer," said Trap suddenly changing the subject, "purely recreational of course, but I can never get anywhere near her without our friend from Darcy's Spring getting in the way. I think it would be amusing if you challenged him to a duel for the honor of the lady."

"Me?" said Tristan.

"Is there anyone else here?" snapped Trap, "Yes, you! I am an official Advisor to the King, I cannot go about starting duels, I might get hurt. Besides, just think of it as your chance to correct your gaffe when first you tried to kill the man."

"I cannot start a duel with one of the Brethren!" said Tristan, "I will end up dead, the man is a trained warrior! Besides, can he accept a duel if he is bound by this Oath of his?"

"If he feels it is in defense of the innocent, I am sure he will oblige you," shrugged Trap, "I would hate to see you die when you have been so useful, but it is a risk I am willing to take. If you survive, I think you may be ready to take your first step of initiation into the Brotherhood."

"First step?" asked Tristan.

"Yes," said Trap with a cold smile, "so far you have been a freeloader with no real commitments. If you survive, you will be required to take an oath of service to my masters, or I will kill you myself."

"I will see what I can arrange," said Tristan glumly.

"Tomorrow will do for our little entertainment," said Trap dismissively. Tristan left the room to find a secluded place to think. Trap indifferently watched him go, the man was useful, but could be replaced, but the ensuing debacle would be entertaining no matter how it ended!

### Chapter 4

Tristan walked alone in the palace gardens, it was a moonless night and the darkness suited his mood. The man wanted his wife, not because she was an amazing woman, but because he thought she would offer him some small excitement or thrill to temporarily warm his frigid heart. Death was imminent, but for whom? He would break Oath and die if he killed Pallin or swore his soul to serve some vile demon, not that he had any desire to do either, but Trap would kill him if he did not do as he was told. Tristan was not afraid to die nor did he fear Trap's martial skills, but he was so close to learning more of this vile Brotherhood, yet he must abandon the chase before his quarry was taken! At least this University thing was worth knowing about, but it was a castoff antler when he hoped to take the whole stag. What were they to do with Trap and should they abandon their various roles in Arca? He paced in the darkness, mulling futilely over the matter, before deciding he must see Arora.

He crept cautiously through the halls, careful not to be seen by anyone, hidden within the folds of a hooded cloak, just in case there were any midnight wanderers abroad. He was about to knock on her door when another man, also hooded and cloaked, stepped out of the shadows, sword drawn. "Who are you?" hissed a soft voice, "What is your business here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," whispered Tristan in grim amusement, "I mean no harm, I have come seeking counsel."

"In the middle of the night?" squawked the stranger.

"What are you doing threatening me with a sword at such a time and place?" asked Tristan boldly, a knowing grin hidden by his cowl.

"I am here to see that the lady is not disturbed," said the stranger, still gripping his sword.

"I am the last man to harm her," laughed Tristan, lowering his hood.

"Oh!" said Pallin, putting away his weapon, "I am sorry, but that evil man has been lurking about night and day; I did not know you had returned."

Tristan smiled easily, saying, "this concerns you too, we have much to discuss." Arora, awakened by the exchange, quietly cracked the door open and nearly shrieked in joy, but restraining herself, drew both men into her chambers. She flung her arms about Tristan, weeping in sheer joy and relief. The presence of Trap had unsettled her more than she realized, only her husband's strong arms now seemed to offer any protection from the vile man. She could hold her own in a sword fight, but she could not defend herself against the awful man's eerie presence, and she feared what thoughts might be coursing through such a mind.

She graciously thanked Pallin for his constant vigilance and again embraced her husband. Pallin looked away, blushing awkwardly. Once she was satisfied that Tristan was well and not likely to vanish immediately, they sat down to discuss what to do next. Tristan outlined Trap's proposal for a duel and his choices in the matter. They agreed that it was time to end the secrecy. Arora thought that she should stay in Arca as court bard, just to keep an eye on things, word would also be sent to Astoria to fetch back Bristol to resume his former position and assist Arora in her observations, while Tristan and Pallin would investigate the University. The only question was, what to do about Trap? He certainly could not be left free to carry out his plans or to endanger Arora or anyone else who caught his eye. Tristan had captured members of the Brotherhood before, but one had killed himself with his own dagger and the other had somehow willed himself to die. He wanted to capture the man alive and take him back to Astoria for questioning, but he doubted their ability to keep him alive once he was captured, no matter what they did, Trap would probably end up dead. To protect Arora's identity as one of the Brethren, they should also settle matters as quietly as they could. It was very late before they were happy with their plan, such as it was, and Pallin retired to his room, while Tristan returned to Trap's rooms sometime later, wishing to spend some time alone with his wife.

Trap awakened upon his return, "well?"

"Everything is settled," said Tristan grimly, "tomorrow will be an interesting day."

"Good," said the man, as he blew out the lamp and went back to sleep. Tristan tried to follow suit but lay awake until nearly dawn, thinking and rethinking about their plans for the next day.

The court assembled after breakfast as usual, ready for another weary session of listening to yet another blathering imbecile. Before anyone could stop him, Pallin stepped before the King, bowed and said, "your Majesty, I must beg your pardon, but duty bids me to proceed. There is one here amongst your court that has impugned the honor of a lady and endangered her safety. I beg your forgiveness, but I must declare a duel betwixt myself and this vile personage." The King was most interested at the offer of bloodshed, as was most of the court. Trap smiled predaciously in anticipation.

"Proceed as you must," said the not uneager King.

"Then," said Pallin, "I hereby challenge the representative from the Order of the Unicorn to a duel."

"You mean my assistant," snarled Trap dangerously.

"No," said Tristan, "he means you. I have done nothing to dishonor the lady in question."

"Very well," growled Trap, "I accept, but only because I relish the thought of killing you. You and all your colleagues are nothing but a nuisance, and I would like nothing better than to rid the earth of you." He glared dangerously at Tristan, "when this is finished, I will deal with you." Tristan merely shrugged and smiled blandly at the threat, as the two lines of spectators came together to form a circle with a large open space in the middle. The combatants tossed aside their coats and other bulky clothing, facing one another with swords drawn.

"This is a fight to the death," intoned an official voice from somewhere amongst the crowd, "fight honorably and die well." The crowd cheered in anticipation, a little bloodshed was just the thing to ease the tedious hours before lunch.

Pallin waited patiently for Trap to make the first move. The two circled each other, taking half-hearted swings at their opponent, testing the other's responses. Then Trap lunged in, the fight began in earnest, Pallin took a glancing blow on the shoulder, but hardly noticed. Trap's sleeve suffered a mortal blow in return, but the man himself was unscathed. The audience gasped and cheered at all the right moments, eager for more blood and less refined technique. It was a close fight, though Trap had the advantage of experience, strength, and height, Pallin was smaller and quicker, if less experienced. Each held his own, but Pallin seemed to be flagging, his breaths were coming in gasps, sweat rolled down his face, and his left arm throbbed, hanging uselessly at his side, for that small nick ached as if it had suddenly become gangrenous. Trap smiled in anticipation, his foe was weakening and the kill would soon follow, if the wound did not kill him first.

"Getting tired, boy?" scoffed the evil man, for his blade was laced with many vile spells that made the smallest wound fatal.

A horrible clattering sound came from the corridor, the doors of the chamber were flung aside, and an enraged unicorn thundered into the hall; the terrified crowd drew aside from the furious creature, even as Trap drew back from his victim in horror. She nuzzled her stricken master and a single tear fell from her eye, landing on the festering wound, sizzling as it encountered the fell blade's handiwork. The redness and swelling vanished, leaving a simple laceration, untainted by foul spells. The mare glared at Trap with indignation and stood protectively over her master, who was trying vainly to rise to his feet.

"This is a fascinating turn of events," mused the rather disappointed King, "but it is certainly a very strange duel, will no one fight for the honor of a lady?"

"I will," said Tristan, "he is guilty of sins dark and terrible, I know but a few of his crimes, and they alone are worthy of death; Impugning a lady is the least of his wrongs! In the name of the Master, I place you under arrest."

"You?" scoffed Trap, "Arrest me? Of what crimes am I accused? And I would think you are the one who should be arrested, as you are the one who murdered Bristol." The court gasped in delight as the plot thickened.

"You hereby stand accused of murdering three of the Brethren assigned to the Eastern Realms and for dabbling with powers more evil than any mortal knows," replied Tristan, "I have shed no innocent blood. Bristol lives still."

"A likely story," sneered Trap, "have you any proof?"

"That I still live is proof enough," smiled Tristan in triumph, "if I commit murder in cold blood, I would violate the Oath I swore to the Master and suffer the consequences of doing so."

"You!" snarled Trap, "You are one of those cursed Brethren! How?"

"I walked a very fine and dangerous line, but never did anything to compromise my Oath," said Tristan, "I only wish you had not forced my hand to reveal my true identity. Will you put away your sword and come quietly?" For answer, Trap raised his sword and lunged at Tristan. Unlike Pallin, who had been playing with swords for only a couple of years, Tristan had been at it for over a century; there were few who could rival him with a blade. Trap was soon on the floor, clutching his leg in pain. It was not a mortal blow, as Tristan hoped to capture the man alive.

"You will not take me alive," spat Trap.

"I know," said Tristan glumly, "I have dealt with your kind before, and they always manage to kill themselves rather than face captivity."

Trap grinned in triumph, "you must either kill me, let me go, or I will take my own life. Either way, I have won."

Tristan asked gravely, "what awaits you beyond death?"

Trap gave him a startled look, "beyond? There is no beyond. This life is all there is."

"Then what use is it swearing your life away to your vile masters?" persisted Tristan.

"Absolute power in this life," laughed Trap.

"Then what is the sense of dying for your masters?" pressed Tristan, "You do not win: you are simply dead. I do not believe you cease to exist with your final breath, rather something dark and terrible awaits you beyond the grave, something they have failed to tell you about."

"Why do you care?" asked the confounded Trap.

"I care for all the Master's people," said Tristan quietly, "no matter their crimes. Is there a way to revoke your oath?"

"I do not know," said Trap wanly, "I have never heard of it being done, but why should I listen to you?"

"What have your dark masters ever done for you?" asked Tristan, "Has your life been filled with joy, as it should be if you are serving a higher purpose? Have they given you anything but a cold, empty heart and no future but death? Do not listen to me, but for once in your miserable life listen to your heart!"

Trap fell silent, examining the course of his life and all the things he thought he knew, but now began to wonder if his whole life had been based on lies. "I will think about your words and come to a decision," sighed he, "it has been long since I have listened to anything but my own selfish desires." He dropped his sword and allowed his hands to be bound behind his back, he was searched and relieved of his other weapons, and escorted to a secure cell.

Tristan sheathed his own blade and approached the weak, but smiling, Pallin. Pallin laughed, "I never imagined things would turn out like that! What do you think will come of him?"

"I do not know," smiled Tristan sadly, "he has been steeped in evil for many long years and who knows what horrible rites he has performed along the way? The road back to humanity will be long and hard for him, but not impossible, if he truly seeks the Master. I still cannot believe he listened to what I said, but perhaps it is simple kindness for which the darkest heart yearns most. We should see to that wound."

"It is only a cut," said Pallin, but he did not argue too strenuously.

The King came forward, "this was a fascinating scene. You both acted as if there is such a thing as absolute truth, right and wrong, meaning in life and something thereafter?"

Tristan bowed and said, "that is because there is your Majesty, perhaps if you listened more to the Truth and less to these prattling fools you will gain wisdom." He bowed again and escorted Pallin through the stunned crowd, trailed by the well-pleased mare.

Pallin was himself again within a few days, he and Tristan spent their time speaking to the King and various nobles about the Truth and the Master, and how to proceed in reestablishing common sense and real knowledge in the realm. Bristol arrived soon after the duel and resumed his old position. Tristan happily packed away his latest Order uniform, exchanging it for regular clothes. All three men frequented Trap's cell, answering his questions and talking with him about the small joys in everyday life. Arora never visited him, she was still too uncomfortable around a man who had felt what he had about her, neither did she wish to cause him any grief or pain in his desperate situation. He was to stay in the cells at Arca until he had come to some sort of closure, and then his final situation would be determined based upon his decisions; Bristol would continue to meet with him on a regular basis, to listen, talk, or answer questions at need. The King asked that Tristan and Pallin stay in Arca and teach what they knew about the Truth, but Tristan declined, saying they had urgent business elsewhere, but he was sure the Lady would be happy to send Teachers if he requested them. Arora added more meaningful songs to her repertoire: the histories, legends, and stories she relayed musically seemed to fascinate the court, which had been used to hearing only vapid love songs and instrumental pieces. Tristan sent word to the Lady of all that had happened and of their future plans. He secretly bid Arora farewell, then he and Pallin rode off towards the University.

### Chapter 5

Syre was a large and prosperous country, its main city, Dara, was located on the Eastern Sea, and much of its prosperity came from fishing and trade thereupon. The University was housed in a rambling manor that had once belonged to an ailing Lord, who willed it to the institution on his deathbed after being assured that it would then be named in his honor. The manor house and its various outbuildings had been divided into various areas for student housing, teaching, and rooms for the faculty to live and work in. The place was buzzing with activity, Students, mostly young men in brightly colored robes, zipped about in a hurried frenzy, while faculty, in even more colorful robes, strolled importantly about on some vital errand or other. As Tristan and Pallin rode across the campus, they drew many strange looks, not only were they riding but they also wore swords. While many things were taught at this strange institution, violence was not one of them. If all 'truths' were correct, then how could you resort to violence over differences in opinion? Did not the other person have as much right to his 'truth' as you had to yours? Horses were simply considered a luxury or an extravagance, why ride when your own feet worked perfectly well, and all the money that went to support the horse could then be used to support some other worthy cause, like the University!

Many of the students were also the second, third, or fourth sons of farmers, merchants, and nobles who did not expect to inherit much from their fathers and thus were forced to seek gainful employment elsewhere. Not wishing to become apprentices or soldiers, they opted to come to the University, and thus were not able to afford so extravagant a thing as a horse, and therefore anyone riding a horse was wasting resources. Tristan asked directions, seeking whoever was in charge of the University and received a very confused look in answer. It appeared no one was in charge of this miasma of activity. There were various people who oversaw certain aspects of the day-to-day operations, but there was no particular person who managed everything. He then asked who was in charge of admitting new students and finally received a useful answer; they approached the small cottage indicated by their informant, leaving the unicorns loose outside, as there was nothing to pretend to tie them to, and unlike real horses, they were not prone to wander. They knocked on the door and someone inside yelled, "come in!"

They entered and found an old, but lively man, inside sitting at a table with a stack of papers in front of him and a quill pen in his hand, he smiled as they entered, "what can I do for you?"

"We have heard much of this University of yours and have come hence to learn more about it," said Tristan.

The man laughed, "it is not 'my' University, or anyone else's for that matter, it belongs to everyone, but what would you like to know?"

"Anything you can tell us of its origins, requirements, educational programs, and mode of operations would be helpful," said Tristan.

"That is quite a list," grinned the old man, "may I ask why all the questions?"

"We are just very curious about this place, as we have never encountered anything quite like it before," said Tristan.

"It is quite an impressive accomplishment, if I may say so," said the man proudly, "let me see, yes...the University was started a few years ago by a group calling themselves the Philanthropic Society. They wanted to leave something behind, make their lives meaningful and all that I suppose, the Society convinced some of the richest men in Syre to give generously to their little fund and soon had enough to establish the University. We are supported by contributions from whoever feels moved to give, and also by donations from former students that have achieved some semblance of fiscal success. Admission is open to anyone and everyone, except girls, they would be a distraction, however, we are hoping to start a similar institution for women, but it is still very much in the planning stages.

Students must sit in on five hundred hours of lecture, spend six months traveling and sharing their wisdom or furthering their education, and then must write a two hundred page manifesto on a subject of their choice. After they have completed these requirements, they are granted the title of Scholar and are encouraged to spend at least three years teaching, furthering their education, or conducting research in their area of expertise. After such a time, they may return to us and claim the post of Professor, one can also become a Professor by donating generously to our University. The University itself is overseen by a number of men who manage various aspects, such as I oversee enrollment and student development. If a problem should arise, the various department heads get together and try to solve the problem; the faculty also vote on certain matters if need be. There really is not an administrator or oversight committee. We like to allow things to develop as naturally as possible over time; a president or other leader might force things into a direction biased by his personal prejudices. Doing it this way, no single person has too much influence over the University as a whole."

"Fascinating," said Tristan, "could we explore the campus a bit and perhaps listen to a lecture or two?"

"Of course," laughed the old man, "do whatever you like, the University is open to all. And if you should decide to enroll, just come back and let me know, though just between ourselves, you may want to pack away your weapons, some of the students may find them distracting."

Tristan nodded his thanks and they left the small cottage, when they emerged, seeking their mounts, they encountered quite a scene instead. A ring of students had formed itself around the two 'horses,' and all were intently watching one young man trying to interact with the animals. The boy stood at Taragon's head, reaching vainly upwards but seemingly oblivious to the stallion's perturbed behavior. Anyone who had ever spent any time around horses could easily read the signs that Taragon was not happy: his ears were laid back, he kept lifting his head out of reach or backing up, his tail swishing furiously, but the boy would not, or could not, read the signs and did not desist in his current objective, which seemed to be grabbing the bridle and getting Taragon's head under control.

"What are you doing?" queried Tristan of the persistent boy.

"I am an expert horseman," said the boy smugly continuing in his efforts, "I am simply trying to demonstrate my skills by catching these wandering animals. I have perfected the technique of Positive Horsemanship."

"And what would that be?" asked Tristan skeptically.

"If you project positive thoughts at the animal, he will sense your good intentions and allow you to do whatever you would like with him. It makes for a very tractable horse and a more humane training process," replied the boy proudly.

"I see," said Tristan, whose voice implied otherwise, "and exactly how much experience have you had with horses?"

The boy grinned, "oh lots, we lived next door to a blacksmith and I got to watch horses all day long. We also had a pony when I was a child. I have had more experience than most people."

"And why did you decide to practice your technique on our mounts?" asked Tristan wryly.

"They were wandering loose," said the boy, "and as the local expert in all things horsy, I felt it my duty to capture them before someone got hurt or they got lost."

"I thank you for your help," said Tristan, unable to hide his amused grin any longer, "but they would not have gone far nor hurt anyone who was not directly confronting them." He walked forward through the crowd and fondly patted the neck of the great stallion, grinning to himself at the boy was well-intentioned, but clueless boy's antics, as the mare walked quietly up to Pallin. Tristan turned back to the boy, "is there somewhere we may stow our gear temporarily?"

"Oh yes," said the boy, "I will take you to the storage office." They followed the excited youth towards what looked like it had once been some sort of shed, but now housed the central storage area. The boy said, "you can check your items in here and retrieve them whenever you decide to leave."

"Thank you," said Tristan, as the boy beamed. They unsaddled the unicorns and handed their tack, supplies, and weapons to the man behind the counter. He looked skeptically at their paraphernalia but secured it despite its questionable nature, perhaps the sooner unseen the better! They then loosed the unicorns, much to the astonishment of the boy.

"What are you doing?" squawked he in dismay.

"They will be here when we need them," said Tristan with a fond smile, as he watched them buck and frisk a bit now that they were free of their harness, before they quickly disappeared into the distant woods. "Now," he said, turning to the boy, who still stared off in the direction the creatures had fled, "we would like to sit in on a lecture or two, can you help us?"

"Huh?" said the boy, "Oh, there is a list of lectures posted every day right over here." He showed them a piece of parchment tacked to the wall of the storage facility. On it was a list of about twenty topics being discussed during the course of the day. Some of the topics included:

Goats: a psychological analysis.

Kerfluffle the Ogre: a study in prejudice and misconception, and its implications for society.

The Socioeconomic impact of large-scale turtle farming.

In the eye of the beholder: the unreality of evil, beauty, and other surreal concepts.

A forest of feeling: how the trees suffer from the exploitation of man.

Dragons: myths, monsters, or gods?

Going Buggy: the social interactions of dung beetles.

The Brethren: an expose on world domination.

The futility of achievement: why the world would be better off if everyone was mediocre.

The influence of lobsters in art and music throughout history.

Flatulence as a form of self-expression.

It was a long and tedious list, and would have been funny had not the people who were giving such lectures been so very serious about their topics. Tristan looked at the boy, "how do you decide which lectures to attend?"

He smiled proudly and said, "we are encouraged to attend classes on a wide variety of subjects, but we try to pick the lectures most relevant to our own area of study. I have a green robe, which means I am interested in the natural sciences, black is undecided or general studies, red is the philosophical and logical disciplines, yellow is the arts and history, and blue is the social and economic fields."

"What is your next class?" asked Tristan.

"I am attending the lecture on the Brethren, though the dung beetle class also looks interesting," replied the boy eagerly.

Tristan was not sure what he felt about the Brethren being ranked so closely to dung beetles but said, "we would like to go with you, if that is not a problem?"

The boy grinned happily, "I would be pleased to escort you, are you enrolling in the University?"

"We are thinking about it," said Tristan grimly. Pallin looked at him askance, uneager to officially enroll in this nonsensical place, but they would do as Tristan felt they must. They followed the boy across the campus and into the sprawling manor house, he led them into a large room packed with eager students, there was just room enough for everyone to stand, albeit uncomfortably close to everyone else. "Are all the lectures this full?" asked Tristan in surprise.

"Oh yes," nodded the boy proudly, "except maybe the flatulence lecture. There are so many students and the number of lectures is limited, so we must crowd into whatever space is available."

Shortly, a tall, stuffy man processed proudly into the room in a flowing robe of yellow and blue. Tristan asked quietly, "what do the colors of the instructor's robe mean?"

The boy looked horrified that Tristan would dare talk once the Professor was in the room but mumbled back, "they wear whatever they want." Several of the surrounding pupils stared at them in disbelief that they would even think about talking, at which the boy was cowed into horrified silence by his peers. Tristan smiled in amusement, they certainly took their studies seriously. The professor glanced around the room sternly, as if trying to locate the source of the offensive noise, but found no one to blame so began his lecture. The man spoke for a full hour on the Brethren and their evil plot to force the world to submit to their version of 'truth,' and their willingness to use whatever means necessary. Tristan was amazed to learn that he was a member of a militant organization that was planning the overthrow of free choice, rational thought, and common sense. Why had over a century in the service of the Brethren not revealed such a fundamental truth about the organization?

Pallin struggled valiantly to contain his laughter and spent most of the hour with a haphazard grin on his face, once the instructor finished his tirade against the Brethren, he looked directly at Pallin and asked, "do you find something funny? What I have just said is of the utmost importance and is not to be laughed at!"

Pallin bowed, or tried to in the crowded room, and said, "no offense to you sir. Your lecture was quite enlightening on many counts, I simply cannot contain myself at being amidst such peculiarly enlightened men." The professor looked at him skeptically but seemed mollified.

As they filed out of the room, the boy asked, "what did you think?"

"It was definitely an eye-opening experience," said Tristan dryly, "I had never thought about the Brethren in that way."

"That is what is so wonderful about the whole University," piped the boy, "it opens your eyes to so many things you would otherwise never think about."

"I am sure it does," said Tristan archly, "what happens now?"

The boy said, "that was the last lecture before lunch, I must help with dishes today. After that there are several more lectures before the evening meal."

"We shall accompany you today," said Tristan, "if we are not an inconvenience?"

"Oh no," said the boy, "I would love to act as your guide and you can help me with the dishes."

"The dishes?" asked Pallin glumly.

"Yes," said the boy, "we are all assigned chores, as it keeps costs down if we all help out around the University."

"Lead on," said Tristan, vastly amused at Pallin's lack of enthusiasm for helping with the dishes, though he had likely done the same times beyond count in Astoria. After a light lunch, the boy led them into the kitchens where several young men were at work cleaning up. Tristan and Pallin rolled up their sleeves and pitched in, Tristan remarking quietly to Pallin, "nothing like washing dishes for the glory of the Master."

"This was not," said Pallin, "what I thought I would be doing when I took my Oath!"

"There are many things we must do in service to the Master, even if we would rather not," said Tristan with a knowing smile, "besides, you missed a spot." Pallin gave him a significant look, one of mock-sternness, but he resumed his scrubbing with a lighter heart, there were far worse things he could be doing, like attending the flatulence lecture!

### Chapter 6

With the washing up completed, the boy led them to their next class. Tristan nearly fell asleep as the professor rattled on and on about the disputes between various individuals on the only proper way to name and classify fungi. They attended several more sessions before the evening meal, thankfully none were as dull as the fungus lecture, but none of them really presented any useful information, while some of the material was downright wrong or distorted. They trudged wearily to supper after a strenuous day of tedium, though the students were excited and chatty over the evening meal, intrigued by the newcomers. Some remembered the pair had been armed upon their arrived and remarked on their swords, Tristan explained that he had once been a member of the Order, and as they often traveled through wild or uncivilized lands, weapons were sometimes necessary to ward off unwanted attention from animals or violent men. Several of the students perked up at mention of the Order, for there were a significant number of Order members amongst the student body. Many still went to Astoria, it was true, but the discipline was less rigorous and the subjects were more varied at the University, and a growing number of people within the Order frowned upon the Oath-taking, which many of the men who went to Astoria opted to participate in. It seemed the Order was on the brink of a schism. Tristan had wondered if it was not coming, for either the Order would slowly be absorbed into the Brethren and cease to be a separate entity, or the Order would split and resume its previous position as a rival to the Brethren.

Many of the students frowned upon swords and violence as a means of resolving anything, but the students who had actually encountered violence in the course of their lives rolled their eyes and shook their heads at the would-be pacifists. It was one thing to refuse to use a weapon on another individual, it was quite another to assume that because you did not use a weapon your opponent would somehow see reason and likewise refrain from violence. If all the world agreed that violence was bad and no one would partake in evil against another person, then swords and violence would cease to exist, but as long as there was one man or nation willing to use force against another, swords and violence would be a necessary part of maintaining peace for those who could not, or would not, defend themselves. But most of the students had never encountered real evil and could not understand why swords might be necessary to maintain peace. They assumed everyone was as 'sensible' as they felt themselves, thus swords were unnecessary and only encouraged violence.

After supper, the students gathered on the lawn in the middle of campus and held their evening debate. Each evening they chose a subject, and students took part in arguing for or against the topic of interest. Tonight's subject was whether or not there was such a thing as evil. "Evil is simply a pre-constructed misconception in the minds of those who choose not to let everyone believe what they wish," said one boy, "how can the opinions or ideas of one be better or worse than the thoughts of another? Is not everyone entitled to their own ideas? How can one be evil and one be good? Evil is simply a way of labeling those who disagree with you, which then somehow gives you the right to use force to change their minds or destroy them for their temerity in disagreeing with you."

Pallin stood up on the stump on which the recognized speaker must stand, said he, "by this definition evil is simply me not agreeing with you on something and using that as an excuse to enforce my will on you?" The previous speaker nodded. "What if I feel murder is all right?" asked Pallin, "Could I murder someone in cold blood because I thought it was right and it would not be called evil?"

The boy stood up on the stump, "if the person you killed thought murder was acceptable, then it would not be evil, but if he did not think murder was acceptable and you killed him, then it would be evil because you used force on him against his beliefs."

Pallin scratched his head at this curious logic and resumed the stump, "so you are saying evil exists, but it is simply the forcing of one's will on another who does not agree with you? Murder is acceptable as long as you both agree that murder is good? What if I murder someone and then steal his money? I was not killing him because we disagreed about murder but because we disagreed about who should be in possession of his money. Is the theft evil, but the murder acceptable?"

The boy looked very confused but took the stump again, "would not all people agree that murder is bad and therefore they should refrain from such an action?"

"Yes," said Pallin, on the stump, "but what if two murderers have a fight and one kills the other. Both agree that killing people is fine. Does that mean that one killing the other is not evil?" By now the audience was very confused. "Either evil exists or it does not," continued Pallin, "simply redefining 'evil' does nothing for the reality thereof. Either there are forces out there willing to take advantage of other individuals or there are not. If murder, theft, kidnapping, rape, and every other crime you can think of is wrong, then there must be those out there willing to perpetrate them and therefore evil exists. If murder, theft, and rape are acceptable because they are just differences in opinion between two people, then evil does not exist, just differences in what is considered acceptable behavior. If the latter, who decides what is 'acceptable' behavior? If I am set upon by a man with violent intentions, is it wrong for me to 'disagree' with him and either flee or defend myself? Or should I simply allow him to act in whatever fashion he feels is right? Whose opinion should be counted in such a situation, mine or his?"

A student took the stump when Pallin stepped down, "very interesting conjectures. Rational people would sit down and talk it out. There is no need for violence!"

Pallin shook his head, "you are thinking in circles! Rational people are not violent because they are rational. What about all the irrational people out there who do not wish to sit down and discuss things? Evil is real and there are those individuals who will stop at nothing to accomplish their desires; they will not sit down and talk it out. They will simply kill you and step over your corpse." Several of the students cheered, but the majority looked decidedly unhappy and there was no more debate that night. Their guide from earlier in the day offered them the option of sleeping in his room, as they had not yet been assigned quarters, an offer they happily accepted.

The boy shared a small room with three other boys, six made for a very tight sleeping arrangement, but they were delighted to have the visitors in their quarters, as they were always excited to learn something new. Even though the debate itself had been a disappointment to them, sometimes it went on for hours and though nothing was ever decided, lots of wonderful sounding, though unintelligible, speeches were made, they were still eager to learn what they could from these intriguing strangers. Tristan's story was simple: he had been part of the Order, but it did not appeal to him so he went in search of something more meaningful. He had met Pallin on his journeys and together they went in search of the truth. The opinions of the students on the Order were enlightening, if little else was in that place, while they disagreed with its military focus, they applauded its attempts at improving itself by reaching out to the University, hoping eventually that its focus would shift to peace and knowledge, diverting its vast resources to such noble endeavors rather than being wasted on military expenditures. Their thoughts on the Brethren were also curious, for they knew little of them, save what their teachers said, but they were certain, as they were certain on nothing else, that the Brethren were hardheaded and brainwashed individuals who would stop at nothing to remake the world in their image.

"What would you do," asked Tristan, "if you met one of these Brethren in your travels when you go out to expound your knowledge to others?"

"I would be very careful in approaching him," said their guide, Geff by name, "they are very dangerous men, but I would try to convince him of his own prejudices and help him see the light."

"Interesting," smiled Tristan, strangely touched by the boy's bold ignorance and good intentions.

They stayed up late into the night discussing a plethora of topics, the boys found their guests full of fascinating knowledge and were reluctant to go to bed, the next morning over breakfast, yawning, Tristan asked Geff, "what exactly do you do on these knowledge-sharing journeys?"

The boy smiled brightly, seemingly untouched by exhaustion, "we go out and visit inns, village greens, and anywhere else an audience is gathered, sharing our wisdom with all and sundry."

"What is the point of such journeys?" asked Tristan.

"Why," said the boy, aghast at his ignorance, "to spread our knowledge to the benighted common folk and to spread awareness of the University and its services to everyone! It also gives us a chance to get out into the real world, to refine our knowledge and teaching abilities in order to prepare ourselves for a professorship or advisory position to persons of influence."

"How exactly do you support yourself on these journeys?" asked Tristan, "I do not expect you hunt or otherwise gather food along the way?"

"No," said the boy, "in return for our generosity in sharing our knowledge, undoubtedly the grateful peasants will provide us with room, board, and a little spending money."

Tristan pitied the poor youth and his expectations of support for offering useless advice to people with more commonsense than anyone at the University even dreamed of, it would be a shocking revelation to the lad's noble sensibilities when it finally came. Said he, changing the subject, "do you often get visitors or people who check up on the progress of the University?"

"We get potential students, such as yourselves, who visit quite often," mused the boy, "otherwise we occasionally see some important looking fellows that I think are from the Philanthropic Society and are just checking in to see how things are coming along." Tristan wondered if this Society was simply a front group for members of the Brotherhood, who were making sure things continued along as haphazardly as possible.

"When do you leave on your journey?" asked Tristan.

"Actually," said the boy eagerly, "I leave the day after tomorrow. I have a few more lectures I need to attend and am almost finished with my thesis on Positive Horsemanship. Once I have completed those two requirements, all I have left until I am awarded the title of Scholar is my journey.

"How is this journey graded?" asked Tristan.

"It is not graded," said the boy, "we simply go out and travel for six months. Right now we are encouraged to go out only into Arca and eastern Syre, but it is hoped we will soon be allowed to expand our territory."

"Why the restrictions?" asked Tristan.

"I think they wish to fully educate the surrounding areas, before sending us out into the wider world, it might dilute our message if we became too scattered, too fast. I think they plan on planting new Universities as our numbers grow and by restricting our area now, they will not overlap the potential territories of future Universities."

"I see," nodded Tristan, "now where are you planning to venture?"

"I do not know," said the boy uneasily, "I have never left Dara. I suppose I will head towards Arca and see what I encounter along the way."

"Are you allowed companions on your journey?" asked Tristan.

"Students must not travel with other students, but I do not think it is forbidden to travel with non-students, assuming you do not shirk your duties," said Geff hopefully.

"If I may," said Tristan, "I would like to go with you. I wish to know more of this whole process before I make a final decision as to becoming a member of the University."

The boy smiled in delight, "I would welcome your company," added he in a quiet, embarrassed voice, "I was afraid to make such a journey alone." Tristan smiled warmly in encouragement at the anxious boy's honesty, remembering his own sudden and lonely immersion in the wide world and how the kindness of a stranger had changed everything in his own case.

It was certainly a strange offer, but Tristan felt it must be done, maybe he was just a sap for boys in troubled situations? He glanced wryly at Pallin, who had once been a half-starved stable boy until Tristan took him under his wing. Geff was in just as much need of help, if not more so, Pallin at least had some commonsense and experience with the world's indifference towards strangers. The boy would either starve in the wilderness or be set upon by bandits or wild beasts, if he set out alone. Pallin glanced uneasily at Tristan, wondering what he was supposed to do, when Tristan said, "I will go with you then, while Pallin stays on at the University as a student." Geff beamed, but Pallin glowered at Tristan, who could only grin wryly in reply. The younger man sighed heavily in acceptance, the last thing he wanted was to be left alone at this melting pot of absurdity, but he understood someone had to keep an eye on things here in case any of these Brotherhood characters showed up. The boy would be utterly lost in the real world and Tristan could protect him, while at the same time traveling with the boy might reveal more about the Brotherhood's plot concerning the University and its students.

Pallin soon found himself in a red robe, for his interest in Philosophy and Logic, though certainly not as delighted thereby as most of the eager students strutting proudly about like courting barnyard fowl. He could have chosen green, but he was not sure he could stomach any more fungus lectures. The philosophy lectures were sure to irritate him with their inanity, but at least they kept him awake. He was assigned to Geff's room, as he would be leaving shortly, and would also replace Geff in washing dishes after lunch every day. Geff spent the next few days finishing up his course requirements while Pallin spent the time learning what it meant to be a student at the University. Tristan spent his time preparing for the upcoming journey, as there was no way he would entrust such preparations to the eager but clueless Geff! His first task was to locate a proper horse for the boy, he may think himself an expert in horsemanship but Tristan doubted he had ever spent done more than watch the creatures from a distance. He finally found a docile grey gelding that appeared to have both speed and stamina, they would need both on their journey; he also procured the necessary food and equipment for the boy, who blithely thought he could set out with nothing but the clothes on his back and the thoughts in his head!

The three met on the lawn the morning of their parting, Pallin said his farewells and Tristan said he would keep in contact as best he could. Privately they had discussed what Pallin should do, should any members of the Brotherhood appear on campus. Geff was a little disappointed to be setting out on horseback, as it was considered a badge of honor to set out on foot, but since he was an expert in horsemanship, it must be acceptable in his case. He eyed the great horse with concern, for the gelding was much taller than his former pony. Tristan smiled at the boy's awkwardness, but helped him into the saddle while Taragon snorted in amusement. Some of Geff's friends came to bid him farewell, several of them looked at the horse in disapproval or openly scowled at Tristan's sword, but the man only smiled genially and swung into his own saddle, turning Taragon, they soon left their well-wishers far behind. Geff's horse followed Taragon of his own accord, otherwise Geff might well have been stranded! Riding a horse was vastly different than being perched in the saddle while someone led your pony, the boy clung desperately to the saddle and tried to think positive thoughts at his seemingly fearsome mount, but the gelding did not seem to care, continuing to follow the other horse as if he had no rider at all.

The first few days, Geff spent most of his time just trying to figure out how to survive in camp and how to stay aback his horse. No matter how many positive thoughts he sent towards the shaggy grey head, nothing seemed to sink in. In desperation, he finally resorted to more traditional methods of horsemanship. Eventually, he figured out the basics of getting on and off, saddling, grooming, cleaning hooves, using the reins, stop, go, back, forward, how to change gaits, and using hobbles. He learned more about horses in two days on the road than he had learned in a lifetime elsewhere. Camping was something else entirely. He was not used to sleeping with just a blanket and a cloak on the hard, often damp ground, especially in the rain. He woke up far too early, discovering once you were awake you could not get back to sleep. Meals were simple and consisted mostly of dried or salted food that would keep on the trail.

He woke up stiff and cold, and as he was not used to riding, his muscles ached terribly. Tristan pitied him, but soon enough his body would acclimate to the rigors of travel, though Geff feared he was doomed to six months of such discomfort, this whole journey thing was a lot tougher than Geff had anticipated. He had imagined walking through sunlit woods, crossing babbling brooks, and running through flower-filled meadows. Anticipating crowds of people would gather to hear him and hang on every word, and thereafter would treat him like a King for thus enlightening them. He was glad Tristan was with him, otherwise he would be lost, miserable, and hungry instead of just sleep-deprived and sore. They had been on the road a week but had yet to encounter anyone or anywhere that seemed a likely target for his expostulations. Tristan kept their initial pace to a crawl, allowing the boy to acclimate to the rigors of travel, but soon they would travel much more swiftly.

That night, they would visit their first inn. Tristan said he would treat the boy that night, but thereafter it was up to Geff to procure lodgings and food if he wished for a change in their camping routine. It was a pleasant little inn, somewhere in the borderlands between Arca, Syre, and the sea, sitting alongside the main road that paralleled the coast at the juncture with a major road heading west, the place was full of travelers and locals who enjoyed the ale and talk. Tristan told Geff that he was on his own and could handle the crowd as he saw fit, the man took a chair in the back and waited to see what the young man intended. Most of the people in the common room paid little or no heed to a mere boy, a few looked towards him curiously, some with scorn.

Geff stood by the fireplace and quietly began, "horses are quite interesting beasts...they umm have been...uh...enslaved by humans for centuries and ahh...suffer terribly under our brutal lordship...uh...I have developed a...method umm...of increasing the err...efficacy of communication with our...equine er friends." Tristan pitied the poor boy, but he must learn the hard way, or it would never sink in, that he really knew nothing of importance, let alone anything that people would pay to hear. The wretched boy spluttered and mumbled on for a good fifteen minutes, by now every eye in the place was fixed on the boy, most of the faces held barely restrained laughter. Finally, the audience could take it no longer and laughter racked the room. Geff flushed crimson and tried to find a place to quietly disappear, but he was forced to walk through the entire guffawing crowd in order to flee out the open door. Tristan quietly followed.

He found the boy weeping on the woodpile. "They thought I was funny!" sobbed the boy, "I have worked so hard and thought my ideas were so profound! No one who read my thesis thought it laughable."

Tristan put an arm around the distraught youth and said, "there is a big difference between the things that go on at your University and life in the real world. You said you never left Dara? There is a whole wide world out here and you cannot survive in it with the nonsense and lunacy that passes for knowledge at the University. The poorest farmer has more sense than any of your professors! At the University, you are sheltered and protected from reality, and all sorts of useless or illogical philosophies can exist, but out here, you need commonsense to survive. No one in there cares about fungal taxonomy, but they know all sorts of things that help them make a living at whatever it is they do. I would rather spend an hour talking to one of them than a minute listening to some puffed-up, harebrained professor. In the last week you have learned a great deal about actual horsemanship, but did any of your professors question the validity of your theories on horsemanship? You wrote a two hundred page essay on pure nonsense! Now you can continue in this idle vein, or you can spend some time talking to real people and maybe even learn a few things worth knowing."

The boy wiped the tears from his face as a determined look entered his eyes, "you really think my methods are nonsensical?"

"Did it work on your gelding?" asked Tristan with a slight smile.

"No," said the boy morosely, "but what about my future as a Scholar?"

"No one said you could not complete your journey and then return to the University and work to change the system," said Tristan.

"Change the system?" asked Geff in shock.

"The University is a good idea: to spread knowledge and skills to those who need them," said Tristan, "but in its current form, it is propagating nonsense and anyone who gives enough money can call themselves a Professor and rattle away about whatever they want, with no requirement to actually know anything! They need a system to make sure those doing the teaching are qualified to do so and they need to offer material that has some practical use in real life."

"So I have wasted the last two years of my life?" asked the stunned Geff.

"I would not say you have wasted it, but you could have used it more productively," said Tristan gently, "at least you are now aware of the folly associated with the University's current mode of operation and perhaps can do something about it."

"If you know this about the University, why are you tagging along with me and why is Pallin currently enrolled there?" asked the boy with a quizzical frown.

Tristan laughed in delight, "you have a very quick mind, lad! You will do well if we can get it directed into a proper channel. Pallin and I are trying to figure out who is behind the propagation of such nonsense and if we can rectify the situation."

"Can I help?" asked the boy hopefully.

"You already are," said Tristan, "we will continue on your Journey as planned, but instead of sharing your wisdom, you will be asking other people to share theirs with you. By the end of this journey you should have amassed a great deal to think about and may perhaps be able to use it to enlighten your friends and colleagues."

"What are you going to do?" asked the boy.

"For now, I will travel with you and hope to find out more about the schemes behind the University. I have a feeling that agents of whoever is behind all this are to be found upon the road, monitoring or assisting in the dispersal of so much misinformation. I think your school is the beginning of a great plan to destroy knowledge, wisdom, and truth as we know it. If it works in Syre and Arca, it will likely spread to the rest of the world," said Tristan. The boy was wide-eyed at the very idea of such plots and conspiracies, he had thought the University simply a place to learn and exchange ideas, a place that hoped to improve the lives of common men. They went back inside and sat down to a hearty supper, Geff ecstatic to sleep in a bed again. The next day, much refreshed and with a new sense of duty, they set off in search of true knowledge.

### Chapter 7

In the dungeons of Arca, Trap had spent a long time thinking and rethinking, racking his mind over his past and future. He had talked to Bristol on numerous occasions about many topics, but still he could not bring himself to a final decision on whether to abandon his former masters or not. One did not simply say, 'I am finished,' and walk away from a lifetime of evil. Or could you? It was not humanly possible to transform into a new person overnight, he might even die if he tried to disentangle himself from the grip of evil. Of course, had he been completely committed to his evil cause, he should have willed himself to die the minute he was captured. Instead, he moldered in a cell awaiting an uncertain future. He might die if he tried to free himself of his dark oaths, but he most certainly would die if he chose not to repent, he would be executed for murder or should will himself to die. If he was dead anyway, what was holding him back?

He was afraid to face life without his shield of evil, his only purpose. His pursuit of power had led him down many dark and twisted paths, without that purpose his life had no direction or reason. A ceasing of existence, as he once thought death would bring, had been a comfort and a retreat, but he truly wondered if Tristan was correct in saying that something terrible awaited him beyond the grave, rather than blissful oblivion. He and his comrades were considered tools by their masters, and if one was no longer useful or was lost or broken, it was not of great concern: you were simply replaced. Tristan had shown more concern for him than he had ever received from anyone associated with the Brotherhood. He had thought all people selfish and cold, but it was he who had shut everyone else out and let darkness fester in his own heart. He yearned for the simple joys of human companionship; he wanted his humanity back. He fell to the floor, and for the first time in living memory, he wept.

Bristol found him some hours later, a broken and fragile man. He had lost everything he had ever depended upon or believed in, he did not know who or what he was, he only knew he could no longer endure the darkness or the solitude. Bristol had compassion for the shriveled shell of a man before him and opened the cell. He gently lifted the man, supporting him as they walked out of the dungeons and into the sunlit gardens. The sun shone merrily on a myriad of flowers, somewhere a bird sang, a cool breeze played among the leaves. They sat in silence on a stone bench in the shade of a great oak. Trap sat in the sun and simply absorbed its warmth. He took in the sights, sounds, and smells with a joy he had not known since childhood, looking at the world about him with a childish sense of delight and wonder. What had he been seeking before that compared to all this? He felt that if he could sit in the garden for the rest of his days, it would not be a wasted life. Somewhere high above, music drifted from an open window, a light, airy tune that minded one of a cool autumn evening with geese on the wing and the trees afire with the colors of sunset. He had not allowed himself to experience such peace or joy since he was a small boy, abandoning himself fully to the rigors and darkness of his work. He had lost himself in evil and was only now realizing that of all men, he knew himself least.

"I do not know who I am," said he in a quiet, pained voice.

"Time will reveal that," said Bristol gently.

"I have wrought such evil and sold my very soul into darkness! What hope is there for me?" despaired Trap.

"There is always hope," said Bristol quietly, "even for the most hardened soul. No choice need be final this side of death."

"I have nothing left to cling to," sighed Trap, "everything I once knew is gone. What is the meaning in anything? Where do I go? What do I do?"

"There is meaning and purpose in everything," said Bristol brightly, "as long as you are breathing, you will find a purpose."

"How?" asked the man desperately.

"Seek the Master," was all Bristol said.

Trap was allowed the use of a well-guarded room high up in one of the towers of the castle. Sunshine and fresh air streamed through the open window, occasionally sounds of music, birdsong, or laughter were carried thence on an errant breeze; it was a pleasant and quiet retreat for one who had dwelt long in darkness. Seek the Master? To him, the Master had ever been a figure from the distant past, who had succumbed to the weaknesses of mercy and compassion, but the Brethren seemed to think him alive and powerful. And stranger still, they said he was willing to reach out to anyone. Even him! How could you turn to someone you had denied your entire life, especially after having slain several of his servants, among many others? It was a strange proposal but he had ample time to think thereupon. While Trap debated within himself, his captors also discussed what should be done with the prisoner. Technically, he should stand trial for his crimes and then be executed, but in his shattered mind lurked vital information about the Brotherhood of the Serpent, their deadliest opponent. It was decided that he should be taken to Astoria, since it was the Brethren who accused him of murder, once he was fit to travel, and his fate would be left to the Lady. Bristol continued to visit with the man as often as he desired. Arora occasionally accompanied Bristol and played for the broken man, her music seemed to ease his tormented soul, but neither knew what the future held for him.

Pallin, now an official student at the University, attended enough lectures so as not to arouse suspicion, but not any more than absolutely necessary. He was of an age with many of the boys who attended and started to make friends among them. They were eager to learn and worked hard at everything they did, but their thinking was so backwards and illogical that it nearly drove Pallin mad. Every night at the debate, he tried to counter some of their baffling logic, but most of the time he was excluded from the stump by those who disliked his interference. He tried to speak with various professors, only to discover they had little time for students, they were much too important to be bothered with such menial tasks. The few he was able to engage in a brief exchange, spoke only of their areas of interest, and would say nothing of where they had acquired their knowledge or why anyone would care to hear about it. Most had attained their position by donating generously to the school and carried themselves with a pride and importance far superior to their supposed mental abilities. The students looked up to them with a respect verging on awe, as if the sons of the gods had deigned to walk briefly upon the same soil trodden by mortal men. Pallin doubted even the most reverent of the Brethren doted that much upon the Lady! That sort of respect was due to the Master alone, and should not be wasted on mere mortals. On a brighter note, he decided washing dishes was not so bad, he could have been assigned to haul rubbish to the refuse pile. He kept his eyes open for any sinister or important looking visitors, but he saw no one but students and professors strolling importantly about the campus.

Geff was a month into his journey, in that time the youth had become a respectable horseman, and had learned much in his various encounters with the common folk. People were very happy to talk to someone so obviously interested in what they had to say, and was a vast relief from being yammered at ceaselessly by other journeying students who had not learned the restraint forced upon Geff by his initial embarrassment. On several occasions, he was invited to spend a couple days with a farmer or craftsman who was more than happy to show him the finer points of his trade. Tristan even began showing him how to use a sword and teaching him the basics of archery. Geff was having the time of his life and actually learning something to boot. True, he may never raise potatoes or make a barrel, but it was interesting to know how things were made and where they came from, and never did he use his knowledge of the various ways to classify fungus.

One night they sat in the common room of an inn, just watching the other guests, enjoying the homey sights and sounds after another long day of travel. Lightning flashed outside as a bedraggled young man crept in out of the storm, he was thin and weary, but he held himself confidently and determination glinted in his eyes. He approached the innkeeper, inquiring about the possibility of exchanging some sage advice for supper and a bed. The man replied that he could wash the dishes and sweep the floor in exchange for a few scraps and a sleeping place in the stable. The boy agreed, obviously desperate for food and shelter, but asked that he be allowed to share some important advice with the gathered patrons. The innkeeper rolled his eyes and walked away, apparently this was a common occurrence; the boy stood at the front of the room and rattled away about the finer points of draconian anatomy.

Tristan, who had actually met a few dragons, could only wonder where the boy acquired his information, probably the same place Geff discovered his ideas on horsemanship! After a quarter of an hour, he finally wound down and asked for questions, but most of the guests ignored him or stared at him blankly. Having apparently mystified his audience with his knowledge, or lack thereof, he went in search of the innkeeper to see about his dinner. Most of the patrons shook off their confused looks and resumed whatever they had been doing before the interruption. One man sat in the corner, puffing a pipe and smiling broadly, he at least seemed pleased with the presentation, which was enough to draw Tristan's attention.

The door banged open again, and another wet traveler shook the rain from his cloak. He found a place near the fire and went about the tedious business of trying to dry his soaked paraphernalia, while Geff turned his attention to Tristan and said, "did I sound that confusing and pompous?"

Tristan laughed, "you were very confusing, but you had not yet practiced enough to achieve that level of arrogance and contempt for your audience."

"Thanks, I think," smiled Geff wanly.

"You are very welcome," said Tristan, with a broad smile and clapping him encouragingly on the back, "you have improved greatly since then. In fact, I may be leaving you to your own devices very soon if nothing 'interesting' happens in the next couple of weeks." The boy looked stunned at the thought of being left alone in the wide world. Tristan could almost read his thoughts, "do not worry," said he, "you are now much more ready to face the world than I was when my own turn came. You will do very well, much better than most of your colleagues I think." The newcomer by the fire glanced casually around the room and started when he saw Tristan, he ceased trying to dry his clothes and approached their table.

"What brings you to this soggy part of the world?" asked the stranger of Tristan.

Tristan smiled delightedly, "have a seat Turin! It is good to see you. I hoped to follow up on a lead, but I am beginning to think it a futile effort. What are you up to?"

"Oh, the usual," said Turin, taking a seat at their table, "chasing down nefarious evil-doers and protecting the weak from those that would prey upon them. Who is your friend?"

"He is a student from the University," said Tristan, grinning at his friend's startled reaction, "he has learned the value of opening his ears and shutting his mouth."

"I see," said Turin skeptically, "so why is he chasing about with you?"

"Rather I am chasing about with him," laughed Tristan, at his friend's confusion, "What do you know of the University?"

"Not much," said Turin thoughtfully, "only that it sends out hordes of ill-educated boys to starve in the wilderness while pretending to share deep and forgotten wisdom."

Tristan leaned closer to his friend, "I think this University has something to do with the Brotherhood. It is a ridiculous institution with good intentions, but I think they are unknowingly serving the agenda of the Brotherhood."

"I could certainly believe that," said Turin, "you can hardly get anyone to listen to you anymore, they are so tired of being preached at that no one will listen to anything, even from a reputable source!"

"Do you know the man in the corner?" asked Tristan. Turin glanced briefly at the man, still smoking his pipe.

"No," said Turin, "but evil rolls off him like spray from the sea. I have encountered an occasional man like him in my journeys. Whatever they are up to, it is not good."

"I wonder," said Tristan, "he may be an agent of the Brotherhood. I have encountered similar feeling men and each time that is what they have turned out to be. Should we do anything about him?"

"I have just finished my latest mission and currently have no pressing duties," said Turin, "perhaps I can keep an eye on him? I would hate to have him do something terrible that we could prevent, but neither can we engage him unless we know that there is something more sinister about him than a fondness for tobacco."

Tristan nodded his agreement, "have you been through Arca lately?"

"Not in a couple months, but I have heard no bad news," replied Turin.

"Perhaps that is where we shall head next," said Tristan. The boy smiled eagerly, he longed to see a city besides Dara. "How are things otherwise?" asked Tristan.

"Besides not being able to talk to people, not bad," said Turin, "at least I am not aware of any more mysterious disappearances on our part."

Tristan nodded grimly, "I think we have that loose end tied up at least." Turin smiled hopefully but did not question further in the boy's presence.

The other student then emerged from the kitchen, with a red face and wrinkled hands, he had apparently been washing dishes, resuming his place by the fire, he began "most distinguished guests, I hope you enjoyed my previous talk. Now I will give a brief dissertation on the more peculiar draconian subspecies."

The two men and the boy exchanged pained looks. "I am off to bed," laughed Turin, "I am not sure I can stomach any more of these lectures." With a smile and a nod, he bid them goodnight.

"Who was that?" asked Geff.

"An old friend," smiled Tristan, "I have not seen him in years, our duties keep us on the road and often half a world a part."

"What duties?" asked Geff.

"We share a common goal of helping others and making the world a better place," said Tristan, "he maintains justice and protects the innocent from those who might otherwise take advantage of them. I uncover evil in its myriad forms and try to stop it." The boy scratched his head in confusion but asked no more questions.

By now, the other student had finished his speech and was glancing expectantly around the room, his gaze fell on Geff, and recognition dawned in his eyes. The boy gave an exaggerated bow, leaving his indifferent audience in peace for a time, he came over and stood by Tristan's table and said to Geff, "well, well what have we here? I did not think to find you upon the road."

"Hello Raye," said Geff glumly.

"Who is your friend?" demanded the boy, "Have you found a wealthy benefactor?"

Tristan shook his head and said, "I am just a friend accompanying him on his journey until our paths bifurcate. And who might you be?"

"I am called Raye," said the boy expansively, as if all the world should fall prostrate in awe at such a pronouncement. When no one fell down in worship, he continued, "I am a student at the University and am over halfway through my journey. Someday I shall be a professor and share my extensive knowledge of all things draconian with the masses."

"Fascinating," said Tristan, "and where have you acquired this extensive knowledge?"

"I have read books and talked to people and theorized on the intricacies of dragons," said the boy proudly.

"That is what I thought," said Tristan wryly, "you have imparted much information tonight that many have never even dreamed of hearing." This was Tristan's diplomatic way of saying the boy had no clue what he was talking about.

The boy seemed to take the comment as his due and sat down importantly, asked he of Geff, "now what have you done since we parted?"

"I have learned much upon the road, not the least of which was how much I have yet to learn," said Geff defensively.

"I see," said Raye with an apparent lack of interest, "well, I must be about my duties. Not all of us have the luxury of a free meal." He got up and returned to the kitchen, as he did so, the shady man in the corner called him over and briefly said something. The boy smiled broadly and thanked the man, apparently for congratulating him on his knowledge or speaking abilities. The boy returned to the kitchens as the man got up and approached Tristan's table.

"Greetings my friends," said the oily man as he seated himself, "I have very much enjoyed the presentation by the other young man," he glanced at Geff and continued, "and are you not also one of these remarkable young men courageously traveling the wilds in their quest to share their knowledge?"

Geff looked at the tabletop and said, "yes sir."

"Then why do you not share your invaluable wisdom with all gathered herein?" asked the wheedling man.

"Raye is a much more accomplished speaker," said Geff, "and I do not wish to steal the day from him. Besides, I would be terribly disappointing by comparison."

The man looked sourly at Tristan, "why do you hinder the boy in sharing his wisdom?"

"I have nothing to do with it," replied Tristan, "the boy may do as it pleases him. I merely accompany him while our paths coincide."

"What are you afraid of?" snapped the man at Geff.

"Sir," said the boy, "I will share my knowledge when it is worth sharing, but at the moment the least wise among the people in this room knows more than I."

"This is not the attitude taught at the University," scoffed the man.

"No," said Tristan with a slight smile, "it is the voice of experience. He has learned that there is a difference between knowledge and wisdom, and he has wisely chosen not to bore those here gathered with useless information."

"He has a very promising future if only he will embrace it," said the man.

"He does have a promising future," agreed Tristan, "and he will find his place soon enough, but for now he has chosen humility over unwarranted pride, an excellent beginning, the very beginning of wisdom."

"No one asked you," snarled the man, "and I would stay out of this if I were you. You are as bad as one of those cursed Brethren, always spouting self-righteous piety every chance they get!"

"I do not know about the Brethren, but I thought it was simply common sense," grinned Tristan.

"Mark me," said the man, "you will regret interfering in matters you know nothing about!" He stood abruptly and stormed out into the night. Geff felt a chill run down his spine, he had never encountered such open hostility before, especially over something so trivial.

"What was all that about?" asked he anxiously.

"I am not sure," mused Tristan, frowning slightly, "but he is the only one here who seems to appreciate the University's efforts to educate the masses." Geff laughed nervously but Tristan did not join in.

The rest of the guests had gone home or retreated to their rooms, but Tristan and Geff still sat in the common room. Raye swept the floor, but kept glancing towards them in irritation; he did not like having to beg for his supper, especially when a freeloader like Geff could get his for nothing! Finally, Tristan stood and headed for their room as Geff followed eagerly. "I am going to check in on Turin," said Tristan, "you should probably go to bed." Geff nodded sleepily and slipped into their room while Tristan tapped on Turin's door, which opened immediately.

"Where is your creepy friend?" asked Turin, once the door was shut, "I saw something of his conversation with you, he's a nasty piece of work!"

"I do not know," said Tristan, "he stormed out into the downpour, but he threatened that I would regret 'interfering,' so I doubt we have seen the last of him, at least I no longer have any doubts as to his loyalties." Turin nodded grimly.

A scream of terror rent the night, the men reflexively drew their swords and dashed into the empty hall. A white-faced Raye pointed silently towards Geff's room. Tristan quietly opened the door and jumped back. Nothing happened. Cautiously they crept into the room, swords drawn. Lightning flashed outside the open window and rain streamed in. A movement in the corner caught Tristan's eye and he set himself for attack. "Ahhh!" yelped Geff, "Don't hurt me!" Tristan pulled up short, his sword inches from the boy's face.

"What happened?" gasped Tristan.

"A...a...thing," stuttered the terrified boy, "came in through the window. I was paralyzed with fear. It searched the room, glared at me, and fled out the window." By now, Turin had a candle lit.

"What was it?" asked Tristan calmly.

"I think it was a man," said Geff, "but I have never felt such fear in the presence of anyone before."

"I think it was our friend from earlier tonight," said Tristan grimly, "he came to make sure I would not meddle in your affairs any longer and when he did not find me, he fled." Tristan turned to Turin, "what do you think?"

Turin nodded, "I can hunt him down, you should keep the boy safe."

Tristan said, "if the man had wanted the boy dead, he could easily have killed him just now. Perhaps I should just let him go about his own business and he will be left alone?"

Geff chimed in, "what if we continue to travel together and I act as bait?"

"Are you serious?" asked Tristan.

"How else are we going to catch him?" asked the boy.

"He has a point," said Turin.

Tristan turned to Geff and said, "you do realize that your life will be in danger if we go through with this?" The boy nodded eagerly, he thought this was going to be fun! All three spent the night in Turin's room, the men taking turns standing watch.

### Chapter 8

The next day, Tristan and the boy set off together, while Turin waited an hour, following at a distance, hoping to find some trace of the stranger if he gave chase. For three days, they traveled towards Arca with neither sight nor sign of pursuit, but on the third night, it clouded over, with no moon nor stars casting their light, as they sat in the darkness around a cheery fire, a shroud of evil drained all the warmth out of the once bright blaze, leaving it a small, pitiable thing. A menacing voice out of nowhere said, "I told you to leave things alone; you should have listened." The darkness thickened into something almost palpable and menace quivered in the air. A chill wind gusted. The fire flickered and died. Darkest night engulfed the camp. Ominous footsteps came one by one, as if some creature, far bigger than a man, slowly drew nigh, the hissing of each breath echoed heavily in the darkness. Its eyes glowed as if lit by internal flames as it towered well above their heads. The monster stopped before them, a dark shadow with glowing eyes, a voice calling triumphantly from its back, "I told you to leave well enough alone! Now you will die, slowly, and then I will take the boy and train him properly."

Geff's horse, having caught scent of the monster, screamed in terror and tried to flee, though its hobbles made flight difficult, the frightened beast was determined. Taragon screamed a challenge to the beast and loped into the camp, ready for battle; Tristan flung the boy on the great stallion's back, "hold on tight! If things go ill here, you must ride for all you are worth."

The evil man laughed, "no mere horse can outrun my pet! I will have the boy whenever I desire, but first I will deal with you." Tristan bared his sword and prepared for the fight of his life. The creature snarled and leapt towards Tristan, jaws wide and claws ready. Fighting one of the monsters from the back of an angry unicorn was one thing, facing one afoot in the dark was quite another!

When the beast was nearly upon him, another equine scream of rage rent the night as a startling flash momentarily blinded Tristan, he stumbled backward in surprise, but a delighted smile of relief was painted across his dazed countenance, for Turin had come. It was an even fight, the horror slashed out with teeth, claws, and whip-like tail, while the unicorn fought with hooves, teeth, and horn, though neither rider could do much besides hang on to their erratically swaying mounts, their swords useless in their hands. A familiar crunch, barely audible above the snarling beast and screaming unicorn, met Tristan's ear, as the milky red crystal embedded in the monster's breastplate was crushed and the man lost control over his mount, which was now freed from whatever bewitchment had held it in the man's sway. The thing went wild, threw off its rider, and ran off snarling into the darkness. Turin froze a moment, but Tristan motioned for him to follow the fell beast and destroy it; he nodded grimly, before charging into the darkness in close pursuit.

The fallen man gained his feet, snarly, "very nice but I can easily dispose of you even without my pet, and this shall be far more satisfying!"

"Stand down and I will spare your life," said Tristan grimly, sword in hand.

"You have no authority over me," scoffed the man, "and I certainly will not surrender. You must kill me or I will kill you." The miasma of fear thickened around the pair as they closed for battle, Geff looked ready to faint, but the cloud of paranoia had no effect on Tristan. "You are not afraid?" asked the man in skeptical horror.

"I have nothing to fear from you," said Tristan quietly, setting himself.

"So be it!" snarled the man, lunging at Tristan. The man was skilled in the attack, and charged repeatedly, but he rarely bothered to defend himself. One of his blows caught Tristan across the flank, opening a wide gash along his side, long, but not deep, a mere nuisance. Tristan barely flinched, pressing his attack and dealing a final blow to his attacker, before falling to his knees and clutching at his wounded side. The evil man likewise crumpled to the ground, both knowing his own wound was fatal. It was only a matter of time, but the villain laughed cruelly through his gasps for breath, "at least I shall see you dead before I succumb to my wound."

"It...it ...is only a flesh wound," gasped Tristan pathetically.

"Yes," laughed the dark man, "but my blade is fatal no matter where it strikes, and you took a great wound not far from the heart. It will not be long." Painfully, Tristan removed his tunic and stared down at the angry red wound, which throbbed terribly, hurting more than anything he could remember in over a century of such injury. "How does it feel to die without hope?" gasped the man.

"There...is always...hope..." panted Tristan, as he slumped to the side and lost consciousness, his breathing slow and erratic.

"Not long now," rasped the man with his own failing breath. Taragon, still with Geff on his back, approached and nuzzled at his fallen master. "Foolish beast! You can do nothing," wheezed the man. Taragon found the gaping wound and gently began to lick it, wherever his tongue touched, the redness and swelling retreated, leaving only a healthy wound. Tristan's breathing normalized and the color returned to his face. "How?" wailed the stricken man, "it cannot be...impossible!" he trailed off, coughed a few times, and said no more. The man's body dissolved, leaving only an oily stain on the trampled vegetation.

"Tristan!" gasped Turin, stepping out of the shadows and rushing to the fallen man's side.

He eased Tristan into a sitting position as his friend began to stir, "what?"

"You are the first man ever to owe his life to drool," laughed Turin in relief.

"Drool?" asked Tristan dazedly.

"Yes," said Turin in wonder, "the faithful creature drooled all over that nice little wound of yours and all the redness and swelling vanished."

Tristan laughed weakly, "Pallin took a similar wound and it was unicorn tears that saved him, but I get unicorn spit?" Taragon seemed very pleased with himself, whickering happily at Tristan's swift recovery from his deathlike faint.

Geff finally found his tongue, still perched aback the well-pleased beast, "how did you catch a unicorn and tame it?" Both men laughed joyously, more in relief than at the boy's misperception.

Turin replied, "you cannot catch them or tame them, lad. They are thinking creatures, just like you and me, sometimes I think they are smarter than men, at least less reckless. The only way a unicorn will bear a man is if he decides to; they serve us of their own choice."

"I would like to ride a unicorn," laughed the boy.

"You already are," chuckled Tristan weakly. The boy glanced down at Taragon, who briefly allowed his true form to shine through: his white coat gleamed silver in the darkness before resuming a more natural color for a 'horse.'

"Amazing!" gasped the boy, "Who was that man and what was he riding and why did you almost die but not quite?"

"Those are a lot of questions, but I will do my best," grinned Turin, "that man belonged to a group known as the Brotherhood of the Serpent: they are evil men who sell their very souls in exchange for powers dark and terrible. Some of their witchery includes the ability to control the monsters they ride, the ability to put deadly spells upon their weapons, and the ability to produce an aura of fear about themselves. Most men would faint dead away or flee in abject terror in the presence of such fear. Tristan was struck by one of their tainted blades and would have died had not his faithful steed drooled all over him. I knew unicorn tears could drive away evil, but I had no idea their spit was equally powerful."

The boy laughed, "now what?"

"You are going to relight the fire," said Turin, "and I am going to see to Tristan's wound."

As they went about tending to Tristan, the boy asked, "so how is it you two are lucky enough to ride unicorns?"

Tristan smiled fondly, though whether at the boy or Taragon not even he knew, probably both, "there is nothing of luck about it. We are both members of the Brethren, and one of the benefits of our service is the undying friendship of a unicorn. They are very faithful creatures and many of us are still alive because of their services." He looked wistfully off into the distance, an unbidden tear trickling down his cheek. In the silence that followed, they cleansed the wound and bandaged it with a soft cloth.

"You do not seem the type to belong to a nefarious organization intent on taking over the known world and ending all rational thought," said Geff in surprise, as Tristan settled back against a tree, eliciting a merry laugh from both his companions at such a notion.

"Now that you know who and what we are," smiled Tristan archly, "perhaps you will rethink what you have learned at that school of yours? If I had been intent on world domination, would I have bothered risking my life to save yours? Would Turin have bothered to chase down and destroy that vile beast when he could have let it run loose and terrorize innocent folk? You must decide for yourself the truth of the matter, but to the best of my knowledge, I have never discouraged you from rational thought, only from acting a fool in front of others. Are we as domineering or sinister as your Professors claim us to be?"

The boy laughed, "I cannot trust anything else I have learned at the University, so again I must trust my own experience. But why did you not tell me who you were?"

"Did you need to know or would your knowing serve any purpose save distracting you?" asked Tristan, his brows arched in query.

"No," mused the boy, "but you are so skilled that I would think you would want everyone to know about it."

"What purpose would that serve?" asked Tristan with a wry grin, "I use my skills for the benefit of others, not to accrue glory for myself. In fact, I am expressly prohibited from doing so by my Oath."

"I see," said the boy, in a tone that said exactly the opposite, "will you tell me more of the Brethren?"

"Ask whatever you wish," laughed Tristan at Geff's unconstrained eagerness.

"I will answer his questions," said Turin firmly, "you are going to bed." In fact, they all went to bed very soon afterwards, but the boy asked very many questions the next day as they traveled.

Tristan was glad to be something of an invalid, as it spared him from the boy's ravenous appetite for information, he must have driven his professors to near distraction with his endless questions! Though Tristan's side hurt and he felt rather weak, otherwise he showed no ill-effects from the night's encounter. They continued towards Arca, as fast as Tristan could comfortably manage. Three days later, Tristan awoke with a slight fever and profound weakness, but as the wound seemed to be healing normally, except for a slightly reddened spot in the middle, and they would reach Arca that day, he did not wish to bother the others with his troubles. All day, Tristan clung weakly to his saddle and drank far more water than usual; Turin watched him with growing concern, but said nothing. As evening deepened about them, they clove through the crowded city and rode into the main courtyard of the palace, servants came to fetch their horses, but as the others dismounted, Tristan fell out of his saddle and lay sprawled on the paving stones. Turin ran to his side, to find his friend unconscious and burning with fever, the confused servants stood about, watching helplessly.

Turin motioned for Geff to help lift Tristan, and asked the nearest servant, "can you take us to Arora or Bristol?" The man shook off his shock, nodded, and motioned for them to follow. They climbed ever higher into the utmost heights of the palace, until the exhausted pair carrying Tristan could go no further, but happily they had reached their destination, otherwise, mused Turin grimly, they'd have to grow wings and fly! A pair of guards stood at the door and looked at the little parade in confusion, but did not try stopping them as they burst into the tiny room. Bristol sat talking quietly with Trap while Arora idly strummed some pleasant tune on her instrument, all three looked up in surprise as the pair of men entered, settling the unconscious form on Trap's bed. Arora gasped in horror as she saw her husband's ashen face, fighting unbidden tears as she rushed to the bed and cradled his head on her lap.

"What happened?" gasped Bristol.

Turin shook his head grimly, "we ran into one of those Brotherhood characters and Tristan took a flesh wound across the flank, but it seemed to be healing well. He has been a bit weak, but we figured it was just his near brush with death when he was injured; Taragon reached him in time." Carefully Turin drew back Tristan's tunic and the bandage covering the wound. All gasped in shock and disgust when the lesion was revealed: the wound was healing nicely, except for a fist-sized, crimson nodule in the center that sent out angry red tendrils creeping ever closer to his heart.

"He has a shard from the tainted weapon embedded in the wound," said Trap quietly, "he will be dead by morning if it is not removed." In their concern for Tristan everyone had forgotten Trap's presence.

"But I thought the unicorn had fixed everything," said Geff wretchedly.

"The evil that came with the initial blow was driven away," said Trap, "but the blades carried by the servants of the Brotherhood are terrible things, if even the smallest splinter remains, its evil will eventually kill even the strongest of men." He turned to the waiting servant and said, "bring hot water, clean towels, and a dagger." The man's face paled at mention of the dagger, but Arora nodded and he dashed from the room. As they waited for the servant to return with the required supplies, Trap watched the four grieved faces staring grimly down at the prone form on the bed, Arora seemed especially distressed, and for the first time in remembrance, Trap felt compassion for a fellow creature stir in his heart.

The servant returned with the requested supplies, breaking the spell, now it was down to business, as Trap took the dagger and held it in the flame of a candle until is glowed red, before dipping it in the water until it quit hissing. Very gently, he cleansed the reddened area and patted it dry. He took the dagger and cut a small hole in the top of the nodule, releasing the fetid odor of death, filling the room with the stench, as a small amount of grey pus seeped from the hole. Trap widened his incision and allowed more of the pus to drain out, carefully wiping away the effusion before tenderly probing the wound, eventually producing a small sliver of black metal. He finished exploring the lesion, cleansed it thoroughly, and then dressed and bandaged the wound.

"He should recover fully," said Trap quietly.

Tristan's color was already improving and he was no longer hot to the touch. "Thank you," said Arora softly.

As night fell without, Tristan stirred, looking up into the gentle face of his wife, asked he archly, "am I dead?"

"Not quite yet," smiled she in relief, "though at this rate it will not be long."

"What happened?" asked he.

"You had a splinter of that awful sword buried in your wound," said Arora, "Trap dug it out."

"Trap?" gasped Tristan in surprise.

"He saved your life," said Arora. She gave him a cup of water and he retreated wonderingly into sleep.

It was nearly a week before he was strong enough to leave Trap's room, but once he began to recover, he did so with abandon. During his convalescence, he had frequent visits from Bristol, Geff, and Turin, but Arora hardly left his side; Trap, who had been relocated across the hall, was allowed to accompany Bristol on his visits. Tristan noticed a remarkable change in the man: he was no longer the cold, unfeeling monster he had been at their parting nor was he the broken shell of a man that Bristol and Arora had come to know, instead, he seemed to enjoy even the most mundane tasks and boring conversations, and he actually smiled on occasion, a real, heartfelt expression, not a cold, cruel mockery thereof. He had found his humanity at last!

There was much discussion as to their next course of action, but all agreed that Trap must be taken to Astoria. The Lady needed to know whatever details of the Brotherhood the man was willing to share, and she was the only person who could judge his case and decide his fate. At last they agreed that Arora should stay in Arca as the unofficial eyes of the Brethren while Tristan, Bristol, and Turin would escort Trap to Astoria; Geff was free to go wherever he wished.

"I want to go with you," said Geff to Tristan one day during his recovery.

"What about your Journey?" asked Tristan in surprise.

"I can learn more in Astoria than I could ever learn asking farmers about their preferred method for raising chickens," laughed the boy.

"I thought you were only allowed to visit Syre and Arca?" asked Tristan.

"We are strongly encouraged to remain in the Eastern Realms, but it is not mandatory," said Geff, "besides, you said I could accompany you as long as our paths coincided, and as I am going to Astoria too, I thought it might be convenient if we continue to travel together."

"You are more than welcome to tag along!" said Tristan with a laugh, "I just wanted to make sure you wanted to come."

"Who is Trap?" asked Geff with a slight, thoughtful frown.

"He once belonged to the Brotherhood," said Tristan grimly, "where his allegiance lies now, I do not know. He saved my life, but he is responsible for the deaths of at least three of the Brethren, and doubtless many more that we aren't even aware of. The Lady must decide his fate, but you need to know who you are traveling with. He seems to have repented, but I cannot read a man's soul, he may be as foul a villain as he was the day we captured him. I hope he has had a change of heart, as his knowledge may hold the key to the Brotherhood's undoing."

"Then you will need someone to watch your back," said Geff stoically, Tristan smiled broadly at the boy's seeming jest, but he was quite serious therein, forcing Tristan to hide his smile, lest the lad take offense!

Arora was not pleased to be left behind, especially after Tristan's narrow escape, but someone had to stay and keep an eye on things, though it might be a long wait, at least to her perception, until Bristol returned to his post after Trap was safely delivered to Astoria. The five men rode quietly away into the mounting day, Arora watched them go with a wistful sigh before returning to her duties. Much to Geff's dismay, it was a rather uneventful journey, Trap did not try to escape and was even very helpful with the camp chores! Though Geff watched him closely, as if trying to discover the habits of some strange new animal, never did he attempt anything the least interesting or nefarious; Tristan watched the boy's antics with a knowing smile, suspecting that the boy was eager for another sword fight. The three men took turns standing watch, but the prisoner never tried to escape and no enemies appeared to threaten their camp, forcing Geff to endure a rather bland adventure indeed! As they neared Astoria, Turin rode ahead, to warn the Lady of their coming, while the others followed at a more leisurely pace, to give the Lady time to prepare as she thought she must. They rode unceremoniously into the courtyard of the castle, dismounted, and a groom attended to the real horses while the unicorns were dismissed about their own business. A servant met them and led them to the Lady's small audience chamber.

Everyone, including Trap, bowed deeply; she motioned them to the waiting chairs, eager to hear the strange tale. They were seated while she paced before them, occasionally stopping to catch the glance of one or another, her gaze lingering longest on Trap, "I welcome you all to Astoria, though the circumstances of your arrival are most surprising. We have encountered several of your former colleagues, but they have always managed to kill themselves before we could speak with them. Why are you not an oily stain on the carpet?"

"Lady," began Trap, "long have I served darkness and my own selfish desires. I was on the brink of destruction when one of your servants reached out with compassion and saved my wretched life. I have known little of love and nothing of kindness, my whole life I felt there was nothing to live for but power, but I never found any joy or fulfillment therein, and at last I have come to realize the futility of such things. For a time, I was a broken and empty man, I had reneged the darkness, but found nothing to take its place. Slowly I came to realize the joy of simple things: music, conversation, or sunshine. I yearned for joy, and these simple delights began to shine a light into the stygian depths of my heart. I am now able to enjoy such things but yearn for something greater still. I long for the source of all joy, truth, and music, but I do not know how to attain what I seek or if I will be accepted should I try. What would you have of me?"

"If I could," said the Lady, "I would know all you can tell me of this vile Brotherhood."

"I will tell everything I know," replied Trap.

"Then begin," said the Lady firmly. She took her chair and looked at Trap expectantly.

He began, "the Brotherhood of the Serpent began not long after the events that led to the foundation of the Brethren, for The Brotherhood was the Evil One's answer to the Brethren. Long have they dwelt and acted in secret, quietly doing whatever they could to confound the Master's plans and His servants. Evil and greedy men who seek out such power are somehow drawn to someone already immersed in it, the new recruit is then apprenticed to a full-fledged member while various rites, dark and evil, must be performed in the process of swearing one's very soul to the Evil One. When at last our training is complete, we are sent into the north to charm one of those dreadful Lurkers, mastering such a beast is the final sign that you are now a master within the Brotherhood.

There is no central organization or official rank within the system and we rarely meet, but there is a sort of informal hierarchy. There is a central head, but I do not know his name or location, I believe he communicates directly with the Evil One, who is said to shroud himself in the guise of a Black Dragon, or so I was once told. It is he who coordinates and plans our various tasks and assignments; we are never told more than we need to know. My assignment was to oversee the progress of our experiment in pandemonium in the east, specifically in the city of Arca. Messengers are sent directly to each agent in the field or left in an agreed upon location from time to time, occasionally an agent appears to check on our progress, but there is no direct communication with the mysterious leader, save for the privileged few. The goal of the Brotherhood is to enable our masters to eventually overthrow the entire world and cover it in darkness and evil: to remake it in their own image. So far, the forces of good have triumphed, but the Brotherhood merely regroups after every failure and strikes again somewhere else. Those are the basics, have you any specific questions?"

"Thank you," said the Lady, standing again, "you did not beg for pardon or demand it in exchange for your information? You stand accused of murdering three of my servants, not to mention the other evils you have perpetrated that we are as yet unaware of. What have you to say?"

Trap said quietly, "I am guilty of far greater sins than you could possibly imagine, my Lady! I will not beg for mercy, as I know I do not deserve it. That you have helped me regain my soul is enough; I am content. Do with me as you wish, I will face whatever your justice demands."

The Lady replied grimly, "you speak the truth. Your information will be vital in the coming days, for I fear this Brotherhood of yours has only begun to give us trouble. You have recanted of your sins and have regained your soul, while that does not undo the evils you have wrought in the past, perhaps it gives hope for the future? You have also saved the life of one of my servants, and for that I am deeply grateful. The law demands your head for the least of your crimes, but mercy and justice may be achieved through another means. If you truly seek the Master and will dedicate your reclaimed soul to His purposes, you will be pardoned from death, however you must realize that in so doing, you are losing any claim on your own dreams, wishes, or desires. You will be at my beck and call and I will send you into the very heart of danger. It is no more and no less than I demand of each of my servants. Because of your precarious circumstances, should you take the Oath and then violate or repudiate it, you will still be held accountable for whatever justice demands. I am not letting you go free of charge, nor am I forcing you into a decision. for the Oath cannot be forced, rather I am giving you a choice, though both will claim your life. One choice simply gives it purpose and direction; the other satisfies justice but is a terrible waste. Which will you choose?"

Astonishingly, Trap fell to his knees before the Lady and said, "I know little of this Master of yours and I know how little I deserve His mercy, but if you will have me, my life is yours to do with as you will. Perhaps you can put it to greater use than I." That night, before all there gathered, Trap took his Oath and swore his life to serve the Master and the Lady, and for the first time in his life, he felt hope and peace stirring in his soul.

### Chapter 9

The last two months had been difficult for Arora, she tired of her present circumstances and longed for something more meaningful; she supposed it would help if she knew exactly what she was supposed to be doing instead of simply watching for anything 'suspicious.' Tristan and his party had ridden off with the sunrise a few days before, leaving her to go about her daily business as court bard. Today she sat with the King's fourth daughter, he had six, in her rooms high atop one of the towers. The girl frequently requested Arora's presence, though Arora suspected it was more for someone to listen to the girl's romantic ambitions than for her musical abilities. As the fourth of six daughters, and by no means the handsomest, her chances of marrying well were not very good. Her father would probably marry her off in some political alliance with a sixty year old duke or consign her to the fifth cousin of some minor lord. She of course, dreamed of a handsome prince or at least a daring knight, but flights of fancy and the passions of the heart seldom mattered in such circumstances. As the girl talked of her longings for true love and a man less than twice her age, Arora played a bright, cheery melody on her instrument hoping to lighten the mood. A shadow passed over the ground outside and several people looked up, screaming as a monstrous green dragon flew towards the castle, alighting on one of the towers. He climbed effortlessly up the side of the tower, as if he were a lizard on a stone wall, which was indeed the case, just on a humongous scale, and put his monstrous eye up to a window. Arora quit playing in surprise at the sudden appearance of the great eye, but said nothing, but she had no need, as the girl shrieked vehemently enough to satisfy them both. At first Arora thought she was frightened, but then realized in growing astonishment, that she had screamed in delight.

"Finally!" said the girl, "I knew you would come."

"You did?" asked the confused dragon.

"Of course," said the girl, "I knew I was not destined for a marriage of political convenience. Princesses are destined for greater things, true love not least among them."

"I see," said the dragon, who clearly did not understand a word she was saying.

"By tradition, ladies who are kidnapped by dragons must marry the man who rescues them," said the girl excitedly, "and no old man or whiny boy will dare face a dragon! Therefore, whoever comes to my rescue will be brave, handsome, and rich. So being kidnapped by a dragon is the most expedient way to ensure an agreeable marriage."

"Fascinating," said the dragon, puzzlement strong in his voice, "but I did not come to kidnap anyone, unless you happen to be a talented musician? I do have a weakness for fine music."

"But you must kidnap me!" whined the girl, "How else am I to procure a proper husband? I cannot even hum, but why should that matter?"

"If you could play or sing, I might be willing to put up with you," hissed the dragon, "but as it is, I think I would find you very irritating. Besides, what is the point of kidnapping a person? As a rule, dragons do not find men very tasty nor do we enjoy their company, unless they are wise or talented beyond the usual scope of mankind. Holding you for ransom would be pointless: we often have enough treasure or can procure it by a more efficient means. You have been reading too many fairy tales, child, some of the things they put in the stories are just that, stories!"

"Then why are you here?" said the girl peevishly.

Remembering his mission, he said, "I came in search of Tristan. I visited Astoria but the Lady sent me here. I can hardly tell one human from another, but I recognized the Lady Arora's music instantly, so I thought I would see if she knew where he was."

He looked a question at Arora, who said, "he and four others rode for Astoria several days ago, they should be there soon. I am afraid you have just missed him."

The dragon looked disappointed, "you people are so busy all the time! Why do you not stop and nap for a few years every now and then? All this rushing about makes me dizzy. Anyway, I said I would check in on the black dragons for him and I have some information that he might find useful. Do you know if he will be returning or must I go back the way I came?"

Arora said, "I do not know where his path will lead him next, but I am sure he would be eager to hear your news."

"You can come with me!" smiled the dragon, "And entertain me along the way with your songs."

"I would love to," beamed Arora at the thought of having her part in the adventure, "I am sure Bristol will be back soon to resume his duties here, I can be of far more use elsewhere!" The girl, who did not understand much of the exchange between the two, scowled evenly between them. Nargath wasted little time in fulfilling his offer, he simply withdrew his eye and gently inserted a forearm, whisking Arora safely onto his back, flitting off the next moment as careless as swallow on the wing.

The girl wistfully watched them fly off and muttered, "some people have all the luck."

"I did not realize your haste," laughed Arora, "thankfully there is nothing vital amongst the things I am leaving behind! How long will it take to reach Astoria?"

"It will be a two day flight," said the dragon, "you can sing for me once we make camp for the night." Nargath was notorious for his love of music, and Arora had once played for him, though he couldn't tell one man from another, he never forgot a good performance. They flew for the balance of the day, landing in a broad meadow for the night, which Nargath passed very pleasantly, listening to Arora sing and play, well rewarded for his wild goose chase. They were up with the sun and off on the final leg of their journey to Astoria, Arora wondering if she'd beat Tristan home!

Back in Arca, a groom was sleepily shoveling muck out of a stall, when he was rudely awakened by a horrendous crash: a horse, stalled at the far end, had somehow broken out of its stall and was loose in the stable. He quickly grabbed a halter and cautiously approached the animal, she reared threateningly and he jumped back. She snorted in amusement, thundered out of the stable, dashed through the open gates, and disappeared into the mid-morning traffic of the city. Someone was not going to be happy about this! Meanwhile, a rumor had spread that a dragon had tried to kidnap one of the King's daughters but had mistakenly grabbed the court bard instead. Much to the girl's irritation, the news of her near kidnapping did not gain her any sympathy about the court but only encouraged several of the young men to boast about rescuing the beautiful bard from the dragon's evil clutches, though boasting was as far as they ever got in their quest for glory.

After the remarkable meeting with the Lady, Tristan and Geff stood in the small audience chamber waiting their turn to speak with her. She dismissed Bristol immediately back to his duties in Arca and sent Turin with Trap to introduce him to life in Astoria. Once she had dismissed the others, she turned her attention to Tristan and Geff, smiling warmly at the boy, she said cordially, "welcome to Astoria! You are welcome to stay and attend classes if you wish, but I must send Tristan again into danger, you will not be able to continue your journeys with him. A servant awaits you at the door to show you to your room." The boy bowed graciously and left the room, the Lady watched the boy run off with amusement, before turning to Tristan and saying, "where do you find all of these lost little boys and why do you insist on bringing them home for me to take care of?" She laughed heartily at his sudden discomfiture, but joining in her mirth, Tristan relaxed, knowing she did not resent 'taking in' one more 'stray.' Growing serious, she said, "what have you to tell me of circumstances in the east?"

He told her of all he had seen and done on his recent tour of the Eastern Realms, after which, she replied, "this University seems a good idea, if only it actually taught something useful! Though news of a schism within the Order is troubling, it is not surprising, we are seeing fewer recruits from the Order as time goes by, and many of those that do come, stay on with us, resigning from the Order completely. It seems we will soon be back where we started, but then we must either merge or go our separate ways, we could not go on indefinitely as two separate, though intertwined, groups. I only hope they have gained something positive from our influence. That they are willing to subject their men to this University either means they are looking for a viable alternative for expanding the minds of their men and are unaware of the inanities of the University or they are again under the influence of some pernicious power, I fear it is the latter."

Tristan nodded his grim agreement before speaking, "you spoke of sending me out into danger again?" adding with a knowing smile, "Have you ever done anything but?"

Said she in arch reply, "you are the one who has chosen such a life, my friend, if ever you wish to retire to a less exciting role, say as a Teacher or maybe even a Philosopher, all you have to do is say so!"

Tristan grimaced in feigned horror, "anything but that my Lady."

She smiled, "then no more complaints about dangerous missions."

He grinned wryly, "I was not complaining, merely curious where you will send me next."

She sobered, "that know not, Nargath arrived again today carrying Arora with him. He came several days ago and I sent him east in search of you. He found Arora in Arca and she accompanied him back here. He has some news for you about the black dragons, I know no nothing more than that, but his news may tell you where you must go next."

"What of happenings in the east?" asked Tristan.

She replied grimly, "I will send a few of the Brethren to assist Pallin in his 'studies,' and we will see what we can make of this University. Bristol is returning to Arca to resume his post, and I have sent more of our agents east in hopes of counteracting this plot, though as of yet, I have no idea how that is to be done. Perhaps between Nargath's news and Trap's information, we can find an answer? But enough business, you must be anxious to see Nargath, and more so, your wife." He bowed formally, smiled a farewell, and left in search of the dragon and Arora.

It was not hard to find them, word of a dragon in the area could not be long a secret, as they sat in a grassy field just outside the city. Tristan ran to Arora, drawing her into a long hug. She did not realize how much she missed him, or how frightening his recent brush with death had been, until his strong arms held her once more. Satisfied with their greeting, he then made a formal bow to his old friend, asking after his journey and the reason therefor.

"Tristan, finally!" boomed the dragon happily, "I have been running about like a panicked sheep, hither and yon, trying to find you."

"I am sorry for the difficulty of your search," smiled Tristan at such a metaphor for such a creature, "but I thank you for your trouble. The Lady said you have news?"

"Yes," said the dragon, "after we last met, I cautiously sent messages to some of my acquaintances amongst the Black Dragons, one of them agreed to meet with me secretly, which was very odd. Black dragons are not known for their timidity, and most of them are very fond of evil and utterly selfish, but I do keep in contact with some of the more benign members of the race, as a social courtesy and to keep abreast of happenings within dragonkind. No creature that I am aware of would frighten a black dragon, except a bigger black dragon, but my informant was most definitely terrified. We met and he said that there was some terrible plot afoot amongst some of his acquaintances, not that black dragons are overly social with anyone, but still, they do communicate, however infrequently. He said that some evil more vile than anything he had ever imagined was alive and well amongst some of the darkest hearted of his race. Most of the black dragons dabble in evil, but he said there was at least one amongst them who had become evil incarnate. That is all he could tell me, save that this menace is exciting reflection amongst the other black dragons, that perhaps it is time they took back various parts of the world, instead of living as exiles in the Wildlands. I do not think they are planning anything significant within the next half century or so, dragons tend to take much longer to make decisions than men, though, with your short lifespans, if you took the time necessary to thoroughly deliberate upon a matter, you would accomplish nothing. No wonder you run about like leaves in a hurricane!"

Tristan looked at the dragon grimly, musing aloud, "I just left a meeting with the Lady, wherein a former member of the Brotherhood of the Serpent revealed that their master sometimes reveals himself to mortals in the form of a Black Dragon. Perhaps this is the 'evil incarnate' your friend spoke of? It is worrisome to think he is inciting thoughts of conquest amongst your viler kinsmen, can you warn us if any such attack appears imminent?"

"Of course," said the dragon, "though I am not happy to learn that the Evil One has chosen to so degrade my species! Perhaps I should circulate this information, though carefully, it may rein in some of the more eager warmongers among us."

"Thank you," said Tristan, "I know what you have risked to find this information and in assisting us." Nargath bowed in acknowledgement, his business complete, he happily stayed the night while the more talented musicians among the Brethren delighted him with their skills. In the morning, he set off for his lair in the Northern Wilds, as perplexed by what he had heard as his hearers were by his own news.

Geff, who had joined the previous night's festivities in the meadow, delightedly remarked to Tristan, "Raye really did have his draconian anatomy mixed up!"

Tristan laughed, "that was the least of his worries. I wonder how many of those poor boys starve or freeze during the course of their journey?"

Geff replied, "so far, none that I have heard of, but then publishing such an event would not be in the University's best interests I think."

Tristan queried, "so what are your plans from here on out?"

Geff shrugged, "the Lady has forbidden me to travel further with you, but I think I shall stay and partake in some real learning."

"That is a wise decision indeed," smiled Tristan, "I look forward to seeing what you have learned."

The boy asked eagerly, "and where are you off to?"

"The Lady has yet to tell me where I am going and what I am to do there," smiled Tristan wryly, "I think it will be back to the Eastern Realms, at least until we get to the bottom of this situation."

The man proved a prophet indeed, as Nargath's information had required no immediate action on his part, the Lady was sending him on a more useful quest, hopefully. The puzzle in the east still weighed heavily on her mind and she was sending as many of the Brethren thence as she could spare. As Arora had discovered nothing useful during her stay at court in Arca, the Lady was eager to have her continue in her more traditional role as a traveling musician who went from village to village teaching the Truth, legend, history, and many other things through song. Perhaps where men were tired of being talked at, they would eagerly listen to an evening of music? Tristan would accompany her as her 'guard.' It was a less exciting role than he was used to, but the company of his wife would well make up for the lack of adventure. It would also give him an excuse to travel from village to village and look for more suspicious characters while being overlooked by all and sundry. Turin would accompany them as far as their paths coincided, having his own duties elsewhere in the east.

Music floated on the gentle breeze of evening. The sun barely peeked above the western hills as the sky slowly faded from orange to blue and then to black. Trap sat alone some distance from the festivities, not yet courageous enough to face his new colleagues. He respected the three men he had traveled with and felt at ease around them, but he was still very shy around the majority of the Brethren and still shocked at the outcome of the day, but for once in his life everything felt right. He saw someone walking towards him and looked about for a place to hide or a reason to flee, but he sat alone in the middle of an empty field, he must wait and face his visitor. Thankfully, it turned out to be Tristan, said he, "a little overwhelming I think, especially for one so newly back from the dead."

Trap smiled weakly at Tristan's comment, "my former colleagues were in nowise so exuberant; I do not regret my decision, but I fear it will be some time before I am completely at ease with such a drastic shift in my life."

"You will get used to it," smiled Tristan knowingly, "do not fear your past or the future. No one but a few know of your previous life and we are a friendly lot."

"Thank you," said Trap, adding wryly, "and to think I thought to take you on as an apprentice! Does the Master have a sense of humor?"

"He certainly does," said Tristan brightly, "else how could life take such sudden and unexpected turns?" As they talked, Trap seemed to relax, his life had literally turned upside down overnight, but he had fallen amongst an honorable and friendly group of people who would greatly ease the transition. As they talked, a shadowy creature approached from the distant woods. They grew silent, watching its slow and ominous approach, until it stopped not far from wondering pair.

It was a unicorn, though the ubiquitous glow that usually surrounded the unveiled creatures was absent, if anything, this one seemed draped in darkness itself. She stood silently and stared at Trap. "She seems to know you," said Tristan.

"I am afraid she recognizes me as the man who slew her master," said Trap sadly.

"That would explain the darkness about her," said Tristan, "she must still mourn his loss."

"How intelligent are these creatures?" asked Trap anxiously.

"They are probably far wiser than men," said Tristan, "they are no dumb beasts, though they cannot speak with words, they are still very good at getting their message across."

"I feel as if she is claiming my life in exchange for the life of her slain master," said Trap in confusion.

"Then that is what she is here for," said Tristan quietly, "you do not so much hear as feel their intentions."

"She means to kill me?" asked Trap in surprise.

"I do not think so," mused Tristan, "or she would have done it already, besides she has no claim on your life if you have been pardoned by the Lady."

"Then what does she want?" asked Trap desperately.

"I think she is claiming your life in service to her," said Tristan, smiling slightly.

"What?" gasped Trap, "I do not understand."

"You have taken her master from her and she is claiming your life to fill that void," said Tristan.

"Me?" gasped Trap, "I killed the man dearest to her."

"Unicorns have a strange sense of duty and justice," said Tristan, "they do things for their own reasons, but once you have been chosen there is no point in resisting. They are faithful to the point of death, even if you do not want their services. I would accept her offer or she will drive you mad with her persistence."

"What should I do?" asked Trap quietly.

"Mount up," said Tristan with a broad smile.

Cautiously Trap approached the creature, she gently sniffed him as he came within reach of her nose and whickered a greeting. The darkness dissipated as Trap approached and the glow, though faint, returned. She seemed to be waiting patiently for his next move. Very carefully, Trap climbed onto her back and she was off like an arrow from the string. Tristan laughed in delight, they would do well together! He walked back to find Arora, that she might help him enjoy the music, expert that she was.

The next morning, Geff and Trap were there to bid Tristan, Turin, and Arora farewell. Trap was to remain in Astoria, both to advise the Lady on matters pertaining to the Brotherhood and also to sharpen some of his skills and to learn more about the Brethren and the Truth. He was sorry to see his new friends go, but he no longer feared his new colleagues and actually relished the idea of becoming a student again. Geff was unhappy at being left behind, but he had so much to learn that he would not find their absence difficult. Nargath had left earlier, but had also bid them a warm farewell and asked them to visit when next they were in the north, especially Arora. They set out on their journey with joy, but the unknown course of their duties over the next few months troubled their thoughts. Turin eventually parted from them, en route to Arca while they continued on to Syre, planning to wend their way through the various villages between the western border and the sea.

Arora's assignment was to counteract some of the misinformation and disinterestedness imparted by the students throughout rural Syre; Tristan's job was to protect his wife and keep an eye out for any more members of the Brotherhood, while both were to look for anything they could find that might help bring the whole situation to a close. The problem with fighting a vague enemy was that you must find the root of the problem and attack it, but the roots of this particular problem were well hidden, shrouded in shadow and enigma. The University was a problem, but not THE problem. They had to figure out a way to disrupt the enemy's experiment in confusion in the east, that it not spread throughout the rest of the world. Shutting down the University was not only unethical, but they had no legal grounds to do so, besides, if one source of misinformation was quashed, several others would spring up to replace it, and in places they might not be aware of.

### Chapter 10

Three days after parting with Turin, they came upon a small inn that evening, the innkeeper was more than happy to have a musician, of even middling talent, frequent his establishment. If she was remotely good, word would quickly spread bringing people from far and wide, much enriching himself if she stayed for any length of time. She was noncommittal when asked about staying for longer than a night, but he and his patrons were not disappointed in her abilities. Arora sang many songs of forgotten lore and tragic battles, of the Master and His dealings with men, of love and war and death. She held her audience captive, as if some spell transfixed them, only taking a break to eat a light supper, allowing her audience to return to their previous pursuits in disappointment.

A scruffy and poorly fed student stood up as Arora sat down, saying, "I thank the lady for her fine music, but now let us commence with something truly wonderful! I wish to expound upon my certain knowledge that the Brethren are out to conquer the world. Their belief that their ideas are the only ones that matter are outrageous and should not be tolerated in any part of the civilized world..." The boy continued on for some time without anyone paying him much heed. As he paused for breath after a particularly provocative statement, Arora stood up to play again. The audience came suddenly to life and the boy thought his points had finally hit home, but his look soured as he realized the true source of their joy; the innkeeper quickly shuffled him off to the kitchens and his waiting chores.

"I do not know how well I can follow such an interesting speech, but I shall try," smiled Arora lightly, as she began to play for what would be a very long night, before she packed away her instrument and retreated to their room.

The next morning as they were preparing to leave, the innkeeper met them in the stable and begged them to stay another night. "We must be going," said Arora gently, "though perhaps I may stop here again in the future." He looked at her so pleadingly that she almost gave in, but Tristan gently shook his head. "We look forward to visiting again," said Arora apologetically, "but we really must be going." The man gave them a disappointed smile but wished them well on their journey.

After he had gone, Tristan finished adjusting a strap on his saddlebags but suddenly dropped the strap and reached for his sword. Again, he heard the sound of rustling coming from the hayloft above. Soon the source of the ruckus revealed itself and Tristan released his grip on his weapon with a rueful grin, for it was the boy from the previous night. He clambered down the ladder and stood in the aisle, blocking their way. "Why are you not staying another night?" demanded the boy, "The innkeeper was desperate for your services, he would gladly have provided you with room, board, and a little pocket money! Some of us are desperate for such consideration."

Arora smiled sadly at the boy, "we have other places we must visit and cannot stay long at any one place. Neither are my services are for sale, rather they are for the benefit of all who care to listen, not to be sold to the highest bidder."

"I knew you were mad," scoffed the boy, "and this just proves it! What is the point of having a talent if you do not exploit it? I cannot believe the audience was so enraptured by your myths and children's fables! What use are forgotten histories and love ballads to the modern mind? It is all fabricated nonsense, emotional rubbish, and it has no practical use in the modern world. What people need is information and lots of it! With information comes understanding, with understanding comes tolerance, and with tolerance comes peace and prosperity! Your songs about love and war and honor are sentimental and outdated, and as long as the common people cling to such nonsense, there will be no true progress or intellectual awakening among the masses."

"What use to the 'common people' is your information if they cannot apply it to their daily lives?" asked Arora, "If you had some modern technique for growing potatoes, perhaps anyone who raises potatoes would actually benefit from your information, but why would a merchant, a blacksmith, or a farmer want to hear a plethora of obscure, and often erroneous, information on things that have nothing to do with their lives or their livelihoods, the past or the future of man?"

The boy looked offended, but continued, "everyone should be open to new information, even if it does not matter to them immediately, it may matter one day. Besides, how can they understand the rest of the world if they do not learn new things? Understanding and tolerance are the basis for peace and prosperity." He glanced in obvious disgust at Tristan's sword.

"Understanding and tolerance?" asked Arora archly, "Do you live up to your own ideal, you who are so well educated?"

"Of course," said the boy proudly, "I am open to and accepting of new things, people, and ideas."

"Your little tirade against the Brethren last night did not sound very tolerant," retorted Arora.

"They are a danger to the freedom of thought and rational thinking; the world must be warned," protested the boy.

"And how did you come to this conclusion?" asked Arora, "Have you ever met any of the Brethren?"

"Not personally," said the boy a bit awkwardly, "nor do I wish to. They are mindless fiends that only wish to remove all of the joy and intelligence from everyone they meet; they want everyone to be as abstemious as themselves. I have studied under some of the greatest minds in the known world and am convinced of the veracity of their ideas."

"So you have no first hand experience?" asked Arora quietly.

The boy looked abashedly at his feet, refusing to meet her eyes, and as if beginning to realize just how weak his arguments sounded, saying reluctantly, "no, I do not."

"How can you claim to be tolerant of others if there is even one group with whom you disagree?" asked Arora, "Should you not think all groups have a right to behave as they wish?"

"I suppose," said the boy, "but it is not right for such things to go on."

"You are right in saying that some things should not occur," said Arora, "some things should not be tolerated. It is one thing to understand someone, but quite another to condone evil when you encounter it. Therefore, you must either tolerate everything or quit speaking about the virtues of tolerance. Instead, encourage understanding and fight evil and injustice wherever you find it. And I would not go about preaching the virtues or evils of any particular person, group, or country unless you have personal experience."

"What you say makes sense," said the boy reluctantly, "but it all seems so contrary to what we learn at the University. They say if we can all just understand each other then there will be no more misunderstandings and no more violence."

Arora smiled in commiseration, "as long as there are those willing to take advantage of others, there will always be strife. Some violence is the result of misunderstanding, true, but much more of it comes as a result of someone violating the rights of another for their own gain. And sometimes, violence is needed to ensure peace. My guard carries a sword, but he only uses it to defend me, he does not wield it against those who do not threaten my safety. It also discourages those who might see a woman traveling alone in the wilds as an easy target."

The boy looked truly troubled and confused, "who am I to believe?"

"Believe those you trust, those whose information you know is actually wisdom and not empty words," said Arora, "learn from your own experience and the experience of others. That is why I sing of histories, battles, and lore: we can learn from the past so we do not make the same mistakes in the future. If you look for it, you will find wisdom. Wisdom comes with experience and patience, not with the memorization of empty facts. People appreciate wisdom but resent false knowledge; speak wisely and your message will not be spurned."

"You really care about my future?" said the boy, agape.

"Yes," said Arora, smiling brightly, "and I hope it is filled with wise choices on your part."

"Why do you care about a perfect stranger?" asked the boy in confusion, "Especially when you are so talented and could easily ignore or embarrass me."

"I care about everyone," said Arora simply.

"Can I come with you?" asked the boy eagerly, "I think there is much you could teach me. You would not have to pay to feed or shelter me, I am used to earning my way."

Arora glanced at Tristan, but he was as stunned as she. "Can you ride?" asked Arora wanly.

"A little," said the boy enthusiastically.

Arora said, "as it happens, we have a spare horse and you are welcome to borrow him for as long as you accompany us. But you must promise to do as you are told by either myself or my guard, you may leave us at any time but we also reserve the right to send you away. Do you understand?"

The boy nodded and said, "I promise."

Arora had set out from Astoria on a normal horse, as her unicorn had not yet had a chance to catch up with her. The mare had met them along the trail to Syre, thus they now had a spare mount for the boy. "We had best be going then," said Arora practically, "if we are to make the next village by dark." They mounted up and were quickly on their way.

"Why are we bringing the boy along?" asked Tristan quietly as they rode side by side, adding with a wry smile, "Besides, I thought picking up lost young men was my job."

She smiled blandly at him and said, "I have no idea why he is coming with us, but I know he must."

"I agree," smiled Tristan, "but I had hoped you had some idea as to why."

"At the least," laughed she, "we will see that he gets a couple good meals and a little real wisdom."

They traveled all day with only a brief stop for lunch. As they chewed at the tough dried meat and stale bread, the boy finally worked up his courage to talk to Tristan, "have you really used your sword against another person?"

"Many times," said Tristan quietly.

"Is it fun and exciting?" asked the eager boy.

"It is a frightening experience," replied Tristan grimly, "you may have to take a life and your own is at risk. It is such a muddle of excitement and terror that it cannot be explained but must be experienced. I would rather have become proficient in some other art, but that is not my fate. I have no talent with music or words; I am a simple warrior and must use what skills I have for the benefit of others. I do not relish the thought of taking another's life, but sometimes it must be done."

"You do not seem so cold-blooded as they tell us at the University," said the boy with a pensive frown, "they assume anyone who wields a sword must be bereft of all thought and feeling."

"There are many who wield swords," smiled Tristan dryly, "and the vast majority of them still have souls. Do you have plans once you become a Scholar?"

The boy gaped at Tristan, surprised at his apparent familiarity with the University, "I do not know, I hope to become an advisor to some king or wealthy lord, perhaps. How do you know so much about the University?"

"I was there briefly," replied Tristan, "how long have you been on your journey?"

"I have been out here for a couple months already," said the boy.

"And what do you think of the life of a traveling scholar?" asked Tristan.

"It would be much better," mused the boy, "if one was assured of having at least one meal a day and some shelter from the elements, but otherwise I have enjoyed the freedom and variety of the road."

"Do you meet many interesting people in your travels?" asked Tristan.

"Most of the people I meet are local farmers or tradesmen, but I have often encountered fellow students," said the boy, "occasionally there are men of a more sinister mien, who like to watch the traveling students very closely, but I find it rather unnerving. Twice I have met seemingly learned men who engaged me in friendly debate. There have also been members of the Order of the Unicorn upon the road, busy with duties of their own; they are a fascinating group, with many attending the University, for they are skilled in the arts of war, yet wish to study under men of peace! Do you know much of them?"

Tristan smiled wryly, "I have encountered them frequently in my travels and have even ridden with them at times, I certainly agree that they are an 'interesting' group of individuals."

They soon set off, arriving as planned at a thriving village along Syre's main East-West road as the sun westered over the dusky hills. The innkeeper gladly accepted Arora's offer to entertain his patrons for the evening, though he was less happy to oblige the boy's request for a meal in exchange for help in the kitchens. Tristan spoke up and said that he would pay for the boy's meal, which mollified the innkeeper, who then went back to his duties.

The boy took a seat in the back next to Tristan, saying, "I will not take your charity. I said I would work for my meals and I am serious about that."

Tristan nodded, "I know you are and you will do as you have said in the future, but tonight I want to know that you have at least one good meal in you rather than whatever scraps the kitchen has left over."

This silenced the boy and he heartily dug into the heaping bowl of stew and warm, crusty bread that one of the serving girls brought them. Tristan smiled as the boy ate ravenously, remembering his own desperate hunger so many years ago, he hoped this boy's current plight was only temporary and did not lead him into trouble. Arora sang most of the evening, only stopping occasionally for a brief rest. The boy, no longer feeling that he must compete with her, actually started to listen to her music and actually found he enjoyed it. The evening passed swiftly and soon it was time for bed. After the successful evening of music, the innkeeper was even willing to allow the boy to sleep in an empty room instead of the hayloft.

For ten days they journeyed thus, ever deeper into Syre, moving from village to village. Nothing very exciting interrupted their wanderings, but the boy learned much from his traveling companions, perhaps more than he had learned during his years at the University. As Arora performed each night, her popularity and renown grew. The night she planned to visit a certain inn, it was always packed with eager listeners, as people traveled great distances just to hear her sing. The boy watched in fascination each night as people fell under her spell, but there was no magic, only beautiful music. One night as they sat in the back of a very crowded common room, a man sat down beside Tristan, who recognized him immediately as one of the Brethren, though they had never met before.

"It is a rainy evening," said Tristan noncommittally, glancing about to see if anyone was paying them any particular heed, but all were enspelled by Arora and her music.

"Not weather I would like to be out in," replied the man.

"What brings you to this part of the world?" asked Tristan blandly.

"I am on an errand for a certain Lady," said the man mysteriously.

"Are not we all?" laughed Tristan, "What news have you of these Eastern Realms?"

"Nothing much to report," shrugged the man, "there are a few sinister characters about but many more of these would-be scholars; I see you have acquired one."

"Our paths coincide temporarily," said Tristan dryly, "but I fear it is becoming quite a habit. Though it might be to their benefit if the fad caught on!"

"I see the lady has found herself quite a following," continued the man, "she is much more effective at communicating to these poor people, deluged by all this useless information as they are, than a simple speaker like myself; I appreciate her efforts. The Truth needs to be heard, most especially under such an assault on common sense, but the people are tired of talk and are thirsty for wisdom, thankfully, she can deliver it in a song. But I must be going, as you have things under control here, I will be more useful elsewhere. Goodnight!" Tristan bid him goodnight as well.

The boy was rather offended by the man's references to his fellow students, but the rest of the conversation meant little to him. He glanced idly around the crowded room and his eyes found a surprisingly familiar face. He slipped out of his seat, worming his way through the enraptured throng to an old man sitting in a far corner. "Professor Grumpus!" he cried, "What are you doing here?"

"What?" asked the man, "Oh, hello uh...Kurd?"

"It is Kard, sir," said the boy patiently.

"Yes, yes," said the man, "I am here to observe this mysterious songstress, her renown has traveled as far as the University and I was dispatched to observe her. There is much talk of inviting her to perform at the University, if she is half as good as we have heard. I think I feel comfortable making the invitation? Some of her themes are questionable, but she is an artist after all, aside from her whimsical music choices, she is quite impressive. But I do not know if she would take my invitation seriously?"

"I can introduce you," said the boy.

"Really?" asked the amazed old man, "That would be splendid. Let her finish her repertoire for the night and introduce us afterwards." The boy nodded his agreement and slipped back to his place beside Tristan, as Arora sang for several more hours.

Just before she retreated to her room, Kard said, "there is someone I would like you to meet." As if on cue, the old man pottered over to their table, as the boy introduced him, "this is the Most Distinguished Professor Grumpus, he has traveled all the way from the University and wishes to ask you a question!"

The man bowed slightly, "we, the faculty of the University, wish to extend an invitation to you to perform for the faculty and students of the University, and any others who wish to attend, at your earliest convenience, of course."

"I would be honored to play for such a distinguished group," said Arora in surprise, "at our current rate of travel we will be there within a week."

"Then I look forward to seeing you then," said the man, bowing in farewell. Arora did not know whether to be eager or anxious, at her last command performance someone had tried to kill her! She smiled grimly, at least it meant she must be having an impact.

Kard was impatient to get back to the University with his distinguished traveling companions, but Arora would not change her plans or hasten their pace, she meant to visit as many villages as she could between their current position and Dara. Tristan was eager to see Pallin again and wondered how the poor boy was handling his apparent abandonment to illogicality run amuck; Tristan certainly did not envy the boy his assignment, but it couldn't be worse than his own time with the Order!

Finally they arrived in Dara, Tristan was happy not to have knowingly encountered any members of the Brotherhood during their travels, but he did not doubt that there might be a few lurking around the campus. Kard led them to the Head of Visiting Experts, who would be in charge of Arora's performance. He was overjoyed to meet her and expressed a great interest in hearing her play, asking if tomorrow evening might do for a performance, to which she readily agreed. He said he would make the arrangements and asked her to make herself at home in Dara and at the University. After clearing things up with the Head, they went in search of Pallin, whom they found washing dishes after the noon meal, he was almost frantic with joy at seeing them. They retreated to his small room, his roommates were all at lecture, and asked Kard to leave them for a time, to which he only reluctantly agreed, but he was eager to find some of his former companions, to acquaint them with the recent happenings in his life.

"It has been hard these past months," said Pallin, "there is not a sane voice to be heard! I have been hearing so much nonsense that I fear soon I will start believing it!"

"Have you seen or heard anything of interest?" asked Tristan.

"If there are shadowy men about," said Pallin, "they are kept well away from the students, I have nothing to report. I have noticed a few of the Brethren amongst the student body, though we have had little chance to talk; I assume the Lady has taken an interest in the University?"

Tristan nodded, "she is increasing our numbers in the area and hoping someone will figure out something that will soon put an end to this siege of unreason."

"I have heard much of a traveling bard who will soon grace us with her skills," broached Pallin with a proud smile.

Arora blushed, "I have been asked to perform tomorrow night for the University."

"That is quite an honor, as they pride themselves on offering only presentations from the best experts in the world," said Pallin, "though some of these experts would not qualify as such, in my estimation at least." They happily spoke together until the demands of the evening meal interrupted their reunion.

Arora's concert was slated for the following evening, Tristan hoped to enlist some help with security at the evening meal. Pallin had seen or spoken with at least three other members of the Brethren amongst the student population and both hoped to discover a few more. During the course of the meal, they circulated around the dining hall, quietly asking their colleagues to meet outside on the lawn during the evening debate, when a small gathering of students talking quietly would not elicit comment. They rounded up four others to help keep Arora safe during her University début; three were previously known to Pallin, the fourth was the man Tristan had encountered at an inn as he and Arora traveled through Syre. The plan was simple: they would scatter themselves throughout the audience and keep their eyes open for trouble.

The evening of Arora's performance found everyone, except Tristan, there early to claim a seat that allowed a quick exit and a good view of their assigned areas. Tristan followed Arora at a distance, watching keenly for any suspicious activity. Arora took her place before the gathered audience in the open area between the buildings, the entirety of the students and faculty had gathered for the event. It was a large audience and a huge area to watch, but Tristan hoped they had enough help. The concert began, Arora did a superb job, even though most of her material was considered mythical, outdated, or useless by those gathered to hear her, they were enchanted by her musical skills and the amazing stories that unfolded as the night progressed. Halfway through, she paused for a rest, allowing the transfixed audience to finally notice their tired, stiff muscles from sitting in one position for so long, they too began to stir. During the chaos of the intermission, Tristan glanced around at his fellow Brethren, all were keeping a close eye on things, except for the unnamed man they had met during their travels. He stared implacably at Arora and seemed to be arguing with himself, suddenly he seemed to come to some decision and drew forth a dagger. Tristan watched in horror, unable to move through the milling crowd, as the knife left the man's hand and went sailing through the air towards Arora.

As the dagger left his hand, the man experienced a horrendous internal pain, crumpling to the ground in a wretched heap. The knife flew harmlessly past Arora, lodging itself in the turf behind her, the aim thrown off by the sudden collapse of the attempted assassin. Arora scanned the audience frantically for Tristan, he briefly caught her eyes and gave her a reassuring smile as he rushed to the fallen attacker. The other four Brethren gradually moved in closer to Arora, but still remained within the audience, but most of the crowd noticed nothing while Arora continued the concert with few the wiser. The fallen man was hunched over, as if in pain, but was gradually making his way towards the edge of the crowd. He broke free of the crowd and took off in a stumbling run while Tristan was still bogged down by the milling audience. Finally, he broke through the wall of people, but could no longer see the villain, so pursued in the direction the man had fled, into the woods behind the buildings occupied by the University. Tristan heard sounds of a scuffle and a muffled scream, and a most peculiar sight awaited him when he entered the moonlit clearing.

Sobbing miserably, the would-be assassin hung pathetically from the mouth of a horse, which held the man's shirt collar tightly in his teeth, as if he were a kitten in its mother's mouth, if the situation was not so terrible, it would have been laughable. The changes wrought in the man himself were astonishing, where once he had looked to be in his mid-twenties, he now appeared to be a man in his fading years, his eyes constantly moving, as if in search of something he had lost or in fear of some hidden danger.

"Why?" asked Tristan, as he approached the man, "What could tempt you to break Oath and take an innocent life? At least if you wish to be free of your Oath, have the decency to do it privately and not involve others in harm!"

The man sobbed pathetically, sputtering, "he lied to me!"

"Who?" asked Tristan.

"The...the...dark man who came and spoke with me," wept the man, "he said I would suffer no ill effects for violating my...my Oath."

"What did he promise you in return?" persisted Tristan.

"He said," sniffed the captive pathetically, "that his dark masters would protect me and there would be ample reward."

"Can you find this man?" asked Tristan.

"We are meeting tonight at the Broken Horn," said the man.

"You will keep your appointment," said Tristan quietly.

"He might kill me!" protested the man.

"You are as good as dead anyway," said Tristan grimly, "perhaps some good may yet come of this debacle."

It was nearly time for the meeting with the sinister stranger at the specified inn, but first Tristan had to talk the man's unicorn into releasing him, "I know he betrayed you, he has betrayed us all! It is up to the Lady to deal with him, not you or I. I need him for a few hours, after that you may escort him back to Astoria."

The creature finally dropped his captive, but gave both men a dark look before vanishing into the forest. Tristan very nearly had to carry the wretched man out of the woods, and momentarily considered pursuing the fled unicorn! As they stumbled along, he slowly regained some strength and semblance of mind and was able to continue of his own volition. As they neared the inn, Tristan said, "go to your meeting and do not make the man suspicious that you have been captured. I will be nearby and will deal with him when the time is right." The man nodded mechanically and wandered listlessly towards the inn, it was a seedy place with more dust than light, wherein the man chose a table near the back and waited. Tristan found a window open on the second floor and climbed inside. There were gaping holes in the floor of the second story, making it easy for Tristan to sit above the man's table and hear anything that might be said.

Shortly, a vile feeling, cloaked figure entered the inn and took a seat at the table opposite the fallen Brother, hissed he, "you failed!"

"You lied," moaned the man.

"Perhaps if you had succeeded, things might have been different?" scoffed the stranger.

"No," said the man, "the result would have been the same."

"Finally, some wisdom!" laughed the villain, "But perhaps too late, for you are no longer of use to me or my masters, pathetic and broken as you are, good riddance!" The dark man reached across the table and the other man fell into a deep sleep, just shy of true death. The fiend laughed softly to himself and disappeared out the back of the inn. Tristan made to follow, but was set upon by two very large men, who loomed out of an empty room, preventing him from following the vile stranger. They disarmed him, bound his hands, and led him away. In desperation, his mind sought for Taragon, who was thankfully nearby, and bade him follow the evil man.

"You are coming with us," laughed one of the two, "you have been a very naughty boy tonight." He was helpless to do anything but allow the two immense men to escort him wherever they wished.

The concert was superb and hardly anyone noticed the attempt on Arora's life. Afterwards, one of the department heads led Arora off to a quiet room for a bit of talk, said he, "the faculty have elected me to speak on their behalf, they are very impressed with your musical abilities and historical and mythical knowledge. If it is agreeable to you, we wish to offer you a professorship at the University. You would be the new head of the Department of Music, Lore, and Myth!" Arora was speechless but somehow managed to convey her approval. "There are a few stipulations," said the man hesitantly, but also strangely eager, "first, as a woman, you would be a distraction to our all-male campus. So, in order to fill this position, you must find yourself a husband; here is a list of interested faculty." He gave her six sheets of paper filled with names, front and back, she smiled wryly, never knowing she was so attractive! She raised her eyebrows when she noticed Professor Grumpus's name at the top of one list. "Also," continued the man, "we have apprehended a suspect in the little incident with the knife. He was seen running from the performance shortly after the attack and was also seen following you earlier this evening. He was apprehended in a shady part of town and was heavily armed. One of our students, Raye, has also informed us that he may be involved in the disappearance of another student called Geff. He is also guilty of impersonating a student without officially registering with the University." Arora did not know whether to laugh or cry, for she had a very good idea who they had apprehended! She then described the suspect perfectly. "So you know this man?" asked the professor eagerly.

"Know him?" said Arora with a laugh, "He is my husband!" She smiled at the man's shock, "he fled the performance in pursuit of the true attacker; Geff was safe when we parted, that ugly scar along his side was actually taken in defense of Geff's life. He is not a threat to anyone unless they threaten others. If he is guilty of impersonating a student, feel free to register him as one. You may return his weapons and release him from custody, nor will I be needing your list of potential suitors; you may say that I am already married, but my husband wishes to remain anonymous." The man was thoroughly shocked but did as she said, as she retired to her quarters after a very strange but productive evening!

She yearned to see Tristan again but knew he was busy with her assailant, leaving her only wish to find her bed and sleep away what little was left of the night. As she opened the door, a chill wind greeted her, though she did not remember leaving the window open.

A cloud of evil rolled out of the darkness as a cold voice spoke, "you will pack your things and leave now. If you do not, you will not live to regret it. Your presence is not wanted here and I will do what I must to make sure you do not meddle in affairs beyond your ken."

"Get out of my room and bother me no more," said she in a calm, firm voice.

"Why do you not tremble in fear?" asked the perplexed voice, "All shudder at my presence!"

"I fear no evil that stems from such a pathetic source," said Arora, "away with you or face my blade." As she spoke, she drew forth the sword carefully hidden among the folds of her gown.

"You have been warned," snarled the voice, as he hurled himself out of the shadows and flung himself at Arora. Tristan may be better than she with a blade, but she was no novice, she proved an even match for the stranger and dealt him a parting slash upon his shoulder. "You have not seen the last of me," growled the man, as he leapt out the window. The sound of fleeing hooves came through the open window as Tristan came bolting into the room.

"What happened?" demanded he, though not unkindly.

"I found a strange man lurking in my room and threatening me with violence if I did not leave at once," said Arora, unable to hide her wry smile at such a meeting.

"I must be after him, I am afraid," said Tristan plaintively, "I was held up by some University henchmen and would have lost his trail entirely, save for Taragon, who tracked him to this building. I have a feeling he will lead me to something we have been long in search of. I love you!" He embraced her briefly and followed the man out the window and into the night. Taragon was waiting and the pair quickly vanished after their quarry. She stared after them for some time, bolted the window, and sought her bed, though sleep was long in coming.

### Chapter 11

For two days they followed the stranger into the uttermost east of the world. At last, on the rocky shores of the Eastern Sea, they watched him disappear into a menacing old castle perched high upon a sea cliff. Tristan used the utter darkness as cover to explore the outer walls of the castle, for happily the moon had not yet risen; he could see men upon the battlements above and hoped none glimpsed him as he crept along the wall, seeking some means of entrance. The front gate was undoubtedly barred against intruders, and he highly doubted that knocking politely would avail him. Suddenly he heard voices coming up behind him, he sought in vain for somewhere to conceal himself and reached for his sword, knowing it was too late. He saw one of the men raise a frightful looking club as he grasped his sword hilt, but as the blade slid free of its sheath, his vision blurred and he stumbled forward, suddenly dizzily. His fingers grew numb and unresponsive; the blade fell uselessly to the ground. Tristan fell forward just as the club landed squarely on the back of his head, darkness seized him and he knew no more.

"Good hit Brom," snapped the man without the club.

"Thank you Pratt," grinned Brom stupidly, "I try."

"Who do you think he is?" asked Pratt.

"Dunno," said Brom, "but he won't be telling us neither."

"What do you mean?" growled Pratt.

"I think I broke his neck," said Brom in distress, "he's not breathing!"

Pratt rushed to the side of the sprawled figure, vainly seeking for a pulse, "the general is not going to like this! This guy is lucky though, he wouldn't've liked his welcome inside. The general will have questions and we don't have any answers. Come on, maybe he has something on him that will give us some idea where he came from or who he was." Together they lifted Tristan's prone form and dragged it into the castle.

They searched his pockets and belt pouch but found nothing but a few coins, some well-worn but nondescript clothes, and a spare bowstring. Pratt whistled as he looked at Tristan's torso, "whoever he was, he sure has been through something! Look at all them scars." A variety of scars crisscrossed his chest and arms, acquired in over a century of service to the Brethren.

Just then the door swung open and an important looking man stalked in, scowling. "What is so important that it must interrupt my meeting?" growled the general.

"We found this bloke sneaking around outside and thought you should know," said Pratt meekly.

"Has he told you anything useful?" demanded the general.

"He isn't exactly speaking," said Pratt, "or breathing for that matter. He took a nasty blow to the head."

The general snarled in irritation, "has your search revealed anything useful?" They shook their heads. "Then why are you bothering me and wasting time?" hissed the general, "He might have friends out there! I want every available man to comb the area and capture his colleagues, alive."

"What about him?" asked Brom at a very bad time.

"I do not care what you do with the corpse so long as it does not bother me," shouted the general, as he stormed out of the dungeons.

Brom looked dimly at Pratt, who said, "dump the body in the refuse cart, I'll dispose of it after we search the area. We had better get moving and wake the guard!" Every available man was roused from his bed or taken off the walls and put to work combing the darkness for any reinforcements, leaving the general alone in the courtyard with three cloaked men.

Tristan woke slowly, as if from a long sleep. He sat on the ground, well padded with spongy moss, around him the boles of ancient pines lifted their hoary heads high into the sunshine, though around him only scattered patches of light brightened the forest floor. It was pleasantly warm, though there was a hint of autumn coolness in the late morning air; somewhere behind him a chattering brook played merrily over its stony bed. He turned his head and saw what had awakened him: a unicorn stood gazing at him longingly. He recognized her immediately as Aria, the mare that had traded her life for his. If she was here, then...

The thought that he might be dead quickly vanished from his mind as the mare winked at him, tossed her head, and then fled into the forest, for an ominous Presence approached: he had never felt such power before, as if the sun itself had come out of the heavens to walk amongst men. He had once seen a reflection of the great figure that towered over him, but to be in His presence was quite another matter entirely. He knelt, his head bowed, trembling in awe and fear.

The Master spoke, "walk with me, child." Somehow he found the strength and courage to stand and walked quietly beside the very Master of All. They were silent as they trod the paths of the ancient grove, but at length, the Master spoke, "you may have guessed where you are." Tristan nodded, though He needed no reply. Continued He, "you are but a sojourner here. One day you will come hither and never again tread mortal soil, but for now you are just a visitor." Tristan looked at Him in confusion. Said He, with the hint of a smile, "had you been captured alive, you would have wished very soon for the alternative and many carefully laid plans would have come to naught. I have called you here to further My plans. A corpse may go places that a living man may not, for people do not fear to be overheard by the dead, for they are very good at keeping secrets. You will waken with a headache, but little worse for wear. Farewell, My son." Tristan looked upon the Master one last time and again lapsed into darkness.

He woke with a start, darkness surrounded him and pain erupted in his head, aching muscles complained bitterly from lying on a hard surface for too long. He felt cautiously around him in the darkness, feeling wood beneath him and a tarp above him; the small, confined space smelled strongly of rotten produce and old horse dung. He guessed he must be in some sort of wagon used to haul garbage. He felt about his person, discovering his weapons and all his possessions were still in place, save his purse was empty. He carefully raised the tarp enough to look out into the night. Four figures stood nearby: one facing the other three.

The one said, "excuse the delay, but we had a minor security breach but it has been rectified. Please report what you have observed in your assigned sectors."

The man on the right said, "the students are having the desired effect! Sometimes there are two or three together, each more befuddled than the last; the locals will listen to nothing anyone has to say. The Brethren are out in force, but they cannot get a word in edgewise." He laughed with mirth and continued, "I have reports of one or two singers going about and having an impact locally, but there are too few of them and too many of our students for them to make any headway."

"Good," said the lone figure, "what news from Arca?"

The man continued, "the last my agents heard or saw of the traitor, he was headed for Astoria under guard; it is assumed he died there."

"Make no assumptions," snarled the one, "our master wants him dead! No one is allowed to violate their oath to the Brotherhood and lives to tell about it. Find him and destroy him." Tristan thought they must be speaking of Trap, as the solitary man turned to the man in the middle, "what news from the Order?"

The man said, "discord grows daily between those who have gone to Astoria and those who have not. Many of the former have already resigned their commissions and very few now venture forth for that cursed city. We hope very soon to force the resignation of all who have taken that vile Oath and then to reshape the Order into something far more useful."

"What of the usurper Karly?" asked the one.

"We hope very soon to have him expelled from the High Council, thus allowing you to return to your former post," said the man.

"Very good," smiled the one, "continue as planned." The man bowed in acquiescence, as the lone man turned to the one who had not yet spoken, "and what of the University?"

The man answered, "I have had the privilege of watching one of the Brethren violate his Oath, though he failed at his assigned task, it was a satisfying experience. The University has acquired a songstress and put her on staff as a professor; I am sure she is one of those blasted Brethren, as she actually teaches something useful, I plan to do away with her as soon as may be. Otherwise things progress smoothly."

"Very interesting," mused the one, "proceed as you think necessary, but do not let anyone know what happens to the songstress. It would be a pity to make her a martyr! And make sure those fools at the University do not hire anyone who actually has any useful knowledge." The final man bowed low in acquiescence. "You have made your reports and you have your orders," said the one, "keep me posted." All three bowed, mounted their horses, and rode off into the night.

Shortly, Pratt returned from his fruitless search. "Well?" demanded the general.

"We found nothing sir," said Pratt anxiously, "he seems to have come alone."

The general swallowed his anger and said, "the next time a prisoner dies on your watch, you will wish for the same fate!"

"Yes sir," gulped Pratt.

The general stormed off into the keep, Pratt dashed off to fetch the carthorse, glancing quickly into the back of the wagon after hitching up the beast. Tristan lay as still as he could and held his breath, apparently convincing the man that he was still dead, because Pratt climbed into the wagon seat and drove out of the courtyard. The sun was on the rise by the time the wagon stopped and Pratt pulled back the tarp, crawling into the back of the wagon and pushing Tristan's inert form off the back. Tristan did his best not to groan or flinch as he hit the ground, as the man quickly replaced the tarp and turned the wagon back towards the castle. Tristan lay still, breathing slowly and shallowly for half an hour, but the man did not return. He picked himself up off the ground and began walking deeper into the woods, where the anxious Taragon found him, and after much fussing, he was finally convinced Tristan was well; the man mounted and rode as fast as he could for Astoria.

It was a long way, but a unicorn in a hurry can make excellent time. They finally reached the gates of the castle, Tristan very nearly fell out of his saddle in exhaustion, covered in dust and smelling vaguely of the refuse wagon, he demanded to see the Lady immediately. A rather embarrassed servant bowed him into her presence, wondering how such an apparent vagabond could be allowed into the Lady's presence in such a condition and upon demand, but it was not his place to question the Lady's will, he bowed himself out, leaving Tristan to recount his adventures.

"That is quite a story," said she in amazement, "and we must act quickly! I will send as many of our musicians as can be spared into the east, each should have an armed escort as well. Perhaps we can influence with music where speech fails altogether. I will also quietly alert High Councilor Karly of these tidings and put all of our people within the Order on alert, I fear we have not seen the last of our difficulties with the Order. You must return to the University and see that Arora is protected, perhaps we can have a greater influence there and actually teach these eager young minds something worth learning! I will send a few more Teachers thither and see what they can do on that head. These tidings of the attempt on Arora's life sadden me greatly, but we will deal with the perpetrator when he comes. I will also see what we can discover of this strange castle and its vile inhabitants. My dear boy, I really wish you would quit trying so hard to get yourself killed, the suspense is not good for anyone, most especially you!" She smiled at him fondly and he bowed himself out. After a quick wash, a meal, and some much needed rest, he was very soon on his way back to the University.

### Chapter 12

Tristan pressed as hard for the University as he had for Astoria, arriving in Dara exhausted, unshaven, and covered in dust and sweat. He was so anxious to see Arora that he did not even stop to clean up but sought her out immediately, though it might have been a more pleasant reunion for her if he had! He found her in her rooms, talking to a student after the day's lectures were finished. It took Raye a moment to recognize Tristan, but when he did, he was not pleased to see him. "What are you doing here?" scowled the boy. Tristan could not help himself, after all he had been through, being confronted so by a mere boy was just too much.

He burst out laughing at the pure irony of the confrontation, and it was some time before he regained control of himself enough to answer, "I have come to speak with Arora."

"Professor Arora and I," Raye began, emphasizing the title, "are in the midst of an important discussion. Whatever you have to say can certainly wait. Besides, I thought you had been arrested? You could at least bathe occasionally."

Arora rolled her eyes at the rudeness of her student, "Raye, we can finish this later. The major causes for the first battle of Corona really are not so vital that we cannot discuss them at a future time."

"But I was here first," whined the boy, "he is not fit to be seen in polite company. Why is he more important than I am? He is not even a student!"

"Of course he is," smiled Arora in amusement at the very idea, "he was registered as a student just the other day." Tristan gave her a horrified look, but Raye little noticed, as she continued, "all of my students are important, Tristan just has some news that I have been anxious to hear. We will discuss your questions later." The boy glared at Tristan as he left the room, but he allowed them a moment alone.

Arora quickly shut the door behind the boy, and as grubby as he was, she eagerly embraced her grungy husband. Once they had finished with the necessary greetings and endearments, they got down to business. Arora was disturbed by Tristan's news, but it was nothing surprising. Her role as a professor was going well, the students flocked to her lectures and some of the other faculty were growing a little jealous. As the head of a department, she was authorized to find new faculty to work beneath her, and she was actively seeking highly qualified individuals to assist her in actually teaching something useful at the benighted institution. She was also allowed an equal vote on all issues addressed by the University, which allowed the Brethren to know exactly what was happening at the highest levels of the school.

Pallin and his three associates had been keeping a close eye on things, but there had been no further threats to her life, though she thought someone was trying to undermine her authority from above, which seemed likely with Tristan's news. The students, though always eager to learn, seemed ravenous for knowledge that actually meant something, Arora's lectures were always full, which made security a little more difficult, but also prevented attacks that the perpetrator would rather keep secret. A curious rumor was also circulating that a man had fallen asleep in a disreputable inn and his horse had come in through the front door and dragged him away. Tristan then recounted his encounter with Arora's attacker; his unicorn had found him in his enchanted sleep and would take him back to Astoria for the Lady to deal with. They talked for as long as they could, but all too soon a knock came at the door, Arora peeped her head out to find another student waiting politely with a question. Tristan felt it better not to be seen alone in her quarters, so disappeared out the window only to find a naked sword at his throat.

Pallin quickly sheathed his blade once he recognized Tristan through the dirt and unshaven face, laughed he, "what happened to you?"

Tristan joined in his mirth "it has been a long journey!" He told his tale, quickly sobering both men, before he continued, "are you here simply to threaten anyone who cares to jump out of a window? I do appreciate the close watch you are keeping on my wife, however. Has anyone noticed your security measures?"

"I do not think anyone has noticed anything suspicious," said Pallin, "we try to be discrete and most of the people around here are so caught up in their own little worlds that they would not notice us even did we wear bright red tunics, wide-brimmed hats with gaudy feathers, and openly brandished our swords." Tristan smiled at this observation, sadly it was not far from the truth, except regarding the swords, which most were all too happy to scowl at in unofficial sanctimoniousness.

"Since I am now an 'official student,' I can help with your guard duties," said Tristan, grinning wryly, "at least once I have a chance to clean up." Pallin smiled and directed him to their quarters, which they shared with four other students. Tristan thanked him in farewell, washing up had never felt so good nor had sleep ever been so gratefully received, he awoke nearly a day later.

Pallin gave him a hard time for being able to sleep through the racket of five other students, but he was glad to see his friend well-rested and clean! It was too late in the day to attend any lectures, but Pallin was happy to explain their plans and schedule for protecting Arora. There was always someone close by, either in her classes, the dining hall, or outside her rooms; their student robes provided a wonderful way to conceal a sword. Arora also carried her weapon with her whenever she was abroad.

They went to dinner, claiming their share of the evening meal, Raye and some of his friends came and sat beside Tristan and Pallin, sneered he, "greetings gentlemen, I see you have deigned to dine with the commoners. We are honored by your presence, especially since you have discovered the virtues of water." Tristan just shook his head at the boy's rudeness. "You will both remember that Professor Arora is a lady and will treat her accordingly," growled the boy, "she is under my protection."

"Your protection?" asked Tristan skeptically.

The boy said in utmost contempt, "yes, my protection! I am the fourth son of a very wealthy lord and you would be wise not to cross me, for I have extensive skill with a blade."

"I see," said Tristan, "what exactly do you have against me?"

The boy smiled viciously and went for the throat, "you interfere far too much in things that do not concern you! I do not like meddlers, especially peasants who interfere. It is one thing to trifle with a mental pygmy like Geff, but quite another to interfere with me, the University, or an esteemed Professor! You would be wise to quietly disappear, but I fear wisdom is not one of your strengths, so I cannot expect you to do as you are told."

"And how exactly am I meddling with any of that?" asked Tristan patiently.

"Your very presence is irksome to me," sighed the boy, "and I do not think the professor appreciates it either."

"Perhaps we should let her speak for herself," smiled Tristan wryly.

"A lady should not have to say she is dissatisfied," said the boy in disgust, "a true gentleman prevents any irritation that he possibly can."

"I will keep that in mind," said Tristan, his knowing smile only deepening. They resumed the thoughtful silence of eating, but many dark looks passed from Raye's friends towards Tristan.

Since he had slept all day, Tristan felt refreshed enough to take the first part of the night watch. After supper, Arora attended the infamous debate upon the lawn, but said little. A few of her more promising students even found enough courage to make a few semi-rational statements. It was a start! Tristan mingled with the other students and talked briefly with each of the other Brethren scattered about the crowd. After the debate, Arora retired to her quarters for some much needed sleep. She left the window open and Tristan hid himself nearby, listening and watching intently. The night wore on slowly with nothing more exciting than a catfight interrupting Tristan's watch. Shortly after midnight, a pair of men approached, whispering quietly to one another, stopping not far from Tristan's hiding place.

"You are sure you can do it?" asked an older voice.

"Yes," said a younger voice, "it will not be difficult."

"I hope for your sake it is not," said the older man, as he ambled off. The boy crept towards the open window, concealing himself in the shadows; Tristan kept an eye on the fellow, but his watch would soon be at an end.

A dark shape quietly approached Arora's window, the man looked around cautiously, suddenly the boy jumped out of the shadows and said, "who goes there?"

"Who cares to ask?" asked the confused man, he had been looking for Tristan, not some boy hidden in the shadows.

"I will ask the questions," growled the boy.

"And who gave you such authority?" retorted the man.

"I am acting under the authority of various important personages associated with the University," declared the boy.

"And what exactly is your goal?" asked the mystified man.

"I am to keep a close watch upon this window tonight," said the boy, "there are foul plans afoot."

"I see," said the man, "and who has alerted you to these plans and who is doing the planning?"

"Why should I answer your questions?" sniffed the boy derisively.

"Because we seem to serve a common purpose," replied the man, "it is also my duty to guard this window against hostile forces."

Arora, awakened by the debate, stuck her head out the window and said, "if you two must argue, can you do it elsewhere?" Both of the men jumped in surprise and made polite bows to the lady.

"I am sorry to awaken you, my lady," said the boy, "but this man insists upon asking foolish questions and will not reveal his business."

"And what exactly is your business outside my window at such an hour?" asked Arora dryly.

The boy puffed out his chest and said, "I am here to defend you against those who would do you harm."

"And what hostile foe am I facing save a lack of sleep?" asked she.

"We should discuss this in private," said the boy.

"I agree," said Arora, "you must all three come inside and we will discuss this civilly and quietly, that we awaken no one else with this conundrum.

"Three?" gasped the boy, as Tristan stepped out of his hiding place, grinning widely.

"Three," laughed Tristan at the boy's surprise, "let us not keep the lady waiting, I do believe that is the gentlemanly thing to do?" The three men traipsed into the building and quickly found themselves facing Arora in her own quarters.

"My lady," began the boy, "what are these men doing lurking outside your window at such an hour?"

"I will ask the questions Raye," said Arora patiently, "what exactly are you doing outside my window at this time of night?"

The boy swallowed nervously and said, "it has come to the attention of some of the faculty that your life may be in danger. For your protection, they proposed that a watch should be kept on your person. I volunteered for the first shift, as I am skilled with a blade. I was maintaining my assigned position outside your window, ready to ward off any would-be invaders, when this man happened upon me. And yet another man was hidden in the shadows watching everything! I must say that I have distrusted this man from the first, he has negatively influenced at least one fellow student and I have reason to suspect him in the attempt on your life at the concert."

"And what would you have done had a true threat arisen?" asked Arora.

"I would have defended your life with my blade," said the boy proudly.

"And what if you were outmatched by this attacker?" asked Arora, "Would you have bought my life with yours?"

"Any true man would call it a fair exchange to die in place of a lady," said the boy gallantly, throwing Tristan a disdainful look.

"What training have you had with a sword?" asked she.

"I have been instructed by the finest available warriors since I was big enough to hold a sword," said the boy.

"Your sentiments do you credit, but I fear you will sell your life for naught," said Arora with a grim shake of her head, "I do not wish an unsuspecting student to die on the blade of a professional killer."

"I am not an unsuspecting student," said the boy in irritation, "I know what it is I face."

"Do you?" asked Arora, "Are you willing to face someone who has sold their soul in exchange for dark and vile powers? Are you willing to risk your life on the possibility that your swordsmanship is better than that of a seasoned warrior? Have you ever taken a life or even drawn blood? Have you faced a living man in actual battle where your life hangs in the balance? I do not doubt your heart, but I will not allow you to risk your life in defense of mine if you are not up to the task."

The boy was not happy with her assessment of his skills and said, "I am every bit the warrior that either of these men could ever hope to become! I may never have faced someone in actual combat but I am not afraid."

"It is not whether you are afraid or not," said Arora, "it is whether or not you will get yourself killed in the process because you are lacking in skills or freeze in terror."

"May I ask what these two were doing outside your window?" grumped the boy petulantly.

Tristan nodded to Arora's silent question. "These men were doing what you were attempting to do," said she, "there is a threat against my life as long as I remain here. There are those who do not appreciate my interference in matters concerning the University. They and a select few are constantly guarding my person from potential threats."

"Why do you trust such a man to protect you my lady?" asked the boy, as he glared at Tristan anew.

"I trust him more than any man alive," said she, "and you would do well to do the same."

"Why?" asked the boy.

"He is a skilled warrior and a dear friend," said she, "I trust him with my life." She frowned slightly in puzzlement, "why are you so interested in my safety?"

The boy blushed and said, "I have traveled a bit during my journey, and everywhere I went I was ignored or ridiculed. You are respected and listened to everywhere you go. I want to know why so I can gain such respect. You also seem to know a great deal about many things rather than much about some small topic that no one cares about; you are the only professor that actually speaks about useful things. I have also come to respect you greatly as a teacher and as a person."

"You would risk your life on only a few weeks' acquaintance?" asked Arora in surprise.

"Any man should risk his life in defense of even an unknown lady," said the boy simply.

"Are there many students or faculty that feel as you?" asked Arora.

"There are a many of us concerned with your safety, though few are skilled enough to defend you," said the boy, "but such as have skill and are willing have formed an impromptu security detail to better protect your safety."

"Why are the faculty convinced my life is in danger?" asked Arora.

The boy was silent for a moment and then said, "I am not fully aware of all the details, but it seems there have been hints whispered amongst the faculty that some are not happy with your presence here. Also, there was the attempt on your life at the concert, though few of the students are aware of it."

"I am not convinced that risking your life in this way is a good idea," said Arora.

"Who will protect you?" asked the boy in astonishment.

"I have protection enough with these two men and their associates," said Arora.

The boy looked at her angrily, "they say that you are married and it should be your husband's duty to protect you! Where is he in your hour of need? If I ever meet this disgraceful man, I will have much to say to him."

Tristan smiled at the boy, "you have already met him, and you have also said more than you probably should."

"Who is he?" asked the startled boy.

"I am he," laughed Tristan, "but this must remain a secret between ourselves, it must not be known to the wrong people. I appreciate your dedication to my wife's safety, but I will not allow you to risk your life or hers by letting you guard her if I feel you lack skill with your blade."

"You will not allow?" asked the skeptical boy, "I am master of my own actions."

"Yes," said Tristan dangerously, "but I am in charge of my wife's safety and an inept guard is worse than no guard at all. You must prove to me that you are as skilled as you believe before I allow you to ward her safety. The same will go for any student or professor who wishes to be part of her guard. If you wish to try your skill against mine, you may do so and then we will discuss this matter further."

The boy looked dejectedly at Arora, but she only shook her head, "you must bow to his decisions, I will not interfere in such matters. If you wish to go forward with your plan, you must do as he says."

The boy looked pathetically around the room for a sympathetic face, but found none, said he with a sigh, "it will be as you say it must. What do you propose?"

Tristan nodded approvingly and said, "meet me in the grove behind the University tomorrow around noon and we will see if there is skill to match your boast. Bring any other would-be protectors if you wish." Tristan and Raye retired to their quarters, Arora tried to return to sleep, and Tristan's replacement assumed his post.

The morning dawned cool and fair, a perfect day for a little swordplay. Tristan, Pallin, and one of the other Brethren assembled in the little clearing at the center of the grove behind the University complex. Around noon, a dozen young men and two professors wandered into the glade. Tristan, a little surprised at the number of people, questioned Raye, "is everyone here for the same purpose?"

The boy smiled at his surprise, "yes, there is much interest in keeping the lady safe."

Tristan faced the gathered men, "you have all been briefed by Raye?" Head nodded all around. "Very well," said Tristan, "anyone who wishes to participate in guarding the safety of Professor Arora will only do so under my authority. You must meet or exceed my expectations for martial skills, and must also obey any orders given by myself or my associates, failure to comply with either requirement will result in exclusion from such duties. Any questions? This is a voluntary position and you may withdraw at any time, assuming it is not in the middle of one of your assigned watches."

No one had any questions, so the sparring began. Tristan faced off with Raye, as he was the one who had initiated the whole ordeal. The boy was far from a seasoned warrior, but he had quick feet and good reflexes, his technique was excellent, and a little practice in the more rough and tumble methods of real world fighting, he would make a challenging foe. As they sheathed their swords, Tristan said, "very good! There are a few things I would like to work on, but your skill equals your boast." The boy grinned from ear to ear, he still was a little distrustful of the man, but Tristan's skill as a swordsman had earned his grudging respect. One down, thirteen to go! The three Brethren rotated between the remaining recruits, finding two more students and one of the Professors with enough skill with a blade that Tristan felt they would not pose a danger to others or themselves. The rest had little skill, but high ambitions. Reluctantly, Tristan agreed to work with the assembled recruits on their technique, for some it would mean learning which end of a sword was which!

The four men who had passed Tristan's test would be paired up with one of the five Brethren and then would be allowed to stand watch with their new mentor. It might be annoying to have an accomplice that needed constant training and supervision, but having another set of eyes would be very helpful, it would also relieve some of the tedium that comes with constant vigilance and gave the students something to do besides absorbing useless information. Tristan scoured Dara, looking for used swords and weapons to use in his new training program, he acquired a dozen old blades that looked like they had last seen service in the Dragon Wars. He wrapped each blade in padding to partially protect his students from the consequences of an unintended blow.

He still occasionally protected Arora himself, but as his sword training became more popular and his confidence in the students' abilities grew, he took a more supervisory and teaching role and became less involved in the actual guard duty. Though weapons and violence were frowned upon by a majority of the Professors and many of the students, enough found an interest in such things that once word spread of Tristan's fencing classes, he was overwhelmed with requests for instruction in the art of the sword. Arora, seeing an opportunity, took Tristan on as an 'associate professor' in her department, claiming that the sword was an integral part of Lore and Myth, insisting that learning more about the warrior arts was vital for her students' comprehension of history, myth, and legend, and as she was head of her department, no one could gainsay her. As the popularity of her classes and Tristan's grew, the complaining lessened significantly, except from those who were jealous of her success. It was felt that whatever was good for continued student growth, must be good for the University, even if one disagreed with the finer details of what was taught. It was one of the advantages of the University that it had no governing body save the voting members of the faculty, it was also its greatest weakness.

### Chapter 13

The weeks passed and no more attempts were made on Arora's life. Tristan began to wonder if they had somehow thwarted the Brotherhood's plans of disposing' of her in secret by making her such a prominent figure on campus that anything that happened to her could not be done quietly. However, this did not mean that the Brotherhood would not use other means to destroy her influence within the University. Vicious rumors began to circulate alleging many things about her background and curriculum, though no one could verify the truth thereof and they often conflicted with each other. If anything, the controversy made Arora's classes even more popular, during which, she sang or played briefly some legend or history and then spent the balance of the hour discussing the events behind the song.

So great was the demand for her talents, that she agreed to perform at least twice a month for any who wished to attend. In her lectures, she taught many histories, legends, and stories that raised eyebrows amongst her colleagues but she hoped opened the minds of her students. Many had questions and were ravenous for substance and Truth, both of which were sorely lacking in their other classes. Many students asked if she could teach them to sing or play an instrument, she told them she could, but that was not her purpose at the University, nor did she have time for such pursuits, if they persisted, she directed them to someone who could, and several of them quietly set out for Astoria in quest thereof.

As the weeks progressed, the rumors continued unabated, each incarnation worse than the last, even as several unexpected guests arrived on campus and sought out Arora. The Lady had been faithful to her word of sending other Teachers to the University to see if they could talk some sense into the student population. Arora gladly welcomed them into her department, though they had not her musical skill, they were equally knowledgeable, if not more so, in history, legends, lore, the Truth, and Common Law. She was overwhelmed by her teaching responsibilities and these newcomers were eager to help, soon, their popularity and renown as instructors nearly matched her own. Their presence eased the crowding in her own lectures, but she still attracted a crowd whenever she taught or performed.

The other Professors watched in astonishment as students flocked to lectures on what they deemed nonsense or fairy tales, while their own 'rational' class attendance plummeted. Most were displeased with the situation, but a few took the time to sit in on a few lectures by these 'preposterous professors' and began to realize their own lectures were lacking something vital: relevance. The more sinister agents planted within the student body and faculty grew frustrated with the University's easy tolerance of such benighted views, but were overjoyed at the growing unrest amongst the more unpopular professors. They could no longer plot a quiet demise for the songstress, but they could get her thrown out in disgrace, which would be even better! They now plotted to undermine her authority and have the whole department disbanded; they even had a valuable weapon on their side: the truth. They circulated a new rumor and this time it was disturbingly true.

After a full day of teaching, Arora had withdrawn to her rooms after supper hoping for some well-earned rest. It was not to be. A bang on the door brought her suddenly awake, she opened it carefully and there stood Raye, demanding to be seen at once. "May I come in?" asked the red-faced youth.

"Of course," said she, "what ever is the matter?"

"Is it true?" demanded the boy once the door was securely closed.

"Is what true?" asked Arora patiently.

"The rumor," said the boy.

"Which one?" asked Arora wryly, "The rumor that I am actually a witch and have cast a spell upon all who listen to me or perhaps that I am married to an ogre who eats small children for breakfast or even that I am out to take over the University and turn it into an all-girl school?"

"None of those," said the boy in frustration, "the rumor that you are one of those despicable Brethren."

Arora sat down suddenly on the bed, "and when did this rumor start?"

"I heard it at supper and made my way straight here to have it contradicted," said the boy desperately, "is it true?"

"And what if it is?" asked Arora, "What would that mean?"

"It would mean that you have lied to us all," said the boy.

"On what grounds?" asked Arora patiently.

"What do you mean?" asked the boy in confusion.

"Have I ever said I was or was not a member of the organization in question?" asked Arora.

"Not that I have ever heard," said the boy, "but what is your point?"

"If I have never said that I am not part of that organization then I have not lied to anyone," said Arora.

"But you deceived us," said the boy, on the verge of tears.

"How?" asked she with compassion strong in her voice.

"Professors are supposed to be wise and knowledgeable and rational and free thinkers," said the boy, "not part of some group that turns people into unthinking entities that merely wish to replicate themselves by spreading their indoctrination."

"Have you noticed me indoctrinating anyone?" asked Arora archly, "Are not students free to come and go as they please? Can they not voice their disagreements with me on a daily basis at the nightly debate or after class or come to my quarters and do as you have done with your concerns? You are in my classes day after day and yet I never hear you complain of shallowness of thought or smallness of mind. In fact, most of my students are surprised at actually having learned something worth knowing."

The boy cried aloud, "but Professor Grim says the Brethren are a horrible excuse for an organization and should be disbanded for the common good. Professor Brett says they plan to conquer the world and remake it in their own image. Many of my professors say such things. What am I to believe?"

"Believe what you have experienced," said Arora, "where did your Professors come by their information? Is it from experience or from rumors they heard in the marketplace? Why not ask them about the source of their information and see what kind of an answer you get. Otherwise, rely on your personal experience."

"What experience?" protested the boy, "I have never encountered any of these people except perhaps you, if you truly claim to be one of them. You never did directly answer my question."

She smiled at him and said, "of all the rumors about myself that I have yet heard, this is the only one with any truth in it. I am a member of the Brethren."

Instead of feeling anger as he thought he would at such a betrayal, if it could be called a betrayal, he only felt confusion, asked he wanly, "why am I not angry with you?"

Replied she, "because you are doubting your own suppositions about who the Brethren are and what they do. Once you based your opinion solely on your professors' prejudices, now you are recalling your experience with me and wondering who is right. Has my whole tenure as a Professor been one great act or are your professors simply misinformed or willfully ignorant? What have been your interactions and feelings towards Tristan, Pallin, and my other guards? How about the new teachers in my department? They share the same affiliation!"

The boy looked at her in open disbelief, "all of you?"

She laughed, "yes, all of us."

"But you have not tried to indoctrinate anyone," said the boy, "and you certainly do not seem the kind of people who plan to take over the world. You do not even seem all that mystical or mysterious or self-righteous, in fact you seem very...well...normal."

She smiled at his observations and said, "taking the Oath does not make one any less human. In fact, it may make us more so by encouraging us to cultivate those qualities that set man apart from the irrational beasts. To the best of my knowledge, I have violated no law or rule by becoming a Professor here. Some of your professors may misunderstand the Brethren or disagree with their doctrine, but it was not brought up as a means of excluding someone from teaching here whom the faculty deemed worthy of such a position. I am sorry for the roundabout way in which you discovered my affiliations, but if you had asked openly, I would have told you. But since you never did, I do not think you even thought it possible?"

The boy grinned sheepishly, "I thought you the opposite of what one of these Brethren must be like. I greatly respect the other teachers in your department and also enjoy the company of several of the men in your guard. I am not particularly friendly with your husband but I respect him as a teacher and a man of honor. I must rely on my personal experience and not upon the prejudice of others."

"That this rumor is circulating," mused Arora, "tells me there are those amongst the faculty or students that work with or belong to the Brotherhood of the Serpent."

"The what?" asked the boy.

Arora said, "they are a vile group bent on spreading evil and chaos over the whole face of the world; they are the men behind the attempts on my life."

"Attempts?" asked the boy, "I thought there had only been one, that night at the concert."

Arora looked at him grimly, "there was another that night, a dark man was waiting in my quarters when I returned; he threatened me with death if I did not leave immediately. I told him I would not be leaving and had to fight him off with a sword."

"You can use a sword?" asked the boy in astonishment.

"Yes," said Arora with a slight smile, "perhaps not so well as Tristan, but it is a required skill for any who wish to travel abroad in the service of the Brethren, for there are many dangers upon the road."

"Why do they want you dead or gone?" asked the boy.

"We believe they were involved in the founding of this place, if not in its daily functioning," said Arora, "we believe their goal is to spread so much useless information abroad in the Eastern Realms that no one will know what to believe and nobody will listen to anything anymore. The University flings idiocy about like a farmer sowing seed! And their plans are succeeding: you cannot get anyone to listen to a word you say in most of Syre and Arca. My presence here means students are becoming familiar with things that might actually be interesting or useful, which weakens their ability to remain ignorant of the nonsense they are learning from other instructors. By getting rid of me, either physically or through disgrace, these vile men have no competition and the students continue to unwittingly participate in their evil plot. That they have turned to rumors to try disgracing me is at least encouraging in the fact that perhaps the attempts on my life are at least temporarily on hold. That the rumors are spreading means that there is someone, or several someones, about to initiate them."

The boy stared at Arora, dumbfounded. He had never even considered that he might be ignorantly caught up in such a plot! "What can I do to help?" asked he.

She smiled, "I am glad you ask. I need someone who can discover where these rumors are coming from and also to inform me if they notice anything else odd about the University or its inhabitants. This mission will be far more dangerous than guarding me if you are discovered." The boy smiled in anticipation of the danger and agreed to report anything he could discover.

Arora summoned Tristan and discussed her recent discoveries. He agreed with her conclusions and also suggested that they discontinue constantly guarding her person and commit their resources to more vital tasks since her safety no longer seemed in imminent danger. She agreed, putting the Brethren and the more reliable students from her guard on the trail of the rumor-mongers would yield far more interesting results than skulking about in the shadows ever would. As they finished their discussion, a knock came at the door.

Arora answered it and found a student waiting with a sealed letter. She took it and thanked the boy, breaking the seal and opening the letter, Tristan reading curiously over her shoulder. It was an official summons to stand before the assembled faculty on the following day; they would take a vote, which would determine her future tenure at the University. She glanced at Tristan and he shook his head. It seemed someone was finally going to take some of the rumors seriously. They would both need their sleep to face the next day's trial, so Tristan bid her goodnight and both sought their beds, but before Tristan retired, he made his rounds of the other Brethren on campus and made sure they would be at the proceedings to defend Arora, if necessary. The morning came far too early, putting on her best gown and concealing her sword about her person, just in case, she then went to face her accusers.

A great majority of the faculty was assembled on the lawn; the curious students stood at a distance, but were not allowed to join in the proceedings. The charges were that Arora was unfit to continue in her post as a Professor and department head, if a majority of the faculty voted against her, she would be expelled from her position and barred from the University. She walked with calm dignity to her appointed seat amidst the gathered faculty, her associate professors sat behind her in their assigned positions. She felt reassurance flow through her, knowing Tristan was at her back, for this would be nothing compared to some of the adventures she had lived through!

"Professor Arora," said an ancient man, acting as the moderator of the proceedings, "you are accused of many things, any one of which may qualify you for immediate expulsion from your current post. How do you plead?"

"I plead nothing, sir," said she, "until I know what the charges are against me?"

The man smiled grimly, "of course, I will gladly inform those here gathered of the charges of which you stand accused. Many vicious rumors about you currently float about the campus, but most of these we hope are hearsay. The faculty has, however heard several charges that cannot be so easily dismissed and if true, are most disturbing indeed. The charges with which we are most gravely concerned are these: you are accused of being married to a man of questionable character or possibly to no one at all, otherwise he would be made known to all and sundry. You are further accused of inciting a lust for violence amongst various of our students and may have been involved in the disappearance of a student called Geff some months ago. Finally, you are accused of being a member of a subversive and divisive group that calls themselves the Brethren and hopes to gain a foothold over the minds of our students. How plead you?"

Arora stood and made eye contact with as many of her fellow Professors as she could, smiling confidently, "gentlemen of the University, I am honored to stand before you today. The charges laid at my feet are grave if true, but I hope to prove beyond doubt that they are nothing but nonsense arising from the minds of malicious or bored individuals. The first accusation about my husband or lack thereof is understandable. One qualification for accepting this post was that I quickly find myself a husband so as not to distract the wholly male population of this University. I then informed my interviewer that I was indeed already married, but have kept my husband's identity a secret to keep him from unnecessary irritation should it become more widely known. The reason for the secrecy was not to keep any infamous deeds of his from public knowledge but to spare him the unwanted attention. I am married to one of the most honorable and respectable men who currently walks the earth, many of you have even met him, Tristan, please stand forth." Tristan stood up briefly, as they had previously arranged should this situation arise, and bowed to the assembled faculty. A gasp of astonishment ran through the gathered crowd at this strange revelation, but Tristan resumed his seat and smiled encouragingly at his wife.

She continued, "you must decide for yourselves whether my husband is as infamous as rumor holds him to be, but as you can see, he does exist. The next charge, that I am inciting students to love violence rather than peace and am also personally involved in the disappearance of a student called Geff are preposterous. Yes, I have encouraged some of my students to take some basic fencing lessons, but only if they are truly interested. I am personally very fond of peace, but there comes a time when peace must be defended with a sword, for there are always those who would unjustly prey upon others; I encourage my students to learn the sword only as a means of defending themselves and others from those who would take advantage of them. As for your accusation that Geff vanished whilst in my company I would argue otherwise. He has just returned from his journey and would like to make it known that he is in fact safe and hopefully a little wiser. Geff, please step forward."

Geff stepped out of the gathered students and bowed respectfully, "the lady speaks truly. Tristan nearly died saving my life some months ago, but for him I would not stand before you today. It would be a great shame to lose such a knowledgeable and caring Professor over such paltry fables." He bowed again and resumed his anonymity amongst the suddenly murmuring audience.

Arora resumed, "the final accusation: that I am a member of a divisive and seditious organization, are utterly false. It is true that I am a member of the Brethren, however." She paused and let her declaration sink in, once the audience recovered from their shock, she continued, "I know many of you hold very negative views of the Brethren, but I stand before you as a representative of the type of people we are. We are not out to conquer the world or spread misinformation or scare people into believing us. We simply speak the Truth and leave the decision to our hearers. We welcome any who wish to join our ranks, but do not look down upon those who remain unconvinced. Those of you with no personal experience with the Brethren, I ask to consider your interactions with me over the last few months and let that be a factor in determining your opinion of the organization as a whole, rather than letting the bias of a select few distort your view of me and my fellows. I rest my case." She resumed her seat.

The audience was dead silent for a moment before the entire company erupted in a great uproar as everyone tried to talk at once. "Silence!" raged the old man, "Silence please!" Eventually he managed to quiet the raucous crowd. "Will the witnesses against the Professor please come forward and plead their cases or forever remain silent?" roared the old man above the din.

Raye came forward first and said, "I was to stand forth and accuse the lady of associating with a man of questionable character, who was also incriminated in the disappearance of Geff, but Geff it seems has not actually disappeared and I have no reason to doubt either the lady's character or her husband's. They are very honorable people and I respect them greatly." He bowed and retreated into the audience. The old man looked a bit surprised but called the next witness forward. He went through half a dozen witnesses: people who had taken classes from Arora or Tristan or professors who had interacted with her. None could be found to testify against her character, though several disagreed with her material, no one doubted her sincerity.

Finally, the old man said, "are there any more who would testify against the Professor?" No one stood forth. The man then said, "I hereby declare all discussion on this case closed. It is now up to a vote of Professor Arora's peers to determine her fate. All in favor of dismissing her on the grounds of conduct unbefitting a Professor please stand up." A few individuals stood, but they were few and far between. Then he said, "all in favor of allowing her to continue in her present post, please do likewise." As if on cue, the whole assemblage seemed to stand as one. The old man said, "the vote is official and binding. Professor Arora will continue in her present position until further notice. I thank you for your time and cooperation. I declare these proceedings at an end."

"What!" screamed a man from the back, "How can that be your decision?"

The old man looked around vaguely for the source of the voice and said, "it is not my decision, it was the will of this assembly."

"She is obviously unfit for such a position!" said the angry voice, "I demand a revote."

The old man said, "a revote will require new evidence and a sixty day waiting period."

"Do not quote rules to me old man, I helped write them!" scowled the man, who had finally worked his way through the gathered Professors and made his way to the front to confront the ancient moderator. "If there cannot be a revote then I demand a duel," said the stranger. The audience murmured in surprise.

"A duel?" said the old man skeptically, "On what grounds?"

"On the grounds that she is unfit to continue as she has," said the stranger.

"You have no cause for dueling over such a matter," said the old man, "it is not within your jurisdiction to do so and the rightful authorities have already decided the matter."

The stranger snarled at the unhelpful old man, "then I demand recompense for the injury I took during an unprovoked attack some months ago while trying to give this impetuous young woman some helpful advice."

"Is this true?" asked the old man of Arora.

She stood and faced the old man and her accuser, "if I am understanding him correctly, he does not consider breaking into my quarters and ambushing me with death threats worthy grounds for defending myself?"

The old man stared at the stranger, "what have you to say to this?"

"I still demand a duel," said the stranger, "even if I have no legal grounds for it."

"I would not duel with you even if you did," said Arora, "you have no honor therefore a duel betwixt us would be pointless."

"I gave you a chance," snarled the stranger, as he lunged forward with his sword drawn, but Arora was expecting something of the sort and had hers out and waiting to meet his first blow. "You are a nuisance and must be removed at all costs; secrecy and sabotage have failed so outright violence must suffice."

As the pair swirled about in a lethal dance of flashing steel, the whole world seemed to go mad. One of the Brethren sitting in the back of their assigned section screamed and fell, clutching his ruined throat. The man seated next to him drew his sword in response but took the killer's blade in the heart, with his last strength, he drove his own sword into his foe's chest and the pair fell in a crumpled heap. Several more darkly clad men with swords leapt into the fray as the gathered Brethren scrambled to fend off the attack. The audience froze with fear and confusion, as all about them swords flashed in the morning sun. Among the students, a ruckus erupted as a group of students armed with swords tried to join the battle, but Tristan had had the foresight to arm some of the more talented swordsmen amongst his students and they fell upon their peers with a vengeance. Somewhere in the middle distance an equid screamed in fury, as a terrible snarling erupted over the din, the only warning as a small pack of lurkers made to fall upon the gathered crowd. But they had not come within reach of the crowd before nine unicorns fell upon them: hoof and horn against fang and claw.

It was a swirling maelstrom of death with everyone fighting for their lives. As the men of the Brotherhood fell, they lost mental control over their mounts, the beasts stopped dead, staring blankly into space, which made them an easy target for flashing hooves or swords. A few of the monsters were released from their bewitchment when the crystals upon their breast collars shattered, the disoriented beasts fled from the conflict only to be hunted down later. Almost as soon as it had begun, it was over. All the lurkers were dead, save one that had fled, but Pallin and his mount were in close pursuit. One of the unicorns had taken a fatal wound to the neck fading upon death. Two of the Brethren had died almost immediately with the sneak attack that had initiated the conflict. Arora's opponent was down and gravely injured, but laughed viciously as he took his own life.

The other five members of the Brotherhood lay dead, either from their wounds or by their own hand lest they be captured. One of the Brethren nursed a wounded shoulder, but his unicorn was happily drooling all over the wound to ward off any foul curses that might have accompanied the slash. Another lay on the ground, futilely trying to keep his innards from creeping out of the gaping hole in his abdomen, his unicorn was the one that had fallen to the lurkers. The unicorns whose masters now lay dead quietly approached the stricken man, one nuzzled up against him and inspected his wound, in the blink of an eye she took the wound upon herself and fell over dead, following her master into eternity. The now fully healed man stared in disbelief at his intact abdomen and looked mournfully at the fallen creature, which faded away even as he watched. The second of the two came slowly towards the now healed man, he flung his arms about the great neck and they found comfort in their shared grief. Five of Tristan's students had been armed, but two now lay dead. There had been three students ready to join in the fight on the side of the Brotherhood, but all but one had been slain, the lone survivor had been disarmed and clutched his injured shoulder while his classmates held him at sword point while he glared daggers at all and sundry. Miraculously no one amongst the onlookers had been injured.

"What just happened?" asked the old man, once he again found his voice.

"I believe that a group of very evil men has made their final, desperate attack against the University and truth," said Tristan quietly, "I also believe they are the source of all the rumors pertaining to Arora. Hopefully their influence upon this institution is at its end, and in that light I also hope the University can now reach the potential I know it has." He turned to the captured boy, "is this all of your associates?"

The boy sneered at him, "I will tell you nothing. You and your thrice cursed Master are a blight upon the face of the world and must be eradicated."

Tristan looked at the boy grimly, saying in a dangerous voice, "I know you are not yet high enough in the circles of the Brotherhood to have attained such hate and malice, nor the power to end your life at will. This I also know, that you stand guilty of treason, if not murder, and will be held accountable for every drop of blood spilt this day. There is no country or ruler that would deny that you deserve death for your villainy. But I offer you this small hope: any information you can provide about these evil men and their plots may gain you a shred of mercy when the deciding of your fate comes to pass. You are young and misguided, but I do not believe you have already sold your soul irrevocably into evil. This is your only chance to avoid the fate that has already befallen your friends."

Tristan glanced solemnly at the fallen students, and the boy's eyes followed, when next he looked into the boy's eyes, Tristan saw that hatred had been replaced by fear. Quavered the boy, "I do not know much, they were a close bunch and never said more than we absolutely needed to know, but I will tell you what I can. I am not ready to die!"

Tristan gently helped him to his feet, "you have made a wise decision, let us see to your shoulder and then we will discuss your future." The boy nodded dejectedly and allowed himself to be led off to a more private place. The boy's wound was cleaned and dressed and he was given a fresh tunic. After which, Tristan faced him solemnly and asked, "what can you tell me of these men, their plots, and their involvement with you and the University?"

The boy swallowed nervously and said, "around the time Professor Arora appeared on campus, rumors started to circulate that there were some very powerful men seeking apprentices from amongst the student population. Several of us tracked those rumors to their source and discovered the man who called himself Gorge, the man who confronted your wife after the trial. He told us many things and hinted at more, he promised power and wealth beyond imagining for any who cared to follow in his footsteps. Most of my friends were too timid or skeptical to take him up on the offer, but three of us fell in with him and his followers. We did many things to assist in whatever plots or plans these sinister men were trying to accomplish, which included spreading the rumors about your wife. We did not understand their full intent, but the lure of such power was intoxicating. We began to learn the art of the sword and other more arcane secrets and skills, though we had far to go before they would allow us into their inner circle. Today, we were told, might be our chance to prove our dedication and courage if the chance arose. It did arise, but it did not end as they had expected. I have counted six different men associated with the scheme, all of which now lie dead. I do not know what their plans were after today, I only know that they were desperate to rid the University of your wife and her influence, apparently at whatever cost to themselves or their future plans.

They hoped the trial would end in her expulsion, but they were forced to confront her directly when she was not condemned. These men had a strange influence over the Professors with whom they spoke and could make them say almost anything they wished. When in the presence of these vile men, the professors would become somnolent and simply repeat whatever they were told. If that did not work, they could scare people into saying whatever they wanted said. In this way, they held sway over various professors, classes, and votes by the faculty. With the arrival of your wife, their influence was greatly hindered, as if her presence somehow warded off their evil manipulations. Her arrival also created a stir amongst the students, many began to reevaluate the gibberish we had once absorbed without question, we actually began to think for ourselves and wonder what was the actual point of all this nonsense. All of which seemed to anger our villainous overseers, they grew more frustrated and desperate with each passing day, until finally they misjudged the situation, leading to their downfall. The only other tidbit of information I possess is that Gorge planned to ride into the uttermost east tonight to meet with someone very important."

Tristan looked seriously at the boy, "your information has been very helpful and will weigh heavily upon your future. Will you decide to continue pursuing evil or to turn from your mistakes and seek again the good and the true? While your information cannot bring back the dead, it can perhaps make some progress in righting some of the wrongs you have helped perpetrate. I will leave you in the hands of my colleagues and the University, and when I return, we will discuss your future further. Farewell."

Tristan rose and went in search of his comrades, and most importantly, his wife. He found her weeping beside the freshly dug graves of the two fallen Brethren and the four dead students, the agents of the Brotherhood had dissolved into oily puddles upon death. He put his arm around her and drew her close, allowing her to weep as long as she needed, and once her sobs had faded to sniffles, he said, "I must ride east tonight. I will take Pallin and his three associates with me, I am sorry to leave you so short handed with your teaching staff, but the boy has revealed some vital information and I must act upon it immediately."

"Come back to me," was all she said, as she buried her face in his arms and wept anew.

When she had finished crying, he continued, "I am leaving the boy in your care. I think there is hope for him, but he will need to be watched. I also think a good dose of your lectures and music will do him, and us all, a great deal of good. Why not perform tonight and let the whole University start to heal from this disaster?" She nodded and he held her quietly for some time, but eventually Pallin and his three associates worked up the nerve to interrupt the pair.

Pallin cleared his throat loudly and said, "we are riding east tonight?"

Tristan nodded, "the General is expecting a visit from his henchman and I intend to pay him my respects in lieu of his dead servant. I will need your help to get into the castle, though none of us may walk away from this one."

The others nodded unconcernedly, they knew the risks when they took their Oaths, and were willing to face a hopeless situation if it was deemed necessary.

"We should bring some of the more skilled students," said Pallin.

Tristan looked at him in surprise, "really?"

Pallin smiled, "we will need more swords than just the five we have. Some of them are looking for a way to help rectify today's events and would be more than happy to walk into danger with us."

Tristan nodded grimly, "make sure they are fully aware of the risks and no one is to come who does not know he may be facing certain death." Pallin saluted and ran off to round up some reinforcements, while Tristan spent the little time remaining before their departure comforting his wife.

### Chapter 14

As evening gathered, most of the University population assembled on the lawn, listening to Arora's sad, but hopeful music that healed hearts as well as soothed shaken nerves. Tristan had bid his wife a warm farewell, both well knowing the dangers of this particular mission and his chosen career in general, and that one day he would not come home, yet neither despaired as their parting would only be temporary, whatever betide. The five Brethren were already mounted and waiting for the three students who had agreed to accompany them. Raye, their unofficial leader, looked quite at home in the saddle, but his two friends were rather awkward, though not in imminent danger of falling off. They rode off as fast as they could safely press the horses, stopping only for a brief rest for themselves and their mounts.

A chill ran up Tristan's spine as he briefly surveyed the castle that he never wished to see again, before retreating into the cover of the woods to rest, before venturing forth that evening for the anticipated meeting. Tristan approached the gate alone, the others remained hidden in the woods, hoping for some sign as to their next move.

Tristan was clad all in black with his hood pulled up, obscuring his face; Taragon looked a terrible warhorse, black as midnight. Taragon approached the gate at an ominous walk, stopping before it as Tristan said in his most sinister voice, "open immediately."

"Who goes?" asked an eerily familiar voice, it would have to be Pratt guarding the gate!

"The General is expecting Gorge, is he not? I have vital information for him," snarled Tristan.

"You are expected," said the man, "but..."

"No buts!" roared Tristan, "You will open this gate now or I will have your head for a doorstop! I am not to be hindered by the likes of you." The man was visibly shaken and complied immediately. Tristan rode into the courtyard and dismounted, pulling Pratt aside as if to speak with him privately; he and lowered his hood, placing a hand over Pratt's mouth to muffle the imminent scream of terror.

"You...you...are dead," stuttered the man in horror.

"And if you do not wish to join me," said Tristan, with a malevolent smile, "you will do as I say." The man nodded helplessly. "Is there another way into the castle besides the main gate?" asked Tristan as fiendishly as he could contrive.

The man nodded and said, "there is a back gate."

Tristan smiled dangerously and said, "you will unlock it and call the watch on that part of the wall down for new orders, unless you would rather find out what lies on the other side of death?" The man blanched in terror, immediately complying. As Pratt scrambled in the direction of the back gate, Tristan followed sedately and pictured the gate in his mind for Taragon. The unicorn passed the image on to his fellows and the unicorns to their riders, they knew what to do.

Pratt unlocked the gate and then shouted up to the watchmen upon the walls that there had been a change in plans, ordering them down. They came curiously and withdrew to the stable for a private conference. Tristan easily rendered them unconscious, disarmed them, and secured them in an empty stall. He and Pratt then disguised themselves as the disabled guards and headed for the back wall as Tristan's men were quietly filing in the back gate. Tristan and the hopeless Pratt walked along the battlements and approached the unsuspecting watchmen on the adjoining side. Once Tristan was sure his men were in and scaling the opposite wall, he took down the curious guards and headed for the front wall. Some of the guards were growing suspicious at the stranger's antics, but Tristan's men moved quickly, and with Pratt's help, all were soon captured, including the sleeping guards and the servants.

Once the castle was secure, Tristan finally asked, "where is the General?"

The morose Pratt replied, "he rode away this morning with two of his minions to resume his former post."

"Are you telling me that there are no members of the Brotherhood of the Serpent in this forsaken heap of rocks?" asked Tristan in astonishment.

"You have captured an empty shell," said Pratt, smiling in wan despair.

"You are not amongst their number?" asked Tristan.

"My men and I are merely mercenaries and the servants are honest men, as far as I know," said Pratt, "we're just here because it pays well."

Tristan shook his head in dismay, "very well. You and your men may go free after I have spoken with them; would any of them know anything about the Brotherhood or the General?"

"No more than I," shrugged the man, "you are not so bad for a ghost."

Tristan smiled grimly, "I am no ghost my friend, though perhaps I appeared dead for a time, I am quite alive."

Tristan and the much relieved Pratt made their rounds of the soldiers and servants within the castle, but no one had any more information that Tristan could use, but perhaps they could use this musty old castle to their advantage? As none of the current residents were apparently guilty of anything beyond a poor choice of employer, Tristan allowed any to leave who would, the rest could stay only if they agreed to abide by his orders. He seemed a much more agreeable master than the General so no one found this a disagreeable change. Tristan's men took turns sleeping and supervising their new abode, just in case someone decided to betray their new masters, though he did send a messenger back to the University to apprise Arora of how matters stood.

Tristan's plan was simple: he would use the castle to trap any messengers of the Brotherhood that had not yet heard of the General's change in address. Over the next few weeks they might actually capture a wayward messenger, at least until the General's new location became more widely known to his minions. They settled in to wait, and to pass the time, Tristan drilled the students, and any interested mercenaries and servants, in sword fighting techniques, otherwise, life continued on as normal for the inhabitants of the castle.

One night, as Tristan sat discussing some historic battle with an eager Raye, Pratt entered the kitchen. He and Brom had been on patrol and between them they dragged an unconscious man. Pratt said, "we found him sneaking about the place and thought you might like to talk to him."

Tristan smiled at the pair ironically, "thank you, I would at that. You did not kill him this time?" The pair laughed as they bowed themselves out of the room, leaving the man in an unconscious heap, facedown on the floor, but slowly he began to stir, then groaned, and sat up, blinking dazedly about. Tristan's hopes of finally apprehending some link to the mysterious General died aborning.

"Tristan!" gasped the now fully conscious man, "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," said Tristan, smiling wryly, "I am sorry for the inconvenient manner of our meeting, but what are you doing sneaking about this stagnant rock heap?"

Trap shakily took a chair and said, "the Lady sent me and several others to keep an eye on this place. A week ago, we saw the head honcho ride off with two of his henchmen in tow. That night we saw a dark stranger come in through the front and another party via the back. We did not hear much to suggest a skirmish so we thought it was just business as usual. Word has just reached us that things are moving faster than we thought, the Lady has ordered us to capture the castle if we can, and find out if anyone here knows anything."

"When are you supposed to strike?" asked Tristan in growing alarm.

Trap, catching his meaning, said worriedly, "any time now."

Tristan barked at the stupefied Raye, "call everyone off the walls, now!" The boy ran from the room as fast as he could, shouting orders as he flew.

Pratt and Pallin barged into the kitchen, demanding to know what was going on. Tristan said, "we are about to be invaded, and you are to allow the invaders to enter without resistance. That is an order!" Pallin took one glance at Trap, nodding his understanding.

Pratt stared in disbelief, "who is this guy?"

"An old friend," smiled Tristan, "and we are apparently going to have a few more dropping by, I hope you set out extra places for dinner."

They all went into the courtyard and waited. The bewildered watchmen had pulled back from the walls, watching in dismay as several grappling hooks came up over the battlements and several dark figures were soon upon the walls. The confused invaders wondered why no alarm was raised and why the watchmen just stared at them glumly instead of resisting.

"Why do you just stand there and stare at me stupidly?" asked a confused voice, "What manner of place is this?"

"I have my orders sir," said the guard morosely.

"I see," said the voice, though from the tone he clearly did not.

"Put away your weapons," said Tristan, "no one will harm you."

"Under what authority do you give me orders?" asked the invader.

"As the current master of this castle and also as your Brother in arms," said Tristan, laughing in delight, "Turin, put that thing away before someone gets hurt!"

"Tristan?" said Turin, now more confused than ever, "What is going on here?"

"Tell your men to stand down and I will explain," said Tristan, "Pratt, you may order your men to resume their regular duties. These invaders are to be counted as guests." The confused man bowed and went about reordering his men, while Turin and his eight companions joined Tristan and Trap in the courtyard. They knew Trap had been captured but were overjoyed to see him safe and sound, they retreated to the kitchens where the servants found enough food and drink to satisfy the ravenous invaders.

"What exactly are you doing moldering in this rotten fortress like some spider in a cave?" asked Turin, once he and his men were settled.

"Trap mentioned you saw a shadowy figure come in through the front gate a week gone," smiled Tristan, "that was me."

Turin nearly choked on his bread, "what!?"

Tristan laughed, "we had a reliable source at the University who said one of the General's henchmen was expected here so I took his place and snuck in in his stead. My men were the group you saw coming in the back, we captured the fortress without spilling any blood, of course the General had ridden off before we got here and left nothing but mercenaries and servants to watch his property until he returns. I had hoped to capture any unwary messengers coming to speak with the General, but all I have managed to do is be invaded by my own comrades! By now I think even the most remote of the General's servants must know he has relocated to Panmycea and resumed his seat on the High Council of the Order of the Unicorn."

"Lovely," growled Turin, "but what are we to do now? You have already discovered that there is nothing useful here and any messengers of this General are unlikely to venture forth hereafter. We cannot indefinitely man this rock pile on the edge of forever, as it has no strategic value whatsoever except as a nice place to hide from one's enemies, yet I do not wish to abandon it for fear that one day it will again be held against us. The Lady ordered us to take it, believing that there might be something of value hidden inside. Word has reached us that any member of the Order that has trained in Astoria is to immediately resign his commission and all Knights of the Order who are studying at the University have been recalled. We fear there is a major shift coming in how the Order functions, especially if this evil General is being recalled to serve on its governing body."

"This is grave news indeed," said Tristan, "what of Karly? It was he who took the General's seat on the council after his flight and it was he who supported an alliance between the Order and the Brethren."

"I do not know," said Turin, with a grim shake of his head, "but I am sure the Lady will not abandon so faithful an ally."

"I do have an idea for this pile of rocks," said Tristan, changing the subject slightly, "why not donate it to the University?"

Turin looked at him as if he had lost his mind but said, "what?"

"There have been a few changes in the way the University operates," said Tristan, smiling at his friend's consternation as he briefly recounted his recent adventures in academia.

"When you put it that way, I see your point," said Turin enthusiastically.

As they sat talking, Pratt barged in and said, "sir, I fear we have an uninvited guest, another uninvited guest. He approaches the gate as we speak." Tristan exchanged curious glances with those gathered in the kitchen before they sprang into action.

### Chapter 15

Another lone horseman approached the gate at an ominous walk, eerily similar to previous events. "Who goes?" barked the guard at the gate.

"One who has come to see your master," hissed the horseman, "open up, you putrid swine, before you regret it."

"Yes, sir," whimpered the guard, as he opened the gates. The stranger walked his horse into the central courtyard and dismounted, a servant ran up immediately to take the man's reins.

"Where is your master?" hissed the man. The terrified servant pointed nervously towards the door into the kitchens, and the man strode importantly off.

The kitchen door banged open and the stranger entered the room, but he saw only Tristan, sitting with his booted feet upon the table in front of the fire, sharpening his sword. "May I help you?" asked he, looking up nonchalantly from his task.

The man quickly recovered from his surprise and snarled, "where is the General?"

"He is not here at the moment, can I take a message?" asked Tristan merrily.

"Where is he, you useless oaf?" growled the man.

Tristan shrugged and continued to hone his blade, "he has returned to Panmycea to resume his former post within the Order."

"Panmycea!" choked the man, "I do not have time for such a journey; you must send a messenger!"

"I will see if I can spare anyone," mused Tristan thoughtlessly, "I am sure we can get your message there within a month or two."

"A month or two?" snarled the man, "Have you any idea who you are trifling with?"

"Since you failed to introduce yourself," said Tristan, "I haven't the foggiest."

The man quivered with rage and said, "you will send this message tonight or I will have your head, I would have it on general principle but I am in a hurry!"

"I like my head where it is, thank you," said Tristan, "but when I am done with it, I am sure you can have it."

"Silence minion!" shouted the man, "Here is the message you will send to your master: take careful notes and seal the letter."

Tristan slowly put his sword away and took up pen and paper. The man shook with ill-contained rage as he waited for Tristan to ready himself. "I am ready," said Tristan ever so politely.

"Thank you so very much," snapped the man, "now start writing! 'Dear sir, a terrible tragedy has befallen our agents at the University and it is feared none are now alive to see that our plans are carried out. In this light, it is no surprise that the University has taken things in their own twisted direction and have fallen under the influence of the Brethren. They are very interested in teaching 'useful' things and other such nonsense. They have also recalled all of their students from their Journeys and will not allow anyone to go abroad who is not well versed in something of value to the common folk. Instead of sending students on a 'teaching journey,' they now encourage them to go out and expand their knowledge by studying under a master in a given field or by conducting a research project to further what is known about a particular subject. As can be guessed, this has had a disastrous effect on our efforts to inundate the populous with nonsense and gibberish. Without students blathering in their ears constantly, the people are slowly opening up to other sources of information, most distressingly the Brethren. I will go forth and try to salvage what I can, but await further orders. You will know how to contact me. Sincerely, Nevis.' End the letter. See that this is sent immediately to your master."

"As you wish," said Tristan gaily.

"This is no laughing matter," snarled the man, "your master will be very unhappy when he discovers how his steward runs things in his absence!" The man stormed out into the night and rode off into the darkness, nearly running down the startled gatekeeper.

Trap, Turin and the others crowded out of the larder where they had been hiding, it had been a rather crowded hiding place, but they had heard all the stranger had had to say. "What do you think?" asked Tristan of the others.

"I think we have nearly succeeded in driving the promulgators of confusion from the East," smiled Turin, "now what?"

"We had best inform the Lady," said Tristan. He lost no time in mounting up and riding for Astoria. While he could have sent someone else, he was growing weary with nothing to do all day but train students, so the journey was a welcome change. He also sent an update to Arora, along with a small group of the more learned in lore amongst the Brethren at the castle to reinforce her bare bones teaching staff. The rest would hold the castle, awaiting further instruction and under Pallin's command.

The stranger had drawn off the road heading west, just out of sight of the castle, hoping to verify that his message was indeed sent out that night. He was pleased to see a rider setting out soon after his departure, but there was still something about the scenario that he did not like. With nothing more pressing to do, no matter what he had told the fools within the castle, he followed the messenger just to make sure his message reached the appropriate destination. While he could try and salvage what little remained of their grand scheme, nothing could really save it, and if there was treachery in the works, the General must know of it.

The rider moved swiftly, almost to the point of recklessness, at this pace, he would kill his horse far before he reached Panmycea! This would never do, while Nevis appreciated the man's haste, if the messenger's horse succumbed to exhaustion, his letter would never reach the General. Besides, at such a pace his own horse would soon wear out. If the fool meant to be careless, there was only one thing for Nevis to do. He reached out with his mind and found the unthinking void that was his lurker's mind, and bade the creature follow as fast as it could. The beasts had little enough mind when not enslaved to the Brotherhood, once so bewitched, they had almost none at all. But they were not favored as mounts because of their wits: they could outrun and outlast any other creature that went about on legs save a unicorn.

Nevis's horse was showing signs of exhaustion when the creature finally caught up. He dismounted and left the worn animal to its own devices, it would have fled from the monster had it not been on the verge of collapse. How the messenger's horse could continue at such a pace was truly a mystery. Finally, the cursed man stopped for a rest, but he was on the road again far sooner than any sensible traveler ought to be. It was an exhausting chase and it soon became clear that the rider was heading northwest instead of angling south, as he should if he wished to reach Panmycea. There was treachery amongst the General's servants! Nevis had no choice but to follow the messenger to his final destination and try to discover his true allegiance.

A desperate thought nagged at the back of his mind though he did his best to drive it away. The further they went, the more insistent it became. He had given his report into the hands of the Brethren! It was the only way the man could possibly maintain such speed over such a distance; it was also the only civilized country on the road they were taking. Finally, after a relentless chase, they arrived at the destination Nevis's worst dreams had anticipated: the man rode directly into the castle in the middle of the bustling city of Astoria. The guards took one look at the man and let him pass, though Nevis could not ride into the city upon his beast without causing a panic, but if he continued on foot, the man would easily be out of reach before Nevis could stop him.

He had no choice, and perhaps he could learn something of the Brotherhood's greatest enemy while he was here. He put the monster into an enchanted sleep, hid it as best he could, and then headed towards the main gate into the city. As he approached the gate, one of the guards halted him, "what business have you in Astoria?"

Nevis put on his best oily smile and said, "I have traveled from the distant east on urgent business to your city."

"He tells the truth," whispered the other guard to his comrade.

The man whispered back, "I know, but there is something about him I do not like; he practically reeks of evil!" Just his luck, the guards had to be numbered among the Brethren. It was said they could sense the presence of one sworn to the Brotherhood and also discern a lie when spoken. He hoped that hearsay was wrong.

"What manner of business brings you hence?" asked the guard.

"A message I sent has gone astray and I have come to see that it does not reach the wrong ears," said Nevis.

"You tell the truth stranger, but I do not like the feel of you," said the guard, "I cannot let you pass until I have consulted my superiors on this matter."

For a moment Nevis thought to reach for his sword and force his way in, but both men were eyeing him suspiciously. He might take one of them down, but he would die in the process. He wisely chose to wait while the guard sent a servant running towards the keep.

Meanwhile, Tristan had reached the courtyard of the castle and dismounted, going immediately to the Lady. She was in an important meeting with some dignitary or other and could not see him at that moment so he sat outside the room and waited. At last, a very short man bowed himself out of the chamber. Tristan started as he looked upon the man, if he did not know better, he would swear it was one of the woodland folk from the Northern Wilds, but he doubted they would venture so far from their homes. A servant emerged from the room and beckoned Tristan to come in, forcing his thoughts back to the matter at hand. He bowed to the Lady and she nodded courteously.

"Why must you always come to me looking like a vagabond?" asked she lightly, "I know necessity makes bathing impractical, but it is nice to be greeted by visitors who do not smell like a sweaty horse. What news brings you so far so swiftly?"

He related his news and then gave her the letter dictated by Nevis. "It is good to know our plans in the east have finally begun to bear fruit," mused she, "I am glad we have captured the castle, even if it was in vain. It is troubling, but not surprising, to know that the Order is once again under the sway of evil, and this time voluntarily. Something must be done about them before they return to their previous ways or become even worse. Many of the Brethren within their ranks have ridden back after their untimely discharge from the Order's service; I am also expecting ex-Councilor Karly at any time, he was booted off the High Council and fled just ahead of the men sent to arrest him, our agents were of great help in his escape, but what will arise from this action I know not. I have also had disturbing news from the Northern Wilds: there are many strangers abroad and evil things are stirring. I fear war may be brewing, but I cannot point a finger at any specific enemy!

Where stealth and manipulation have failed, I think the enemy is finally going to move openly against us. We must be ready. I am alerting all of our agents in the field to keep their eyes and ears open, and have recalled many for redeployment to areas most likely to become troublesome. The Brethren have never ridden openly to war, but I fear there will be no stopping it if things continue to progress, but that is neither here nor there, my political musings can wait, you must be exhausted! I am glad to hear the University is finally coming around, and I will send some Teachers to assist Arora in her efforts there. I will recall the Brethren stationed at this castle of yours immediately, for I have need of them elsewhere, and I think your idea of handing it over to the University is best: I have no wish to waste resources defending such an inconvenient location, yet letting it fall back into enemy hands is out of the question. What a hassle over such a hopeless ruin!"

As she finished, there came a knock at the door and a servant popped his head in, saying, "my Lady, there is a questionable man at the city gates and the guards ask what to do about him. They say the man 'reeks of evil.'"

She turned to Tristan, "any idea who this might be?"

Smiled he thoughtfully, "I wonder if it is not the author of my letter. Taragon thought he caught some stench of one of the Brotherhood's lurkers a few times during our ride, but we never took the time to investigate. He may have followed us."

The Lady smiled eagerly, "send four of our best Warriors down to escort him to me. We will see what he wants." The servant looked at her in dismay but bowed and went to pass along her orders. Tristan looked at her in shock, what was she up to?

Four Warriors in full armor trooped down to the main gate, said their leader to the waiting Nevis, "the Lady of Astoria wishes to hear your case. If you wish, we will escort you to her but you must leave your weapons in the guard house."

Nevis nearly jumped with surprise, despite long years of practice in hiding such reactions. The Lady wanted to see him? He wondered what trickery she was up to, but it was an opportunity not to be missed. To the best of his knowledge, no one in the Brotherhood's history had ever gotten anywhere near the leader of the Brethren. He stripped himself of all his weapons save a dagger hidden in the top of his boot, but the guard asked if that was everything, and when he said it was, the guard glared at him dangerously until he removed the hidden knife and placed it with the rest of his gear. So much for ulterior motives! He entered the gates and the four guards formed up around him, escorting him through the city and into the castle proper. They brought him to a small room that was dark, save for the cheerful fire burning upon the hearth. Before the fireplace sat a table, upon which rested some familiar feet, which belonged to a man sharpening a familiar sword.

"You?" squawked the confused man, "I thought I was to see this Lady of yours."

"You will," said Tristan patiently, "but first I must let you know she greatly appreciated your letter. It was most thoughtful of you."

As this exchange took place, the curtains were drawn back and sunlight filled the room. Nevis turned from his annoying adversary and faced the legend he had come to see. An absolutely ancient, but still spritely, woman sat in a chair by the window, apparently uninterested in him or her insubordinate agent.

"You have sent a most informative letter young man," said she, "and I thank you for your pains, but I am sorry if it will cause any trouble on your part. I am sure your masters would not approve of you sending such a message to their enemies?"

Nevis spluttered in agitation, "I did not direct that letter here. That man brought it here against my will."

Tristan broke in, "you said to take it to my 'masters' and she would be my master, so I have simply done as instructed." The man fumed silently, there really was no way around such an argument.

"What do you want of me?" demanded Nevis.

"We demand nothing of you," said the Lady, "I wish only to offer you our protection should you find returning to your own masters too dangerous after such a gaffe."

"Your protection!" shouted the man, "What kind of an offer is that?"

"Simple," said the Lady, "I assume your life will be forfeit when it is discovered what has happened, hence I offer you my protection, of course you will have to revoke any oaths you have sworn to the Evil One." The man was nearly shaking with rage, the woman had the audacity to make demands of him that no sane person should even suggest in his presence!

"Am I your prisoner?" asked Nevis, trying in vain to remain calm.

"I have no knowledge of your wrongdoings, though I am sure they are many," said the Lady, "and I offered you something of an amnesty in allowing you into my presence. You are not my prisoner and may leave if you wish, though if any of my agents happens upon you in the future, this amnesty will hold no sway over their actions and I cannot promise that things will turn out well for you."

The Lady stood and made her way to the door, as she walked past him, Nevis seemed to flinch in pain or surprise. He had never felt such awe or reverence for anyone, even his own masters only inspired fear! Something in her presence demanded the respect she was due: here was true power, though none of her own doing. Tristan stood and bowed as the Lady passed by on her way to the door, before she left, she said, "you will be given a room where you may think on my words. If you have come to no decision by morning, you will be escorted from the city. Otherwise you may leave whenever you like prior to that. Goodnight." The door closed quietly behind her and he was left alone in the room with Tristan.

Nevis turned towards the annoying man, "what exactly is going on here?"

Tristan smiled and said, "the Lady has said exactly what she means. You have until dawn to revoke your oaths to your sinister masters and then you will be given her protection. Otherwise you will be asked to leave in the morning and left to face whatever fate will befall you." "

Why do you care what happens to me?" asked the man curiously, "I am your enemy."

Tristan smiled sadly, "true, you and I are currently on opposite sides of an ancient war that neither of us started, but you are still one of the Master's children, and therefore I am still concerned about your welfare, physical and otherwise. It was my doing that you are in this mess and it is only fair that we offer you a way out."

"If you care so much about me and my kind, why do you destroy us every chance you get?" asked the skeptical Nevis.

Tristan replied, "I would love the opportunity to give every one of your sinister brothers the chance we are giving you, but you know as well as I that there is little time for idle talk amongst warring factions. If your people would sit down for a peaceful chat, I would be happy to discuss these things with them, but as it is, we more often meet for battle than for negotiation. I fight to defend the innocent lives you seek to destroy. If you did not force my hand, I would not be so determined to kill in order to save my own and other lives."

"You really mean all this!" said Nevis, "I have much to think on. Lead me to my quarters." Tristan opened the door and nodded to one of the waiting guards, who joined him in escorting their guest to his quarters while the other three guards followed at a distance.

When they reached the man's room, Tristan said, "these gentlemen will be waiting outside your door to answer any of your questions or to escort you out of town if you wish to leave. I bid you goodnight." He left the confused Nevis in the care of the four Warriors.

Once he was alone, Nevis sat on the bed, deep in thought. This little errand had most definitely not turned out the way he had expected. These Brethren were completely different than he had been led to believe. They were his sworn enemies, yet for the most part they treated him with more respect than he received even amongst his own comrades. The Lady was quite impressive in and of herself, he had never seen such grace, power, and wisdom gathered all in one person! There was a peace and a power about her that he envied. There was none of the terror and greed that consumed his own masters and colleagues. Here, there seemed to be a determined sort of cooperation and companionability, whereas amongst the Brotherhood, there was a continual striving against one another. He almost envied them.

The darker side of life had always fascinated him, especially when he discovered that it could be used as a path to greater power and influence. He had always thought those who strove for the rights of the weak and oppressed were pathetic and feeble, but here he discovered that it took a special sort of strength to fight against your own desires and work for the good of others, no matter the cost to oneself. He was also amazed to learn that while he was an enemy to these people, he was still considered a valuable person even with all the evil he had done. It gave him much to think about, most of it quite unsettling to a mind such as his.

Sometime in the small hours of the morning, Nevis poked his head out the door and looked up into the eyes of his watchful sentries, "I wish to speak with the man who was here earlier." One of the four nodded, trotting off to fetch Tristan. Nevis smiled at the thought of rousing the man from his bed after such a long ride!

A bleary-eyed Tristan soon approached Nevis's chambers behind the returning sentry. "Yes?" yawned Tristan.

Nevis grinned, "I just had a few questions. Will you come in?" Tristan nodded and motioned for the guard to remain outside. He sat in a handy chair while Nevis took the bed.

"What can I do for you?" asked Tristan, now a bit more awake.

"I have been thinking much on this strange little association of yours," said Nevis, "but one thing still bothers me. What has come of the traitor to the Brotherhood known as Trap?"

Tristan eyed him skeptically, "why are you asking?"

"It is not widely known amongst ourselves what comes of a man who revokes his oaths," said Nevis, "I want to know what to expect should I decide to do likewise."

"Perhaps I am taking a risk, but consider it an exercise in trust," said Tristan, "Trap was captured in Arca some months ago after losing a fight with myself and another of the Brethren. He was on the verge of taking his own life when I questioned his fate after death. He laughed me to scorn, but something must have changed in his mind, for he did not allow himself to die as so many of your colleagues do. Over time he gradually came to the realization that nothing worthwhile could come of his relationship to your evil masters and he revoked his oaths. He was a broken and lost man after that, mostly because everything he had ever believed in life had been a lie.

Gradually he found some meaning and direction in life again. When he was well enough to travel, he was escorted to Astoria under guard and stood before the Lady on charges of murdering three of the Brethren, amongst other things. His life was justly forfeit the minute he surrendered to us and he knew it. He had found peace with himself and was willing to face the certain death he knew he deserved, but the Lady offered him a choice. His life was no longer his own and he could choose to end it immediately via a swift execution or he could dedicate it to something larger than himself and serve others thereby. He chose to dedicate his life to the Master's service and was thus spared from execution, but he may yet meet death as a result of his choices. You are under no such stricture. We will not execute you if you refuse to join us. All we ask is that you no longer serve evil."

Nevis stared at Tristan in disbelief, "you threatened Trap with death unless he took your Oath?"

Tristan shook his head, "the Oath is not something that can be forced! It was offered as an option, but it could not be taken unless it was something he truly wanted with all his heart."

"You have said enough," said Nevis, "I will continue to think upon this and you will have my answer in the morning." Tristan bid him goodnight and left the room. Nevis sat long in the darkness thinking over his past and his future.

Just after dawn there came a knock upon the door, Tristan peeked in before coming fully into the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. Nevis sat upon the bed with a grim smile upon his face, "I have come to a decision. While this has been a fascinating study in the ways of your people and my masters will be interested in knowing the fate of the traitor, I must tell you that I cannot take you up on your offer. I am not seeking sanctuary, nor do I regret joining the Brotherhood. My only regret is being so foolish as to entrust my message to you without enquiring further into happenings at the castle in the General's absence. I must go back and face whatever penalty my foolishness has earned. I have, however gained a new respect for the Brethren and perhaps someday we can meet, if not as friends, at least not as enemies. Perhaps we can come to a mutual understanding?"

Tristan shook his head, "there can be no 'mutual understanding' as long as you serve evil willingly. There is only right and wrong; there is no middle ground. There is only the Truth or chaos. Your decision saddens me, but it is yours to make and we will keep our word. These gentlemen will escort you to the border and you may go as you wish from there. I hope one day you will finally change your mind, but the decision is ever yours and I will hinder you no longer, farewell."

Nevis was soon escorted from the room and the city. As he crossed the border of that little country, he gazed back in wonder at the strange folk he had left behind and wondered again at what course his own future might take, he turned his lurker and rode hard for Panmycea.

The Lady and Tristan watched him go from an upper window. "I did not think he would take our offer," said the Lady sadly.

"Do you think it was wise allowing him to see and hear so much of our business, especially concerning Trap?" asked Tristan.

"I do not think any great harm will come of it and greatly hope that in the end, it may prove a fruitful endeavor," said the Lady. As they turned from the window, a large mounted party came riding out of the distant woods sheltering the road, the Lady immediately sent Tristan down to greet their visitors.

At the main gate of the city, the party was stopped by the guards, but Tristan dashed up, very much out of breath. It was as the Lady had thought: Karly had come at last.

Tristan bowed formally to Karly and his party, signaling for them to ride forward. As they wound their way through the crowded streets, Tristan easily kept apace of the horses, "it is good to see you sir," said Tristan, "I only wish it were under happier circumstances."

Karly looked down at his former officer, "perhaps it was a day that should have come sooner. I only wish the more honorable days of the Order had not been so short lived! I am not too saddened to be leaving, especially with the recent changes, but it is hard to change the course of one's life so abruptly, especially after so many years of dedicated service."

The Lady herself met the party as it rode into the courtyard of the castle. "Welcome Karly," said the Lady, "it is good to see you once more. My sympathies for your recent loss and close call!"

He bowed from his saddle and said, "if not for you and your men, I would have had no escape at all. I must speak with you directly." She motioned for him to accompany her, Tristan and Karly's escort following at a distance.

Once they reached the privacy of the Lady's favorite audience chamber, everyone found seats and Karly began, "it will be no surprise to you that General Vrill, a suspected member of the Brotherhood, has returned to Panmycea at the invitation of the High Council and has resumed his former post on said Council. All members of the Order who trained in Astoria or had amiable relations with the Brethren were summarily dismissed. Through this process, many of the more honorable men amongst us were removed from the Order, leaving only the troublemakers and men of more dubious character. This being said, the conditions were ripe for what happened next. Shortly before my expulsion from the Council, a measure was being discussed to change both the name and mission of the Order. After recent happenings, I do not doubt it will pass."

"What is it?" asked the Lady.

"The new name is to be The Legion of the Serpent," said Karly grimly, "and their mission is to conquer the known world for their new namesake. At first I thought it a joke, but as things progressed, I knew it was only a matter of time: war is coming my Lady, and I have come to offer what help I can. Many of the Order have already sworn allegiance to you, and once removed from their former posts, have found shelter amongst the Brethren, but there are those of us who are friendly towards Astoria but never swore your Oath and may never do so, but wish to fight this evil alongside you. I offer you the services of the Order in exile, we will fight the coming storm under your banner." The Lady was speechless for the first time in living memory.

Other Books by this Author:

The Serpent and the Unicorn: Book I and II

### The Serpent and the Unicorn: Book III

### The Serpent and the Unicorn: Book IV and V

### Once a Thief

### A Song of Lesser Days

### Thus It Began

### Legends of the Brethren: The Sampler

### Legends of the Brethren: The Complete Series

### In Shadow

### Of Tea... and Things

### The Greylands

### The Foibles

###  Over the Hills and Far Away

### Want to Know More?:

### Official Website

### Author's Blog

Book III Sample Chapters:

### Chapter 1

The wind blew cold off the sea, but the promise of Spring lingered in the salty air. Wrapped in her cloak against the damp and cold of early morning, Arora walked the battlements of the crumbling old castle on the verge of the Eastern Sea, occasionally a breaker crashed against the rocky cliffs upon which the forsaken castle perched like an ungainly bird. A sea bird cried above in a voice speaking of loneliness and vast distances. Arora knew how it must feel, somewhere far away, preparing for a war that might destroy everything she held dear, was her husband, whom she had not seen months. Her duties kept her confined to this miserable old castle or to the main campus of the University, a few days' ride to the west. As head of her department, she oversaw all the activities of the associate professors beneath her, since her department was by now the largest and their classes the most sought after, the whole thing had been moved to this hulking old ruin of a fortress. And so too had come a great many students, who stayed as long as they needed to complete the required classes to gain the now much sought after title of Scholar, and perhaps one day Professor.

There had been a time when the whole University had been a joke to everyone outside of it, but things were changing swiftly as it actually began to teach useful knowledge and hold its teachers and students responsible for their actions. Incredibly, it was becoming a respectable institution, unlike the Order of the Unicorn, which in recent months had changed its name to the Legion of the Serpent, and likewise its main purpose from upholding their own version of peace and justice to one of conquest in the name of evil. Arora knew the truth behind the change, even if most people did not. An insidious evil calling itself the Brotherhood of the Serpent was again influencing the former Order, but this time it was not content to be only an indirect influence but was boldly in overt control. Long had the Brotherhood operated in secret, trying to accomplish the purposes of the Evil One through human servants dedicated to him body and soul. Only recently had their existence become known to the Brethren, and since then their tactics had changed from secret manipulations and the spreading of chaos to plans for outright war and conquest.

War was coming, but this was just the latest skirmish in a far greater war that stretched back to the very beginnings of time, if not before, when the Master's greatest servant rebelled against Him and evil first arose. Once innocent of all evil, man soon followed in the Evil One's footsteps, forsaking the Master's laws and Truth to follow his own twisted path, thinking he could forge his own destiny. The Master interceded directly when men first chose evil over good, but ever afterwards it was up to His servants to defend the Truth and protect the vulnerable; they became known as the Brethren, the world's greatest defense against the powers of darkness. The Brotherhood of the Serpent was the Evil One's answer to the Brethren. The Order of the Unicorn, originally an independent military organization hoping for all the glory without any of the work or sacrifice, especially of their own desires and dreams and even their lives, for the greater good, had been overtaken by evil men and was now all but a military extension of the Brotherhood. Most of the honorable men within the Order had recently been driven out, some had joined the Brethren while many of the rest prepared for war as allies under the command of General Karly.

Not only were there evil tidings from the former Order, but there were other worrisome rumors afoot. Evil things were stirring again in the Northern Wilds and in the Western Mountains. Many were the sinister men seen crossing the Untamed Wilds on fell errands of their own. Everywhere unrest and rebellion seemed to be fomenting: once peaceful lands were now dealing with open revolt. The Lady of Astoria had agents in every country, city, and major village trying to prepare all free lands for the coming onslaught, but the local leaders were far too busy with their own problems to worry about a larger, vaguer danger. For the moment, the world lay hushed, as if on the brink of something vast and horrible that only time would reveal, but all knew it was coming, and soon. Arora ceased her pacing upon the walls and made her way down to the kitchens to find something warm to drink, wishing her heart could find solace as easily as her stomach.

Not too far away, in the Kingdom of Arca, Bristol paced the castle gardens in the gloom before sunrise. He felt uneasy, as he had rarely felt before, for something deep inside bade him be cautious this day. As he walked, a servant found him, summoning him to a small parlor. He entered the chamber and looked hopefully at the fire burning cheerfully upon the hearth, but his heart grew cold at the sight of the man with whom he shared the room.

The man gave him a haughty smile and said, "Captain Bristol, you are hereby relieved of duty as Advisor to the King of Arca for the Order of the Unicorn. You are also relieved of all rank, privileges, and rights within the Order, and the Order itself shall hereafter be known to you, and all others, as the Legion of the Serpent. I, Colonel Lyre, shall henceforth take over all of your previous duties and responsibilities. You will withdraw immediately from these premises, upon pain of death should you refuse." The man wore a triumphant smirk, having risen far since Bristol last saw him stripped of all rank within the Order and sent out with the new recruits on a training patrol. He now wore a black tunic with a fiery serpent emblazoned upon it. Bristol's own tunic of white bore a blue rearing unicorn, apparently the Order had changed uniforms as well as names.

Bristol stripped off his tunic and tossed it into the fire, before facing Lyre and saying, "I accept the fact that I am no longer a part of the Order or the Legion or whatever you prefer to call it, however I am still a member of the Brethren and the Lady's duly appointed representative to the King. I cannot abandon my post save by her order, and I believe the King would take it amiss if you murdered one of his advisors. However, if I must leave or die, I stand ready to defend myself, though I dare say it will be a poor beginning between you and the King should he discover the cause of my demise, and an even worse beginning for you should you fall by my blade instead."

Lyre eyed him skeptically, but finally submitted to his reasoning, "very well, it will be as it must, but do not get in my way. We are not officially enemies yet, but I think the day will soon dawn that sees you and your ilk become hunted men in all lands. May it come swiftly!" With that he stomped out of the room. Bristol stared at the closed door in astonishment and then went to find another shirt.

Tristan walked among the sparring pairs of men as they exchanged blows with practice swords, yelling advice or a warning to the various students as he saw things that needed improvement. Occasionally, a muffled thump and exclamation of pain reminded the recipient to improve his blocking technique. Finally, he called a stop to the exercise and, after a few parting remarks, sent his pupils off to find their noon meal. He felt a pair of eyes upon himself, looking up, he saw the Lady standing at a window, she motioned for him to attend her, he bowed slightly and hastened off, finding her in a sunny room overlooking the courtyard wherein his students had been practicing. He bowed as he entered the room, taking the seat she indicated. She smiled fondly at him, they had had many such meetings over the course of the century in which he had been in her service.

"I know you grow weary of training students in the arts of war," said she knowingly, "so I am sending you out once again on yet another vital mission." Tristan perked up at the mention of another mission, he did not mind training students, but his true calling was in performing the often strange and sometimes impossible tasks the Lady set him. She continued, "as you know, there have been radical changes within the former Order, and the Brotherhood has also become much more overt in its enmity. You have also no doubt heard the rumors of localized rebellions and the stirring of evil things in wild places. We all feel that war is brewing and evil seems to be festering everywhere, but no one knows anything for certain. My agents are scattered across the whole face of the world, but communication is intermittent at best and nonexistent at worst.

There are also various peoples and creatures from whom we have not heard in some time. I need to know what is happening and where, thus I am sending you out into the coming storm to discover, from our agents and allies, what is happening across the width and breadth of the world, and also to ascertain where each country, city-state, and every major village stands as far as sending help should impending war necessitate it." Tristan nodded, understanding his mission but wondering how he alone was to accomplish such a monumental task before it was too late. The Lady, seeming to read his thoughts, laughed wryly, "easy my friend, you are not the only one I am sending forth, while I appreciate your skills and courage, I am not so unwise as to think you could handle this task alone! Several of my best servants are riding forth to discover what I need to know. You must travel quickly, yet must be thorough in your observations. May the Master ride with you." He stood, bowed in farewell, and went to prepare for his journey.

From long experience, he knew exactly what he needed for such a journey and was quickly packed and ready to go. His assigned route included parts of the Northern Wilds, the Eastern Realms, and the small country of Vespera, all of which he had visited within the last few years and was well-acquainted with many of the people and creatures with whom he would be dealing. As he returned to the courtyard, saddlebags slung over his shoulder, he met Trap in the corridor.

"Heading off into deadly peril?" joked Trap.

"As usual," smiled Tristan, "the Lady is sending me out to learn exactly what is going on in the wide world."

"Me too," said Trap, "I am off as soon as I can get my things packed, but I see that you are ahead of me, as usual!"

Tristan laughed and clapped the other man on the back in a fond farewell, hardly believing that less than a year ago Trap had been an important member of the Brotherhood, but was now a respected member of the Brethren. In the courtyard stood a shaggy sorrel gelding, a far cry from the great unicorn stallion that Tristan knew lurked beneath the benign visage. Each member of the Brethren had a close relationship with a unicorn, though the unicorns often draped themselves in the guise of normal horses to hide their identities. Tristan smiled at Taragon's well-chosen disguise: no one would look twice at a road-weary traveler on such a plain beast. Taragon whickered in greeting and followed Tristan to the stable, where he dug his much worn tack out of storage and went about the familiar ritual of putting it on his mount. After Tristan was mounted, Taragon frisked and bucked a bit, eager to be on the road once more. He wearied of the sedentary life of the last few months as much as his master. Soon they were off again to adventures unknown.

Their road first took them north into the Wilds to discover what the People of the Wood and Nargath the dragon knew of happenings in those unclaimed lands. Tristan saw few travelers upon the road as they drew ever further from civilization, and those he did meet were the kind that did not stop to exchange idle chatter with a stranger, which was as well, for they had no time for small talk, but at least their journey was accomplished swiftly, as a unicorn is the swiftest of all creatures that go on four legs, they can maintain speeds over great distances that would soon exhaust a horse.

At last they reached the far-flung inn at which Tristan and Arora had once met a strange man who had introduced them to the Forest People. The Hidden People stood much shorter than a normal man, living secret lives in the depths of the forest, protected from unfriendly eyes by an inborn skill for illusion and a talent for redirecting unwary strangers. The curious little folk were very fond of music and Arora's musical skills had earned them a rare invitation to visit the well-hidden village. Tristan hoped finding them again would not be impossible, for they knew this part of the Wilds better than anyone, and their input was vital for the completion of Tristan's mission.

Tristan left Taragon to the care of the stable boy and entered the inn, glancing around at the gathered patrons, smiling to recognize their previous informant. He ordered two mugs of ale and sat down across from the man, pushing the second mug towards him. The man looked at him curiously but gratefully accepted the drink. "You probably do not remember me," said Tristan, "but I once traveled with a rather remarkable songstress whom you wished to introduce to some extraordinary friends of yours. I am in desperate need of their aid; is it possible to renew our acquaintance?"

The man narrowed his eyes and stared at Tristan, recognition suddenly seemed to dawn in his eyes. "It may be possible," whispered the man, fingering his scruffy beard, "of what sort of aid are we speaking and why? And where is that pretty little songstress?"

Tristan smiled, "you do well to be cautious in these uneasy times. The lady of whom you speak is far to the south on other business. I was sent by a certain Lady who begs any tidings they might have of strange or evil happenings within their borders in these ever darkening days, mention the Lady and they will know of whom I speak, for they have sent her at least one emissary in recent months."

The man nodded grimly, "I will relay your message but it is their choice as to whether or not they will meet with you."

"Fair enough," said Tristan, "I shall remain here and await their answer."

The shaggy man finished his drink then scuttled out in search of his mysterious friends, returning a few hours later, "they remember you well and send greetings to you and your noble mount. They will gladly meet with you, though why they care about your horse, I cannot imagine?" But as Tristan remained silent, only smiling mysteriously, the man sighed in disappointment before continuing, "please follow me."

Together they walked out into the darkness, stopping long enough to collect Taragon from the stable before vanishing into the forest with his strange guide. They walked silently for almost an hour, the going was slow because there was no moon to light their way and neither dared light a torch or lantern for fear of unwanted eyes. At last they came to a huge, dead oak tree and beneath it stood a small, wary man. He bowed in greeting and exchanged thanks with the local man, who then slipped off into the night. The short man motioned for Tristan to follow, and for another hour they plunged boldly into the murky depths of that pathless wood, until they came at last to the silent village, high among the boughs of great and ancient trees.

Tristan removed Taragon's tack and let him wander at will amongst the ancient boles. The little man waited patiently at the base of a great tree, from whose branches hung a rope ladder leading up to an arboreal cottage high among its branches. They ascended the ladder and drew it up behind them, now inaccessible to enemies on the ground. They entered the snug little house and drew up chairs before the small fire.

"Welcome tall one," said the old man, "I wish you had brought your lady with you, for I long for a cheerful song, but things are as they are so I will content myself with conversation. You have journeyed far, and I hope not in vain. As you know, we are a watchful but quiet people, we do not go willingly beyond the borders of our land, but we know all that goes on within our bounds. What exactly do you wish to know?"

Tristan said, "I have been sent by the Lady of Astoria to beg your help. The world grows uneasy and restless: evil seems to stir everywhere. Myself and several others are traveling to many lands and visiting with many peoples in hopes of gathering what information we can on the state of things within each country and also to know what help each land is willing to send should things grow dire indeed."

The little man was silent for a moment, then began, "as for help, we will fight evil that enters or threatens our borders, but little use are we away from our forest home. We will assist as we can, but we will not send men to die vainly in war. We are not a warrior folk, but we will defend our lives and homes if pressed. We would be underfoot and in the way, among larger and more seasoned soldiers, in any battle we tried to fight. As far as information, I know only what our scouts have seen. On your last visit here, you pursued one of the evil men who occasionally make the strange journey afoot into the swamps beyond the forest in pursuit of the vile Lurkers that roam those forsaken lands. Of late, there seem to be many more journeys by such men, sometimes several men a month are seen making the passage, though not long ago it was only a few men in a year's time. The scouts also bring tidings of nameless and evil creatures roaming farther south than is usually their wont. Evil seems to stir on all our borders and even within."

They talked long into the night about such things before retiring to bed and sleeping late. Tristan awoke to a glorious breakfast of all the wild bounties the woods could provide. He and his host talked again for much of the day, this time of topics less vital and dark. The man seemed to enjoy news of the outside world and philosophical musings almost as much as he had Arora's music. As late afternoon approached, Tristan felt the need to be on his way and said, "I thank you very much for your hospitality and also for your information. I know you are a quiet folk wishing only to live peacefully in your own way, but I fear a conflict is coming that may consume the whole world, leaving none to live in peace. The Lady asks only that you stand ready to do what you can. Her thanks and gratitude I also impart." The little man bowed to Tristan, and Tristan returned it in kind. He bid his host a fond farewell and left in search of Nargath the dragon.

### Chapter 2

Several later, Tristan approached the familiar cave in which Nargath laired, but an unfamiliar and hostile head protruded from the maw of the dragon's lair. A small, black dragon, obviously enraged, stared at the interlopers, smoke curled from his nostrils. "Be gone," said the dragon in a defensive voice.

"I have come seeking Nargath," said Tristan.

"He is not here! Be gone!" snapped the young dragon desperately, "I want no part of you, dragon-hunter!"

"Dragon hunter?" Tristan nearly laughed, "Who in their right mind goes hunting dragons with nothing but a sword, a dagger, and a bow? I have no lance. Nor do I seek draconian blood. I have come for counsel."

"Counsel?" asked the confused dragon, "What kind of a request is that to make of a dragon?"

Tristan did laugh, "who better to ask for counsel than one who has lived for years beyond count, to whom a century is but a day and man's faintest histories are living memory? I have sought Nargath's wisdom before and I shall seek it again unless life fails me. Is he not here?"

"He has gone hunting and should return presently," said the young dragon, apparently mollified.

"May I ask what a young black dragon is doing in the cave of an ancient green dragon?" asked Tristan, "I have never heard that it was ever draconian custom to share a lair with another dragon."

"It is not," said the youngster, "so where better to hide?"

"Hide?" asked Tristan, "What has a dragon to fear?"

The dragon looked nervously about, as if the very trees could hear, and said, "I am afraid of humans, most especially Knights and other such dragon killers."

"But why would Nargath hide you in his cave?" asked Tristan, "And why would you want to be closer to civilized lands as you are here than perhaps you would be farther north?"

"I have agreed to provide Nargath with certain information, and in exchange, he will shelter me from dragon hunters," confided the dragon.

"What kind of information would he seek from one younger than himself?" asked Tristan.

Again, the dragon glanced around nervously and said, "some of my kindred are planning to take lands long held by men and for some reason Nargath finds this fascinating."

"Why are you not excited about some sort of draconian revolt or at least indifferent?" asked Tristan.

"Are you joking!?" said the terrified young dragon, "If my kin tread the path to war, soon men will be heading into the Wilds to do away with any of my kind they can find. While a dragon of Nargath's age may not have much to fear from a man, a dragon my age is a prime target! I am not yet big enough and my scales are not strong enough to repel such an attack. My elders would go to war and I would sit at home and wait for the Knights to line up to destroy me!"

Tristan looked hopefully at the young dragon and said, "it is just such information that I am seeking. It would be much better to speak directly to the source, than to ask Nargath to ask you. Would you be willing to speak with me on such matters? I would happily tell all the dragon hunters of my acquaintance that you are not willingly involved in such plots."

"You would!" said the young dragon, "I would happily share such information as I have with you if you would do as you say."

"It is a deal then," said Tristan, trying hard not to smile lest he insult his eager young informant, "what do you know of these plots amongst your elders?"

"Well," said the youngster, "about a year or three ago the largest and oldest amongst us, The Black Dragon, began calling all of my kind to himself and discussing his 'plans' for the future. He says that humans are holding territory that has traditionally belonged to us and we should take it back by force. Most of us are happy with our current holdings and have no interest in looking further for either property or treasure, but he seemed obsessed with the idea, so much so that several of the younger dragons are catching his fervor and beginning to speak as he does. I fear they may do something stupid and rekindle the enmity between our species that has thankfully settled into a stagnant stalemate over the millennia. Thus I am hiding in Nargath's cave, lest I be found by an overzealous hunter."

"Are you still in contact with these other dragons?" asked Tristan.

"Oh yes," shuddered the dragon, "if I did not show up at certain meetings I would be suspected of treachery or cowardice, both of which are fatal mistakes among my people."

"Any idea when they may strike or where?" asked Tristan.

"I have no idea," said the dragon, "everything is still in the formative stages, but perhaps within a year or two, if they are hasty."

Tristan smiled grimly at the dragon's definition of haste, "why the sudden change in the attitude of The Black Dragon after so many eons of relative indifference to men?"

Again he looked around nervously before answering, "it is whispered among some of my closer friends that...though it cannot be true...but...they say that he has not been himself for the last few years and it is thought that he did something impossible, or at least unthinkable. They think he may have given himself completely over to evil!"

"But I thought black dragons delighted in evil?" asked Tristan in confusion.

"They certainly delight in maliciousness and cruelty," said the youngster, "but they do not usually give their souls completely over to the Evil One as some men are wont to do."

"You seem a bit more reasonable than I thought your kin were inclined to be," said Tristan.

The dragon seemed to preen, as if he had received a great compliment, "thank you, I am actually a half breed and am less than fond of my father's side of the family, but my mother is green. Though as dragons see things, I must be black because my scales are; I have a sister who is green with a black's mind, it drives her mad to be treated as a scholar when she wants to be vicious. I would rather be a scholar but am assumed to be a monster by temperament. Yet another reason I was happy to meet Nargath: he sees past my scales and has taught me much, of course he would teach a sheep if it was a willing pupil."

"Fascinating," was all Tristan could say to such draconian scandal and intrigue.

A deafening roar and a great rush of wind forced Tristan to dismount and seek shelter behind Taragon. Nargath landed nearby, dropped two dead goats on the ground, and faced his visitors, "drat," said the dragon, "do I know you?"

Tristan laughed at the dragon's inability to differentiate between individual humans, "yes, but I think you remember my wife's music better than you ever remember me."

"Of course!" said the dragon, reminiscing fondly of Arora's music.

"What brings you way out here?" said the dragon, "And your wife is not with you is she?"

Tristan smiled, "no she is not, I seem to get that a lot lately. The Lady has sent me to see if you know anything of the evil rumors we are hearing. Your young friend has been most helpful, however."

"Helpful?" scoffed Nargath, "If you like him that much take him home with you, he is nothing but a nuisance!"

Tristan smiled, though the tone was gruff there was an undercurrent of fondness in the old dragon's voice. "He has informed me of the plot among some of the black dragons," continued Tristan, "what can you tell me of the stirring of evil creatures or strange men in the Wilds?"

The old dragon sat on his haunches and scratched at his head thoughtfully, "there are definitely an inordinate number of strangers abroad in the Wilds lately. There seems to be a sense of unease or restlessness among the darker members of the local flora and fauna as well, I think something big is coming."

"Such is the Lady's fear," sighed Tristan, "she is sending agents out into all lands and to all known rulers and peoples asking for information and aid. Any chance you can help on the draconian side of things should the unthinkable happen?"

"Hmmm," said the older dragon, "dragon fighting dragon for the sake of men? It is unthinkable, but I can promise to try and influence some of these young hotheads away from their foolishness, but the old Black Dragon you must deal with yourselves."

Tristan bowed his head in acknowledgement, "the Lady sends her thanks for anything you can do."

"I will also volunteer this young pest to fly to Astoria with any fresh gossip or hearsay that comes our way," said Nargath, "at least you can know when the old brute is going to strike."

"Thank you again for all of your counsel and assistance," said Tristan. They spent the remainder of the day in conversation on many things, none of which dealt with war or waking evil. Nargath was a music lover, but if he could not have music he still relished good conversation, he especially enjoyed Tristan's tale of the University and its students. Morning came far too quickly, but Tristan felt he must again be about his journey. Nargath and the young dragon wished him well and sent greetings to Arora and the Lady.

As he rode off, the younger said to the elder, "if only all men were like him."

"Ah," sighed the elder, "and more dragons too."

Once more heading southeast, Tristan planned to stop in Astoria long enough to relay his information to the Lady before moving on to Syre and the other countries of the Eastern Realms. One night, as he camped in the borderlands between Astoria and the Wilds of the North, a strange man sat down beside his small fire. "Can I help you?" asked Tristan cautiously, his hand resting on his sword.

"Perhaps you can," said the stranger, "I could not help but see your fire and had to come over and see what sort of people were here."

"There is only myself," said Tristan.

The other man smiled, "good, then you will not be minding if I help myself to anything I take a fancy to. I would take my hand off my weapon if I wear you." He glanced significantly over his shoulder and Tristan finally noticed a man with a drawn bow hiding in the darkness.

Slowly he moved his hand away from his sword and crossed his arms, "I have nothing of value."

"We will see," said the smiling man. He ransacked the camp and a little too happily searched Tristan's pockets and belt pouch, but he came up with nothing of interest, save a few odd coins.

"How disappointing," said the stranger, "but perhaps not a complete loss. You do have a horse, and lucky for you, since it may just save your life."

"Why kill me?" asked Tristan.

"Why not?" asked the laughing man, "But I will trade you your life for your horse. That way we can make a trade and you cannot say I have robbed you. If I took nothing, then you would not feel indebted to me and might tell a magistrate or other authority, but if I take your horse you will owe me your life and therefore will not tell anyone." The curious logic completely escaped Tristan, and the man with the bow looked equally confused.

The scoundrel found Taragon's harness and tried to put it on but the unicorn resisted. Tristan, fearing this might get them both killed, bade Targon cooperate. Taragon laid his ears flat, but allowed himself to be tacked up and led away, he glanced over his shoulder questioningly but Tristan only shook his head. As long as the men did not try to put a rider on Taragon's back, things would be well. A unicorn would rarely carry anyone but his master, and then only if his master bid him do so at the last end of need. Tristan doused his fire and crept off into the darkness, lest the bandits return and change their minds. It was a long, sleepless night but the cold grey of morning finally crept through the trees.

Tristan could feel Taragon to the west, no more than a mile off. From the impressions he received from the creature, it seemed the bandits were stirring and breaking camp. One intrepid thief was intent on taking their newly captured horse for a spin, though Taragon gave ample signs that he was not happy with the situation, the would-be rider ignored him completely. He flung himself into the saddle and shortly found himself once again earthbound. The man picked himself up, dusted himself off, and repeated the spectacle, not once but four times before deciding enough was enough. Grabbing a willow switch, he meant to teach the ill-tempered beast a lesson, but Taragon struck out with hooves and teeth and would not allow the man anywhere near him.

"He has gone mad!" shouted the man to his laughing colleagues.

"Naw," said one of his fellows, "you just ain't a horseman." They all broke into laughter, except the insulted man, who quivered with rage.

"I will show you what for," snarled the man. Violence would have erupted at that point had not half a dozen mounted men ridden into the clearing and surrounded the distracted bandits.

"You are under arrest," said the leader of the group.

"By whose authority?" snarled the lead bandit.

"The Lady of Astoria," said the man.

"She has no jurisdiction here!" snapped the bandit, "Neither does anyone else."

"The Lady has authority wherever men break the Common Law and traipse upon the rights of others," said the man patiently, "if you had broken such laws in civilized lands, I would turn you over to the governing authority, but here in the wilderness you must face the justice I will mete out."

"What have you to charge me with?" scoffed the bandit.

The mounted man said, "I have half a dozen complaints from a variety of individuals about your thievery. Thankfully no one has accused you of worse, though I begin to wonder where you found that horse." He looked at Taragon curiously, he had watched the little debacle between man and beast from a distance and wondered if this was actually a horse at all. His own mount let him know that it was not and told him the identity of the strange unicorn. Fear gnawed at the back of the man's mind, but he chased it away, for no unicorn would allow such treatment had his master been slain. Tristan must have allowed Taragon to be captured for him to remain so calm. As if on cue, Tristan came out of the woods lugging his saddlebags over his shoulder.

Taragon whickered a greeting and nuzzled his delinquent master. Tristan secured his saddlebags in their proper place before mounting, "I see you have found a few friends of mine Turin," laughed he.

"Yes," said the other man, smiling to see his friend alive and well, "they had found themselves a rather disagreeable new horse. I am glad for your sake and theirs that no worse came of it."

"Me too," smiled Tristan ruefully, "what brings you out here?"

"The Lady has us riding patrol in the empty lands between Astoria and the Northern Wilds," replied Turin, "bandits such as these are becoming very bold indeed. Some have ranged even into Astoria itself." Tristan gasped, nothing like that had happened in his lifetime.

"Things must be growing dangerous indeed," said Tristan in surprise, "I was careless with my fire last night, I had no idea things were quite this bad, especially so close to Astoria! I will be more careful hereafter."

"I hope so," nodded Turin, "as I cannot rescue you from bandits whenever the fancy strikes you to be careless."

"I must be on my way," said Tristan, "these men have cost me enough time." He exchanged farewells with his friend and rode on towards Astoria with all speed and delivered his news immediately to the Lady.

Said she, "it is as I feared, but at least our fears are starting to flesh out and take on some semblance of reality rather than remaining wild fancies."

"Are there truly bandits raiding into Astoria?" asked Tristan.

The Lady smiled grimly, "there have been a few incidents within our farthest borders, but things are not yet that desperate. I still keep chaos and anarchy at bay and travelers go safely within our bounds." Tristan grinned ruefully at her mild reproach. "But," continued the Lady, "as you are here and are in need of protection from such bandits, I will provide it." Tristan looked at her in confusion as she clapped her hands, a servant appeared, summoning someone from behind a closed door.

"Geff?" asked Tristan in astonishment.

"Yes," said the Lady, "he has recently taken his Oath and is in need of a mentor. You are in need of caution and another pair of eyes." Tristan bowed in acknowledgment, though an apprentice was not what he had hoped to leave Astoria with! "You shall leave within the hour for Syre," said the Lady. Tristan bowed again and ushered his awestruck apprentice out of her presence.

Once they were in the hall, Tristan said to Geff, "when did you get here?"

The boy laughed, "shortly after Arora's trial at the University. I spent several months here and then went back to the University, it did not take me long to decide where true wisdom was to be found! I came swiftly back here and have been buried in classes and books while you have been drilling students in the art of war."

"Oh!" said Tristan, a bit embarrassed that he had somehow missed noticing the young man during their months together in the same castle, "if you are so interested in books and philosophy, why does the Lady have you chasing after me?"

The boy smiled, "I have an interest in knowledge, but also in the wider world. She is sending me with you because I aspire to be a master of not only knowledge but also of the sword."

"You want to be a Messenger?" asked Tristan in astonishment.

"Of course," grinned the boy, "I would grow weary if I only taught or fought, but I want to do both and more!" Tristan nodded knowingly, his was the smallest sect of the Brethren, but also the most versatile in function. He never had a dull assignment, well almost never, but he had never thought Geff the man to undertake such a venture!

"We had best saddle up," said Tristan, "are you packed?"

The boy nodded, and as they entered the courtyard, a strange unicorn stood beside Taragon, fully saddled and ready to go. It seemed everyone but himself knew what was going on! Silently they mounted and headed towards Dara, the capital city of Syre. Geff was by now an excellent horseman, though when Tristan had first known him he hardly knew one end of a horse from the other, though he thought himself an expert on the subject. They traveled swiftly, but when they stopped for the night, Tristan sparred with Geff with and without swords, perfecting his defensive techniques, and as they rode, they often talked upon a variety of subjects. Overall, Tristan was highly impressed with the youth, a far cry from the clueless boy of his first acquaintance. It was nice to have someone to talk to, to help keep watch, and otherwise make the journey east seem to pass the swifter. Soon enough, they reached Dara and applied to the King.

During their travels, Tristan wanted to keep their identity as members of the Brethren a secret, if possible, but as they waited patiently at the gate to the palace for the guard to return with the King's answer, he began to doubt the feasibility of such an aspiration. Said the guard apathetically, "his Majesty the King will see you in due course, though it may take some weeks before an opportune time arises."

Tristan said urgently, "my Mistress bids me haste on my errand, which is of the utmost importance to her and also to the King and his people."

"Who should I say sent you?" asked the bored guard.

"Tell his Highness that a very noble Lady sends him greetings," said Tristan cryptically.

The guard raised his eyebrows skeptically, not understanding, but Tristan hoped the King would, if the man would apply once more to his master, but he only said, mechanically, "his Majesty shall see you in due course." This was getting him nowhere, he could not wait 'weeks' to see the King!

Tristan tried another tack, "may I inquire after the presence of Berg among the King's Advisors?"

The guard said, "he is still numbered among the men who claim to advise the King, shall I send him your noble lady's greetings as well?"

"If you would be so kind," agreed Tristan. The man walked off slowly, wondering if this too would be a fool's errand, leaving Tristan and Geff to stare at the emotionless faces of the guards blocking their way. What seemed like hours later, the guard returned with an anxious Berg in tow. Tristan had not seen him in years, but he remembered the cheerful man well.

He glanced at Tristan and Geff and then turned to the guard, saying, "he is an old friend of mine, you may admit him under my authority."

The guard said warningly to Berg, "if I do that, any trouble he makes will fall on your head."

"I understand," said the overly patient Berg, "let them in."

The guards parted and they led their mounts into the courtyard, where they were quickly whisked away by servants. They were silent as Berg led them deep into the castle and brought them to an absolutely tiny room, "this is my grand sleeping chamber," said the jubilant Berg, Tristan smiled brightly at the man's attempt at humor.

"I am sorry to disturb you," said Tristan, "but the Lady has sent us in haste and I cannot wait 'weeks' to see the King."

Berg smiled, "you are never a burden! Any command of the Lady's is as much an order to me as to you. You were also wise not to wait 'weeks,' as it may have turned out to be years! The King is not very good at keeping appointments, especially for unimportant strangers. I have a private audience with him tomorrow and you are welcome to accompany me. What does the Lady wish to know?"

Tristan told Berg of his errand, he nodded grimly in reply, "the rumors are true then? I feared as much. We hear rumors of bandits on the borders and monsters in the darkest woods, but we are far removed from such evils here in the palace. The King is not what one would call proactive in the area of defense, a problem must be right on top of him before he worries about it, and sometimes not even then! He prefers to let things work themselves out. How he maintains order in a country as large as Syre I do not know, though I think it is mainly because it is such a prosperous country that the people have little to be restless about."

"What of the University?" asked Tristan.

Berg sighed, "ah yes, the University! It has improved dramatically in the last few months, but still teaches much nonsense. They have even moved one of the larger departments out to some dreary castle on the coast, or so I have been told."

Tristan smiled wryly, recalling what a headache the institution had been before its recent changes. "Which department?" asked he.

Berg replied, "the only worthwhile one of course, think they moved it out into the middle of nowhere to discourage would-be students from learning something useful, though I think it only makes the prospect more exciting. From what I hear they are seeing a record number of students. I have even heard rumors that the Lady has actually sent some of the Brethren to teach there!"

Tristan smiled, "my wife is one of them."

"I had heard a rumor of such a thing as well," laughed Berg in delight.

Tristan smiled wryly, the Brethren seldom married and when they did, were only permitted to marry a fellow member of the Brethren, therefore, a marriage within the Brethren was always exciting news. He introduced Geff and said he had been a former student at the University. Berg raised his eyebrows but congratulated the boy on his decision to join the Brethren, before they talked of many thing, until it was time for the evening meal; they quickly cleaned up and went in search of dinner. Geff, who had never attended a court function, was amazed by the grandeur that attended something so mundane as supper: people were dressed in very fancy clothes, there were servants everywhere, and the food seemed extravagant for such an ordinary affair. They ate their meal in relative silence, as no one seemed very interested in a minor advisor and his guests, though one guest particularly caught Tristan's eye: a man in a black uniform emblazoned with a fiery serpent.

"Who is that?" asked Tristan surreptitiously of Berg.

The Advisor replied, "he is a nasty piece of work, he is called Merton and is the representative of the Legion to the King. I much preferred his predecessor when it was still the Order, but he has been dismissed because he spent a few months in Astoria. I hear it is the same in all the lands between the Eastern and Western seas. I miss the days when such men were simply pompous windbags, this one must bathe in anger and drink frustration like wine; he has no patience and little sense, a dangerous combination. He has already informed me that should the Legion declare it, he will happily be my enemy."

Tristan smiled grimly, "lovely." Geff blanched in concern.

As if smelling Geff's fear, Merton deigned to join them, "hello traitor," said Merton conversationally to Berg, "I see you have finally found yourself some friends, or should I say fellow conspirators? I know your kind and I do not like them. You will do well to shorten your stay and disappear entirely. Do not trifle with me or the King!" Tristan bowed politely. The man seemed to take it as an affront and returned to his place, occasionally glaring suspiciously at the three men.

Dinner concluded with no one else taking an interest in the plainly dressed men, though Berg was a little more formal in his uniform. The courtiers gathered to share gossip and intrigues, but the three Brethren retired to Berg's chambers for some much needed rest. They awoke early the next morning, apparently the King kept very strange hours, Berg sometimes met with him before dawn! At least today their meeting was set for after sunrise though still before breakfast. They tidied up as best they could in the tiny chamber before proceeding to the designated meeting room. The King sat before a large table laden with all manner of delicacies, they stood and watched him eat while they made their appeals.

"Your Majesty," said Berg, "may I introduce Tristan and Geff? Emissaries from the Lady of Astoria, sent in all haste to seek your counsel."

"My counsel?" laughed the King, "What can an old dotard like me tell men of your learning?"

Tristan bowed and said, "Sire, the Lady sends her greetings and also asks your counsel. All across the known world evil is stirring and rumors are flying. The Lady is desperate to know what is truth and what is fancy. What do you know of evil happenings within your borders and what help will you send at the uttermost end of need?"

The King yawned expansively and said, "I know little enough of what happens in my own keep, what can I tell you of things that go bump in the night? You would be better served to speak with one of my generals about such matters. As for aid, he could answer that question as well, I seek only peace and amusement, it is he that keeps this kingdom running smoothly."

"Sire," said Tristan, "you may leave the day to day functioning of your kingdom in the hands of your generals, but if the world seems ready to plunge into irredeemable darkness, it is up to you to give the order to send your men to fight in the last desperate battle, else peace and amusement will cease for all, small and great alike. What is your answer, Sire?"

The King looked serious for a moment before replying, "you speak of an inevitable battle! What if such never comes?"

"Your Majesty," persisted Tristan, "our people have died trying to keep darkness from overwhelming all we hold dear, and it is my dearest prayer that such a desperate day never comes, but if it does, we must know if you will be there to stand beside us or if we fight alone?"

He spoke with such fervent hope that the King could not help but be moved and said, "should that day come, my armies shall be there to fight the falling night!" Tristan bowed, unable to find words to do honor to such a gallant sentiment; Berg had never seen the King in such a noble mood. They bowed themselves out and went in search of a general.

General Kern was presumably busy in his rooms when the three men were ushered in by a servant, but he gladly welcomed the distraction from his normal routine. He was surprised at Tristan's request but happy to be of service. Here was a far more attentive audience than ever the King had been. He verified that yes, there had been an increase in the number of bandits about the countryside, that some of the more distant villages were trying to secede from the Kingdom, and there had even been rumors of monsters roaming in civilized territory. He was very supportive of the King's proclamation of aiding the war effort, should evil threaten to overtake the world, assuring he would send word to all of his colleagues and underlings to stand ready. Overall, it was a very encouraging meeting, except for the news of more evil tidings, but in nowise unexpected.

As the three walked to the dining hall in search of the midday meal, they encountered Merton once more, "I hope you are behaving yourselves, though I would dearly love to find a reason to haul you off to Panmycea to face true justice!"

"The Legion had best mind its own business," said Berg, "and I doubt such a thing as justice exists within Panmycea in these dark days."

The man snarled at them and stormed out of the hall, leaving them to a silent and grim meal. After they ate, Tristan said they must be off, for he must stop by the University and its other campus before heading into Arca. Berg bid them farewell, and though unhappy to be left alone with Merton, perhaps with his guests gone, Merton would not be so apt to seek him out for unpleasant conversations. Merton watched from an upper window as the strangers rode off, wondering what their visit portended, strangely eager to find out.

### 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, rather 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.

Tristan grinned eagerly, "she will not be happy when she finds you have barred my way!"

"Why should I believe you?" asked the man, a little uneasily.

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

"Why should she be anxious to see you?" asked the baffled man, "And what right have you to disturb her rest on such a night?"

"She is my wife," replied Tristan simply.

"I am sure she is," laughed the man, "in your dreams and mine!"

The conversation had caught the attention of a man standing further inside the courtyard, "what is all this noise?" asked he, approaching the gate.

"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 discover you have left her husband standing out in the rain!" said the other man. The gate opened, allowing Tristan and Geff to squeeze 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," agreed 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," nodded the boy, "I see Geff is still alive, though not free of your influence," all three exchanging hearty grins in remembrance of former days.

"Please lead the way," said Tristan, as 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 rather arms eager from months of separation. She nearly wept with joy as she returned her husband's zealous greeting, but at last she recovered herself enough to ask her guests to come in. She greeted Geff warmly, though Raye awkwardly 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 at least I get to 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 aware of several villages and outlying lords that are thinking about revolting against the King, and it grows perilous to travel, for fear of bandits upon the road. It is truly a dangerous time and it seems 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 swords." Tristan smiled wanly at her forced mirth, but much appreciating her bold heart.

"Geff," said Arora kindly, "will you 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 but much 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 cheered her heart. He smiled brightly in farewell and they rode for Arca.

Upon their road, they occasionally glimpsed 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. Happily they arrived in Arca, the capital city of the country of the same name, without incident. Tristan hoped Bristol was still about the palace, though 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, who soon appeared, 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!" rejoiced Bristol, "It has been a difficult time to serve in such a place, Lyre has taken over my position with the Order, and 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 he resume his former glory after such a dismal failure, I am glad I am no longer in their service."

"It still cannot be easy," agreed 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 nodded, "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, and 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, but 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 however."

Tristan nodded glumly in reply. But business done, they switched to more enjoyable topics until it was time for the evening meal. They acquired seats in the back of the banquet hall and were studiously ignored for most of the meal. Tristan kept a close eye out for Lyre, but it seemed he was busy elsewhere, but as they were returning 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 in shock.

"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?" snarled Lyre, "They are an authority, and as such, 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 or the laws of an established Kingdom,veven then I must face justice under the laws of the land in which I committed said crime. You will not take me." The sound of rasping metal was loud in the corridor as Lyre drew his sword, only to find three blades to his one, as all three Brethren bared their blades.

Several guards rushed upon the scene before things escalated to bloodshed, "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 force the matter."

"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 peculiar 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, intrigued that two of his advisors and a couple of strangers would behave in such a way, providing some much needed excitement to the otherwise 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 most 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, now calling itself the Legion of the Serpent, I am no longer a part of such a vile group and rejoice in my freedom therefrom, for 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 declare me an enemy of the state, spare these two, for 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, for 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 hissed, "let it be so witnessed! I hereby challenge this coward to a duel to the death." Tristan, not surprised by such a move, hesitated for if he won, the Legion might use it as an excuse to declare war on the Brethren and 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 and Lyre might try something sneaky.

Tristan replied grimly, "let it be duly noted that I will accept this challenge, but 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, 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 sadly as he looked at the bloodthirsty crowd but took his place in the circle, an official was drawn from the crowd as the pair faced each other.

Lyre smiled like a cat eyeing a cornered mouse; Tristan just 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, but Tristan easily held him at bay. Frustration welled up in Lyre as he fought as hard as he could but could never get a single blow past Tristan's defenses. Lyre kept up the onslaught, soon growing weary, as he was not in top fighting trim. Tristan was hardly breaking a sweat, but 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 boasted, no one could rival him, but he was far from his fond imaginings and soon enough lay on the floor, 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 necessary blow, Tristan wiped his blade and returned it to its sheath.

Lyre stared in disbelief and then wailed, "you must finish it! 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 shook his head sadly, "then you must seek it elsewhere."

The man seemed to go mad with frustration, picking up his discarded sword and rushing at Tristan's turned back. Tristan turned but had no time to draw his blade. He saw his own death written in Lyre's enraged 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, before sitting down upon the floor and weeping. Tristan was almost as wide-eyed as his apprentice, but gently raised the boy 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 quietly retreated to Bristol's quarters.

"It is never easy to kill a man," said Tristan, 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 initial shock and the terror of recent events.

Eventually a servant came and summoned them to the King, as hey bowed formally upon entering his presence, he asked, "what has brought you hither and spawned such strange events?"

"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 in thanks. The audience was at an end. They made their farewell courtesies and left the King's presence, in search of his generals. His commanding officers had been greatly impressed by Tristan's skill with a blade and were equally enthusiastic 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 bordered 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 wherein the Leader resided. As the two scruffy strangers rode into the small hamlet on their shaggy horses, much curiosity was aroused amongst the villagers, for 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 must either 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 with even less foundation!

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. Said the innkeeper with a wry smile, "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, but 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 nodded, "it is much the same elsewhere: rumors of monsters, bandits, and revolts abound, the very air seems to stir with evil and unrest. 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 back the darkness, 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, said he 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, said he simply, "my son."

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 in the making. A bonfire was lit upon the green, villagers put on their best clothes, copious amounts of food were 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 grinned, "you may be a great warrior and scholar, but it will take far more than that to understand women, but I will not protect you from them!" 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, but the evening passed most pleasantly even so and was a welcome diversion from the rigors of travel. 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, making it 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, as he told them the same things they had heard 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, as 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, Geff looked ready to explode in anticipation of the story, and 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, as she 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 than 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, who 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," snarled 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 grimly. 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," sneered 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, who 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 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.

~Nursery Rhyme~

### Sophie Under the Hill

Her choice of domicile was peculiar, at least to sensibilities distant in time or space, but for all I know it was a rather common phenomenon in that particular place and time, but even if it were not, it suited her and to her mind that was all that mattered, which was as it should be. For you see, she dwelt under a hill and had for as long as local memory could remember, which might as well have been for all eternity as far as most folk were concerned. So it was that this curious old woman, who was apparently never young, acquired a reputation far and wide for not only being rather mysterious, which is what living in any fashion not considered ordinary will gain you, but also for possessing great wisdom, which is the result of living sensibly and being content therein rather than living as your neighbors think you ought and depending solely upon their opinions for your happiness. So it was that her neighbors held her in great awe and even a little fear, at least if an outsider asked them, but amongst themselves they often whispered darkly about the dear lady, with no little of malice and jealously festering beneath their bitter words. For you see, she minded her neighbors not in the least in any matter, preferring to do solely as it pleased her and seeming to thrive thereby which vexed them greatly, for no one should succeed without their input. It was witchery of the vilest sort.

Such an enigmatic and sagacious person held a certain attraction for adventurous youths and questing knights which was not hindered in the least by darker rumors, for who else could offer desperately needed wisdom and advice as such were often seeking? These frequent and unwelcome visitors, at least as the neighbors saw it, only caused further scandal and disquiet in the community, which continued to heighten the dame's infamy and only drew sooth seekers from even more distant climes. These visits drove the neighbors to distraction but the aged lady welcomed each and every visitor as if he were a lost son come home after many years abroad. Though in truth she was neither a worker of terrible magics nor a possessor of knowledge arcane and grim, but what she did have was something far outside the common ken of mortals, and blessed were those who sought her wisdom and received it with a willing heart. She did not whisper in secret with the shades of ancient sages or count her years more numerous than the usual wont of men. So how was it that this near mystical lady came to be a font of wisdom of which the bold and adventurous, the rich and the powerful, oft came to drink?

She was possessed of a great deal of what is wrongly called commonsense, for though quite sensible it is far from common, and thus did many come to visit with the curious lady who dwelt quaintly under hill. She lived quietly, prudently, and contentedly for many a year, much to the annoyance of her neighbors, who could not comprehend such a life and the enjoyment thereof, yet in their self-inflicted misery thought themselves the happier by far but did not understand the source of their own consternation.

So what great advice or sagacious snippets did she give this vast and curious throng that sought her out over the years? What could a woman who lived under a hill in a far flung district know of the world at large or people in particular? This is what all such visitors often asked themselves, but then they had to remember that often what they most sought was to be found in rather strange places, so contented themselves with imbibing a draught of wisdom from this uncanny font. One such adventurer, a peasant lad of the age when he should be finding something useful to do with his life, one day appeared at her door. He knocked boldly, she opened the door with a small, quiet smile that might have been concealing a knowing laugh, and ushered the awkward boy into the cheerful main room of the infamous cottage under hill. His awkwardness vanished as he took the offered chair, munched upon a cookie, and sipped the fresh brewed tea, feeling as if he were sitting at table with his own dear granny. That spritely smile deepened, as if she knew his thoughts, which was very likely as she was rumored to be all knowing, and she asked if she might refill his tea.

He nodded and then began his tale, as she poured, "I need a direction in life, that is why I am come. But of course you knew that already. So what shall I do? My parents wish me to apprentice with the cobbler and marry a nice girl once I have established myself. I want to go adventuring and become a man of wealth and renown, and likely marry a princess, or at least a noble's daughter. What must I do to make my dreams come true?"

Said she with the selfsame smile, "what are these dreams for which you reach?"

The boy stared at her blankly, completely lost as to an answer, his mouth half full of cookie. After a moment he shut his mouth, chewed thoughtfully, swallowed slowly, and said in perplexity, "what are my dreams? They are dreams, aspirations, ideals! What else?"

She laughed like a spring rain, "that is all mist and moonbeams lad! Nothing onto which you can hope to gain a hold nor a proper hook on which to hang a life. You need something concrete, something real, something for which to aim. Can you go hunting with such aspirations and hope to come home successful? Nay lad, you must have a target to shoot at or your arrows will be loosed for naught. What is it you want out of life? Where do you want to be ten or twenty years from now?"

The boy gaped at her again, this time with nothing in his mouth, and suddenly shut his hanging jaw with an audible click. He frowned in thought and was silent for an interminable time before finally saying, "I want to be like my father: a prosperous and respected man in the village with a loving, happy family." He smiled broadly, "your fame is not unearned my lady!" He stood and bowed formally, if awkwardly for lack of practice, "your wisdom gives me hope and direction I would not otherwise have had! Thank you, dear lady!" He nearly skipped out the door and turned his steps towards home, wishing he could start his apprenticeship that very moment.

She watched him go, shaking her head in amusement and that impish smile of delight now sparkling in her eyes. She had long ago given up trying to explain to such guests that they often already possessed the so-called wisdom they sought and merely needed to clarify their own thoughts on the matter in question. Time and again had they given her credit for vast depths of wisdom that she did not necessarily possess. She shook her head ruefully and was about to close the door when her nearest neighbor slipped in at the last moment uninvited, eyeing the remaining cookies and cold tea with interest. Said she without preamble, "more mysterious visitors, hmmm? Care to say more?"

The lady of the house stood by the half open door, as if waiting for her uninvited guest to take the hint and leave, but the invader just stood there waiting for an explanation and fresh tea. The good dame continued to stand there in silence and her neighbor's consternation grew by the moment, finally she turned on her heel and in a flutter of skirts and apron, the nosy woman retreated to gossip with her cronies about the abominable manners and the sinister dealings she was no doubt having with all these strangers as she was unwilling to discuss the matter with her nearest and dearest. The old woman's smile now held an ironic twist, knowing exactly what tale her exasperated neighbor was even now carrying to the rest of the village. She laughed outright and went to put the tea things in order.

Excerpt from 'The Greylands: Volume VI:'

### Beyond the Morning:

The historians and astronomers and geologists will tell you that the world revolves around the sun and that the earth is round, but my dear child, they are all of them wrong. Yes, quite wrong, utterly and completely. Men once thought the world flat and that the sun revolved around the earth, and I think, perhaps men were wiser in those days. Of course, this is a fairy tale so I might be mistaken, but at least in this particular world this happened to be the case. In the beginning of things this world had been quite like all the others, but men did not like the way things were so they rebelled against Him who made the worlds and quite made a mess of things. So it was that the world literally fell to pieces, leaving it flat with little bits like islands floating to the East and a shadowy chunk lurking beneath, where nasty things lived and breathed and had their being.

Mountains ringed the whole world about, keeping the water and most of the inhabitants inside, save for one small gap where the Great Sea found an outlet and fell in a great waterfall into fathomless depths below. But the sun boiled the water every night as it passed beneath this strange world and it fell again as rain very early every morning. Thus the Sea was fresh water (and not salt as you might think) and the world never suffered drought nor a rainy day that might ruin all the picnics. So in general, it was a rather prosperous and happy world. Except of course for that minor problem of man's rebellion against his Maker. Besides for that minor glitch, it was quite a wonderful place to call home and an especially good place to have a picnic.

But what was to come of that little matter mentioned above which brought sorrow, death, illness, and violence upon a once joyous and peaceful world? Well, things certainly could not remain as they were, for the Master loved his creatures far too much to leave them in such a miserable story so He came Himself to set things aright. To think that He who made everything would leave unimaginable Glory to spend time amongst the very things He created, naughty as they were. At first, they were quite happy to listen to His stories and benefit from His miracles, but they grew tired of His preaching and jealous of His power, so they did the only reasonable thing and killed the One who invented Life.

Only you cannot kill Him, at least not forever (no matter what the skeptics tell you) and He lived again, but in dying He conquered Death and since the price of rebellion and sin is death, He just happened to pay for all the mistakes and bad deeds of His poor, sundered creatures. The only problem was, most of them were not interested in such a silly thing as redemption, thank you very much! They were quite happy with life the way it was and really could care less about such wondrous Love. They wanted to mind their own business and wanted Him to mind His, of course not realizing that their wellbeing was His business. So it was, that He went back to His place and left the world to do as it pleased, at least until that exciting day when He promised to return and stay forever and ever with his Creatures that really wanted to be with Him; the rest could spend all of eternity in a place where He would never bother them again and they could do very much as they pleased, which they would soon come to realize was not very much fun at all.

The centuries passed and men multiplied and filled the whole earth, and with more people came the obvious problems of greed, war, strife, jealousy, and rage with the strong oppressing the weak, not to mention an increase in littering and other such crimes. Certain countries were better or worse than others in matters of justice and peace, as is always true of the lands of men. In this particular time and place, it was a rather peaceful and prosperous country that was more just than many lands in the history of this world. Its neighbors too were relatively peaceful which allowed them all to dwell for a time in quiet harmony. In the specific neighborhood where this story begins, there were a number of rather rich and influential families with any number of well-bred and educated offspring, all ready to make their way in the wide world.

There were three boys who were quite good friends and had been since the dawn of time, or at least for as long as they could remember. There was nothing that could ever come between them, save perhaps those insurmountable forces of love and death, for taxes as we currently know them had not yet been invented. One of these young men was quite sick and on the verge of that dreadful enemy of mortality, or at least of childhood, yes, romantic love. He was quite sure he wanted to marry the most beautiful (and rich) girl in the neighborhood, and while his friends were quite happy for his good fortune, they really did not wish to see their little trio broken up. While our love-stricken Kyan was off romancing his ladylove, our two remaining heroes, Bayard and Griffin, fell in with an old man who told the most wonderful stories.

He told them of things long ago and things yet to come, of a Great King who had left his Eternal Throne to dwell among mortal men. Of the Great Enemy who had left the service of this King long before the worlds were made, and his intent to corrupt or destroy all that his former Master had wrought, including mankind. They were intrigued by these tales, especially when told that even Today, men must decide on whose side they would live and fight, for it was a war older than Time and none could stand aside or plead ignorance. They must either stand with the King or fall with the Enemy. Quite excited by this prospect, the youths dashed back to find the missing member of their little company who was just bidding farewell to his darling, both with stars in their eyes.

"I must soon propose," said he, as if in a dream.

"Yes, yes," said Bayard impatiently, "all in good time, but come, there is something you must hear!"

Smiling dreamily, Kyan did not resist his friends as they led him back to the interesting man who had so excited their young hearts. The man smiled upon the love-stricken youth, remembering his own days of courting, back when the world was new. Finally, the young man roused from his rosy visions enough to listen to those things the man had to tell. A thrill of excitement ran down his spine, for here was a purpose and a calling indeed!

To tell the truth, the boys and most of their cohort were bored. They had every material pleasure their hearts could desire but it was not enough. Kyan thought himself in love, but mostly he just liked being liked and had no comprehension of the true meaning of the word Love. They had no purpose, no direction, no meaning. What was the point of living? But here was an explanation for why the world was as it was and a challenge to live a life of significance. Said the man in caution, "remember lads, the Master demands your whole heart and being, your very souls! There are those that oppose Him bitterly and you might well pay for your devotion with your lives. If you still wish to pursue this calling, come tonight when we shall all gather in one place."

The boys exchanged an excited smile as he told them when and where to gather, so too did the dark figure smile as he listened intently from his hiding place, but his grin held only eager malice, there was no joy in the gesture at all. The boys dashed off to further discuss these exciting revelations while the old man continued on his way. The dark figure went in search of reinforcements, for he wanted this to be a memorable evening indeed.

Just because they had a secret meeting scheduled for later in the evening, did not mean the three lads could miss the biggest ball of the season. They dandied themselves up to perfection and looked forward to resuming their eager conversation in some quiet corner of the great house that hosted this evening's festivities. But their mothers and the assorted ladies their own age expected them to dance unceasingly for the first part of the evening. Having accomplished their social obligations, Bayard and Griffin managed to slip quietly away but Kyan found himself unable to disentangle himself from Suzanne, who though very attractive this evening, no longer dazzled his mind into pure and utter worship. He tried time and again to join his friends, but the girl was persistent and would not loose her hold on his sleeve. Finally he said, "Suzanne you must let me go! I cannot remain here any longer, for there is a needful thing I must do this evening."

She pouted quite alluringly, "I had hoped you meant to propose this night."

He swallowed hard, what had he been thinking to be so enamored with this girl? This would not be easy, but it must be done, he said as gently as he could, "I have come to realize I cannot marry you my dear..."

He trailed off as she shrieked, "what!?!" at the top of her lungs and froze the dancers in their steps. Kyan blushed scarlet, but did not lose this chance to escape the clutches of his lovely and furious companion.

His friends laughed merrily at Kyan's predicament, but eagerly hastened to the secret meeting arranged by the old man. In the depths of the woods they met, with a glorious sky full of stars looking on and the trees standing in silent vigil about them. The embarrassed trio was the last to arrive and the old man said amusedly, "I was afraid you would not make it."

"Now," said he to the dozen young men that had answered his call, "you are probably all wondering why we are here?" There were several murmurs of excitement as the man continued, "I invited you here tonight to learn more about those things that I hinted at in our previous conversations. You are those who seemed most eager for this mysterious calling. It is in no way required that you go any deeper into this matter if all you wish is to serve our Master in your daily lives, this you can accomplish quite easily in your day to day living by following those precepts I have already imparted to you. This meeting is solely for those who wish to know more of this ancient war and your potential role in it. If you commit to this venture, your lives are no longer your own. You will agree to dedicate them solely, and wholly for the use of our Master and whatever task he appoints each of you. There are those who oppose us with every fiber of their being and every power they possess; they will stop at nothing to thwart our Master's will. This quest will claim your lives, whether it be tonight or a hundred years from now, I cannot say but you must know this before we continue. If there are any here who wish to leave at this point, by all means, get you gone."

There was some embarrassed shifting but no one moved. The man smiled grimly, "then if you are serious in this endeavor, I hereby swear you all to utter secrecy. What you are about to hear is known to very few who still walk this mortal earth. You know of the ancient war between the Master and His once great servant who has become His greatest Enemy. This Enemy does not sleep, nor is he willing to let mortal men live in peace. There are men abroad who have sold their souls into slavery to this dark lord, some even have entered a living death and have become terrible creatures that do naught but his will. What I ask of you this night is to join the ranks of those who oppose these vile men and their undead comrades, that your kith and kin might dwell obliviously in peace."

The three latecomers exchanged wide-eyed looks of wonder, excitement coursed through their veins. The old man continued long into the night, making sure his listeners fully understood what it was they were about to undertake. Finally he finished and asked, "are there any who now would stand aside?" No one moved. "Very well," said he gravely, "come forth one by one and swear yourselves to this service." And so they came forward, each stating his intention to fully abide by all the old man had said, and then taking a long draught of water out of an ancient flagon. "Now," he said, once the last had come forth. "you are each sealed to this cause. Your duties and service will vary, but in the days to come you will each know what is asked of you. Let us disperse before our enemies find us, go back to your homes, and await eagerly your Calling."

The moon had risen and was well overhead by this time, giving plenty of light to the sojourners as they talked eagerly amongst themselves and started to slowly drift away toward their respective homes. All chaos suddenly broke loose amidst the scattered company as nameless creatures howled, wailed, and shrieked in the night, even as arrows and swords, claws and teeth struck wildly into the now panicked gathering. "Run!" shouted the old man, and then everything was terror and frenzy amongst the once eager initiates. Bayard screamed as something viciously sunk its claws into his back, but his two friends each grabbed one of his hands and drew him along in their flight. They found their horses still tied where they had left them, but mad with fright. They disentangled the panicky beasts, who needed no further urging to run. They galloped madly off into the night, heedless of holes or branches that might suddenly end their mad flight, only knowing that worse was behind than any danger that might lurk ahead.

They almost thought themselves away, when a fiendish howl behind them fed fresh fire into their horses' panic and the fear coursing through their own hearts. They prayed desperately to the Master they barely knew for salvation and wondered at the strange fate that would rob them of their lives the very night they decided to make something of them. Griffin's horse screamed, as only a mortally wounded equine can, and went crashing to the earth with his master upon his back, crying, "ride, ride! My horse has broken his leg. Don't stop, it will be the death of us all..."

Bayard and Kyan exchanged a terrified look, wanting to stop their mad flight and aid their friend, but his cries were already lost as whatever was pursuing them fell upon their fallen friend. All they could do was ride on in horror and grief. They galloped on until morning, having heard no sign of pursuit since poor Griffin had fallen behind. The rosy shades of dawn revealed the Great Sea shining crimson before them as their poor beasts collapsed on the beach in exhaustion. A little boat lay upon the shore and beckoned to both of the exhausted boys; they exchanged a tired smile and quickly climbed into the little craft and put out to Sea. They soon caught the current that carried them swiftly east towards the sunrise and the end of the world. They collapsed into an exhausted sleep as the day brightened and the little boat floated gaily along, caught in the strong eastbound current.

The sun had set and both boys roused in the cool of the evening as the first bright stars appeared in the darkening sky. Bayard moaned in agony, for his entire being felt afire with fever from the deep scratches he had received from some fierce beast on the night that seemed more nightmare than terrible reality. Kyan said quietly, "why are we at Sea?"

Bayard smiled weakly, "it felt like the right thing to do at the time."

Kyan thought back to that surreal morning and nodded, "I know of a certain that it was the right thing to do, but where are we going?"

Bayard shrugged and winced with the effort, "at least we left those fiends far behind."

Kyan implored, "but what lies ahead of us? We have no food, you are wounded, this current will bear us right off the edge of the map!"

Sample story from 'Legends of the Brethren:'

### Of Poets and Heroes

The screams of horses and men filled the evening air with a chaos and horror ill-suited to the loveliness and quiet of the fading day. Two of the beasts faded away as they fell dead and the third trapped his master beneath his prone form. The trapped rider was himself uninjured save perhaps in the fall but several arrows had embedded themselves in his two companions and their fallen mounts; of the two, one lay unmoving and was likely dead, the other moved feebly but hope dawned as he caught the trapped man's eye. They stared at one another for a moment, the one with growing hope and the other with a rising fear. The crunch of oncoming feet suddenly drew their attention as their foes approached. His eyes pleading for help, the arrow stricken man suddenly threw some small object into the distant brush and glanced significantly from the now hidden object to his trapped companion whose eyes held reluctance and fear, but a minimal nod of his head brought the shadow of a smile to the stricken man's face before their enemies were upon them. A small band of vile looking men emerged from their ambush and looked about in delight at the carnage they had wrought. One of them turned over the unmoving man to reveal that nothing remained but a corpse.

Another approached the hopeful man and called out, "this one's alive and should suit our purposes well enough. Be done with him." One of the more vile of the company smiled in cruel anticipation, drew his sword as he approached, and finished that which the arrows had begun. His eyes widened momentarily in pain and then stared blankly as the sword was withdrawn from his unmoving chest. The whole group of them then approached the sole survivor yet trapped beneath his dead horse.

Said the leader of the repulsive band, "are you one of the Brethren then?"

The trapped man laughed mirthlessly, "I am simply an ill-fated poet who hoped to write the tale of some great heroic effort but alas, all I shall ever write is a lament to the foolishness of heroic quests if ever I write anything again."

"Yes or no," snarled the leader.

The poet winced at his tone and said, "I am not one of that fellowship."

The man grinned cruelly and asked, "then why do you ride with them?"

Taking on a professional air the poet said, "as I have already related I hoped to write a firsthand account of whatever adventure my late companions hoped to accomplish. I fell in with them not quite a week ago."

"You know nothing of their mission?" queried the leader in some amazement.

The poet sighed, "I only knew they were bound for Kyra on some desperate quest; I do not think even they knew their appointed task but hoped to find some contact upon our arrival."

The sinister man said, "how were they to make contact?"

The poet shrugged, "they took that secret to the grave."

The leader did not seem pleased, "then I have no further use for you." The poet nodded grimly as the sword was raised again but the leader suddenly laughed, "I however like the idea of a lament against all for which the Brethren stand. I will spare your life poet but only for the promise of your work. Write well, for if you do not it might well be the last thing you do. Search them and their luggage, then we ride for Kyra." The despots ransacked the living and the dead, but found nothing of interest. They vanished as quickly as they had come, leaving the trapped poet to somehow extract himself from beneath the dead horse. He painfully managed to pull himself from beneath his ill-fated mount, searched the vegetation concealing whatever it was his companion had hoped to hide, and finally discovered a small blue crystal cut in the shape of a star suspended from a satin ribbon of deepest blue. He looked over the trinket and wondered to whom it might belong and how he was to discover its keeper and his destiny.

He sighed, he was no hero. He sat heavily down upon the dead horse thinking about what had transpired in the last week to so utterly upset the course of his life. He had been a wandering poet who roamed from place to place and entertained as he could to keep his stomach full and a roof over his head. The commonfolk seemed to appreciate his efforts, at least enough that he did not starve. A week gone, the two adventurers had stumbled into the same inn where he was holding forth with his familiar evening oratory. They had listened appreciatively and once the night's entertainment was finished, invited him over to their table for a mug of ale and some much needed conversation. They had struck up a lively conversation, all three being of a quick and learned mind, and had stayed up long past the time all sensible men were in bed. He had asked after their own travels and their tales amused and amazed him. Whether it was the late hour or the wine, the poet never knew but he soon found himself asking if he might not accompany them on their adventure. They exchanged a curious look and finally agreed that he could come, but that there might come a time when they might suddenly have to part company. There was some hint of imminent danger and intrigue, but then no story was complete without such so the poet readily agreed.

So it was that he found himself riding with them to the Southern Realms towards the kingdom of Kyra whose monarchy was suddenly in disarray and from whence had come a desperate note and the trinket that he now held in his hand. No one knew who had sent it, but only that it must be presented to the guards at the castle gates in the great city of Yorka. The owner claimed that the very fate of the country might rest upon this quest and help was needed soon. Kipril shuddered, wondering what strange adventure he had now become a participant in. He looked upon his dead companions and his silent promise to the dying man echoed in his mind. He had ever been an observer of life, a recorder of its wonders and perils, never a participant and now it had been thrust upon him. He was ill-suited to such an adventure not having wielded a sword since his youth and then only poorly, but there was no one else to whom this adventure could fall. He must at least attempt it, if only for the sake of the imperiled people of Kyra. He sighed heavily, stood, and began to salvage what he could from the wreckage. He filled his saddlebags with food and supplies, took up his bow, and then glanced at his fallen companion's sword. He was perhaps not as skilled with the weapon as some, but it might be useful in his quest. Almost reverently, he took up the weapon for which his companion had no more mortal use. In the gathering dark, he took the road and hoped to put many miles between himself and the sorrow behind him.

Kipril awoke early and crawled from the small dell in which he had taken shelter for the night. He walked as fast and as far as he could that day, knowing full well that his quest was a hopeless one unless he soon acquired some swifter form of transportation. Evening was falling and the lights of an inn ahead drew his weary gaze. He felt that hope waited within, even if it were nothing more than an hour's repose from the weary and lonely road he walked. He took a seat, ordered a mug of a nameless brew, and glanced about at his fellow patrons. He saw nothing but farmers and merchants until his eyes fell upon a young woman just entering the inn. She was well dressed and moved like a cat, making him wonder if she were not some minor noble's daughter set out in search of adventure. Perhaps here was a chance to fob this foolish quest off upon someone else. She caught his gaze and curiosity drew her to the stranger's table. He bought her a mug of his own nameless ale and she asked, "whither is your road sir and what quest lays at its end?"

He laughed in spite of himself and said, "it seems I am not the only lonely adventurer upon the road. I am currently walking to Kyra as my mount and companions have fallen upon the way but I shall not make it in time at the pace I currently set. What of you fair lady?"

She smiled at his words and said, "I too am upon a noble quest though perhaps one far less dire. I ride for fabled Astoria and seek there to join the Brethren. Are you perhaps one of those storied knights who has ridden forth in noble pursuit?"

Kipril could not help but laugh, "lady, I am simply a wandering poet that has had unwanted adventure thrust upon him for there is none else to carry on the task which my late companions had begun. They were of that noble calling but alas they have fallen by the way."

She smiled curiously and said, "then at least your quest is a vital one and perhaps your heart nobler than you know. Perhaps I can aid those I hope to be my benefactors ere I ride to their country. If walking is too slow a pace, then let me lend you a horse upon the way."

Kipril smiled gratefully and said, "that would be a great ease to my journey but I am still unworthy of this task. I have a borrowed sword but little skill with it. Could I beg your aid as well for I see you are not yourself unarmed?"

She smiled gaily at him and said, "I was afraid you would turn me away for I am a woman, but I shall joyfully aid your task. What is it we must do?"

Kipril laughed, "I know almost as little as you but I shall gladly accept your company. I have only a token to show at the gates of the castle and there our adventure may perhaps begin."

Alia soon told her story of how her father, a minor noble, had given her the choice of a loveless marriage or taking her small inheritance and forever leaving his presence. She would not doom herself to such a grim fate and thus took her pittance and left behind all that she knew and loved. She had heard many strange tales of the Brethren in her youth and set out in search of the mysterious adventurers of song and story. She was eager to take part in a story of her own, even before ever she reached Astoria.

By common agreement they were saddled and upon the road ere the sun was up and it was not many days before their hurried pace brought them within the borders of Kyra and soon to the castle in the midst of the bustling city of Yorka. Kipril left Alia at an inn in the city that he might approach the gates alone. If he should not return, she was to make her own careful inquiries and if he discovered the nature of their adventure, he would swiftly return to tell the tale. Both knew well the cost of this errand might well be their lives, but Kipril pressed on out of duty and Alia in hopes of righting some wrong. The streets of Yorka were abuzz with the recent demise of the King in a hunting accident, the ascension of his brother to the throne, and the impending birth of the late King's child and hoped for heir. What part the dark men would play in the matter was yet to be seen. Kipril approached the castle gates and proffered the charm to the guards posted there. They eyed the trinket with some curiosity but could not decide if the man was trying to sell it or simply asking after its owner.

A servant stationed nearby however gasped and said, "this man must immediately accompany me." The guards glanced in wonder at the man who had silently stood watch for so many days and now finally spoke. They nodded grudgingly, but this was a personal servant to the Queen and not to be questioned nor gainsaid. They let the man pass and the servant led him deep into the castle to the private chambers whence the Queen had withdrawn to mourn her husband and await the birth of her child. It was she that had sent the urgent message and who now desperately awaited its answer.

Kipril was amazed to be presented before so distinguished a personage and was speechless for a moment as he made his bows. She smiled deeply and a glint of hope shone in her troubled eyes as she said, "so the Lady has sent my savior at last."

Kipril blushed crimson and studied his feet saying, "I am no hero lady but a simple wanderer who has taken up a quest whose true heroes have already fallen in its course. I will do what I can, but I am no warrior but a poet."

She nodded sadly and said, "then to you my brave poet will the duty fall. This then is my plea: if a male child should be born, to Astoria you must bear the infant in safety and secrecy, there to await the day when he can challenge his uncle for the throne of Kyra. For only a man can sit upon Kyra's throne and this child is the only one with a rightful claim save my brother-in-law who has already taken the title of King upon himself. He was ever jealous of my husband and his demise was no accident though such is claimed, and if an heir should be born my son will not live long past his birth. But should a girl child be born, she is no threat to his rule and we may depart in peace to my family's estates and he is forever free to rule Kyra as he sees fit."

"When is the child due?" asked Kipril awkwardly.

She smiled and said, "any day. I had hoped for your arrival sooner due to the legendary swiftness of unicorns but alas your mounts are mortal horses." As if in answer to his question a wince of pain crossed her face as she said, "perhaps even today!" The Queen winced again as she said, "I think that you arrived only just in time. Tonight will reveal whether your quest is a vain one."

Her ladies escorted her to her chambers, the midwife was fetched, and Kipril was left in the sitting room with a silent servant. The night passed slowly and only occasional sounds of pain and frustration came from the adjoining room to break the silent vigil. Finally the unmistakable cry of an infant was heard and not long after it was repeated. The midwife rushed out all in a flutter and beckoned in the man who had waited so long; the Queen wished to see him without delay. He made a rather flustered bow and she smiled tiredly at his discomfiture. She said, "twins!" He looked at her in anticipation as she continued, "a boy and a girl, of course the boy's birth shall remain an absolute secret and you shall bear him to safety until the appointed time. Are you ready to ride?"

He said, "I need only fetch my confederate and my luggage from a nearby inn and then we shall leave at once."

"Confederate?" asked the Queen.

Kipril said, "a young woman I met by chance upon the way who was on her way to Astoria and agreed to this slight detour."

The Queen smiled, "excellent, a man traveling with an infant would arouse suspicion. I do not think your encounter chance young man. Why did she not accompany you?"

Kipril said, "this mad adventure has already cost two men their lives. I was concerned about pursuit and did not want both of us to fall afoul of some unknown foe ere we knew our errand. She remained behind in case something happened to me."

The Queen said, "you have acted wisely. Return to your inn, pack your things, and come to the small gate the servant shall show you as quickly as you can. Haste will ensure secrecy."

He bowed again, met the servant in the adjoining room, and followed him on a twisting path out of the castle. They emerged in a dark alley and the small door shut silently behind Kipril as he dashed off in search of his inn. He had just stepped out into the main street abutting the alley when he felt a sharp pain in his abdomen. He clutched at the wound as his knees buckled and he fell to the ground in agony; the air was filled with strangely familiar and sinister laughter. The dark voice said, "I told you to leave well enough alone boy! This is the price of meddling in business not your own. Who did you meet within the castle and to what purpose?"

"That I shall never tell," groaned the stricken man.

"We shall see," snarled the sinister voice as the man dashed off to investigate where the meddler had been.

Kipril struggled to his feet, holding his hand to his wounded side; he dashed off in a stumbling run towards the inn. Alia gasped when she saw who the ashen faced man was who nearly fainted as he entered the door of the inn. She had been speaking quietly with a man in the uniform of the Brethren. Both ran to aid the injured man on the verge of collapse. "What happened?" she gasped.

Kipril glanced about nervously, "we must talk quickly and privately. There is no time." They wasted no time in helping him to sit on the edge of the bed in one of the guest rooms. Once they were alone he said, "as you know there are rumors about that the late King was murdered by his brother who made it look like a hunting accident. The Queen was concerned for the safety of her unborn child, should it be a boy and potential heir to the throne. If the child was a male, she wished one of the Brethren to carry him safely to Astoria to wait until he came of age to challenge his uncle for the throne. The Queen gave birth tonight to twins, a boy and a girl. She will withdraw quietly to her estates with the girl and waits for us to bear her son to safety. Alia, you must meet the servant at a small side gate and take the infant to Astoria."

"What about you?" whispered she.

Kipril drew back his tunic from the wound and said grimly, "I am in no condition to travel nor do I think I shall long survive this wound. One of the men who ambushed my late companions fell upon me as I was leaving the castle. He must have seen me go in and waited for me to come out. He attacked me, questioned me, and then ran off to see what I would not tell him. He will be on the watch so you must be careful."

The Brother spoke for the first time, "these are grim tidings indeed. I am the Lady's Advisor to the King, or I was until the new King banished me from the castle, save for court functions, which is why I now haunt this inn. The child must reach safety at all costs. Take my mount, he will bear you swiftly and safely to Astoria."

Alia's eyes were wide, "me ride a unicorn?"

The man nodded grimly, "I cannot accompany you for I am needed here and neither is your friend in any condition for such an adventure. It must be you. Go, and may the Master ride with you." She nodded grimly, bid farewell to her companions, and dashed from the room.

"Will she make it do you think?" asked Kipril of the other man. He only shook his head in wonder and helped make the stricken man as comfortable as he could.

Alia rode swiftly towards the small gate, astonished at the speed and silence of her mount. He was reluctant to so abandon his master but he knew this task was of the utmost importance. They arrived swiftly and nearly unseen for the unicorn had draped himself in darkness. Alia knocked upon the gate, it was opened by a cautious servant, she showed the crystal star as instructed, and soon received the child into her keeping along with those things that might prove his identity at the proper time. They dashed off together into the night bound for Astoria. Not far out of the city, the unicorn stopped and whinnied in fear but his master bid him run all the harder and he could not disobey. Some time after he screamed in rage and grief but continued on his course, faithful to his master's last command.

The dark man left his injured foe and ran off into the darkness to see from whence he had come. He could not yet gain access to the castle and could learn nothing more upon a second investigation. He dashed back to find his nemesis fled and followed quickly after. Not long after the girl had left, the dark man burst through the window of the room in which his quarry lay helpless upon the bed. He had not expected to find one of the Brethren within, but all the better. The two men whirled about in a dance of death and steel while Kipril watched wide-eyed from the bed. The two were fairly evenly matched and it was hard to tell who had the upper hand. The dark man snarled in glee as he clipped his opponent on the shoulder and knew his victory was assured, but in his moment of triumph he dropped his guard for a brief second allowing his foe to strike a mortal blow. The man fell to the floor laughing through his pain and panted, "you think you have won but neither of you will long survive me." He coughed a few times before succumbing to his wounds and then dissolved into an oily puddle on the floor.

The two survivors shared an astonished look and the Brother leant heavily upon the bedpost, clutching his injured shoulder and breathing heavily. Kipril asked in growing concern, "what is wrong? What did he mean you would not survive?"

The man said quietly through teeth clenched in pain, "I think there was some vile taint upon that blade of his and that it is quickly killing me. I doubt you will long survive me. That being the case, have you thought about what lies beyond death?"

Kipril stared at the man in astonishment, "you are nearer death than I and you want to talk philosophy?"

The man winced as he laughed and said, "I have no such worries but you might spend all eternity ruing these last few hours."

Kipril frowned, "you Brethren are all fanatics on this topic. I suppose if this Master of yours does exist then I have naught to fear. I have lived a good life, or as good as any man could in my circumstances. Besides, I have gotten myself killed on his behalf, for which I think he owes me much."

The dying man's breathing was ragged and darkness was ever on the brink of overcoming him, but he fought against it saying, "with an attitude like that you are sure to spend an eternity apart from the Master and thus in utter darkness and despair. The Master is no man with whom you can bargain in the market place. He owes mortal man nothing. We are all rebels against his perfect way and we all justly deserve condemnation. Our best efforts are nothing to him. What can any mortal do that could impress or indebt the One who made us?"

"Then we are all doomed?" asked the skeptical Kipril.

The man was fading fast but said, "the price of rebellion is death, but the Master took that penalty upon himself to spare us if only we will accept his sacrifice on our behalf. He need not have known death, but he suffered death for us."

"What must I do?" asked the stunned Kipril.

With his last breath the man said, "believe, trust, and give yourself utterly to him." He toppled over and moved no more, leaving Kipril alone to contemplate eternity.

These Brethren were mad, absolutely mad! He had now seen three of them die for no good cause. Could they be right? In all the excitement he had forgotten about his own wound and now remembrance came crashing agonizingly back to the front of his mind. He was deathly weak and each breath became more and more a struggle. He glanced desperately at the dead man and idly wondered how long before he himself was naught but a corpse. His mind returned to those uneasy things of which the dying man had spoken. All his life he had heard the tales of the Master but had never felt inclined to think of them as more than just stories. What if there was something beyond humanity? Beyond death? It certainly made sense but how to know what was truly out there? He glanced again at the dead man and remembered how certain he had been even to the point of being able to proselytize upon the brink of death. Worse, his own heart seemed to tell him that here was the truth he had ignored all these years. His mind protested not wanting to admit that up until this moment perhaps his life truly had been lived in vain. The weariness deepened and darkness gnawed at the corners of his vision; the maw of eternity gaped before him and yet he wanted to protest, drag his feet, and hesitate.

Finally, the moments running out, he gasped, "I do not know you but I know I need you. Forgive my rebellion, my ignorance, and my hesitation. I have nothing to offer, but I am yours to use as you will."

A voice like echoed thunder said quietly beside him, "I certainly shall."

Alia rode swiftly to Astoria, her heart near to breaking for her fallen companions. The infant traveled well for one so new to the world and she wondered what hope rested upon the shoulders of one so small and innocent. The unicorn revealed his true form as they ran through the streets of Astoria that none might bar their way. The guards upon the castle gates watched curiously but allowed the strange woman to pass unhindered. It was not often that one not of the Brethren ever rode upon the back of so legendary a creature. They gaped even more to see the stranger clutching a very young child to her breast. She slid from the saddle and glanced about in near desperation, "I must see your Lady immediately concerning happenings in Kyra."

A servant ran immediately to ask after the Lady's availability and returned swiftly to lead the strange young woman to stand before their legendary leader. Alia told her story and presented the child and his accessories to the astonished Lady who replied, "these are certainly tragic tidings and we shall tend to the child as his mother wishes. Now what of you my dear? You who have traveled so far and risked so much; what is your part in this tale?" The infant was given into the care of a childless woman and her husband who were delighted to have such a charge. Alia was finally able to realize her goal of joining the Brethren.

The years passed and the child grew into a boy verging on manhood. For ten years, he grew up quietly at home thinking no more of himself than any other peasant's son. At ten years of age he was allowed to go to Astoria to further his education with the renowned knowledge and teaching skills of the Brethren. At fifteen, he was convinced he wanted to become one of them. He stood before the Lady that day, nervous but hopeful to have his request granted. She looked at him quietly for a few moments and a small sadness seemed to flit through her eyes for a moment but was soon replaced with dead seriousness. She said, "Ian, I cannot grant that which you ask."

He gaped and without thinking asked, "what have I done or not done that you will not allow me to join you?"

She smiled and said gently, "it is nothing of your doing but concerns a greater duty you must first fulfill." He looked at her in absolute confusion as she continued, "as you are well aware, the Brethren cannot rule even a city, let alone a country save perhaps the Lady of Astoria. You cannot take your Oath because you are the rightful heir to the throne of Kyra and the time has come for you to journey thither and claim your birthright." He looked at her as if she had gone mad.

She continued, "your father, the former King of Kyra was killed upon a hunting foray and many suspect his brother in the crime. Your uncle now rules Kyra with an iron fist and oppresses your people severely. Your father died before your birth and your mother feared for your life so sent you hence that you might grow up in safety. Your twin sister and mother yet reside upon your family estates in Kyra. Nothing is known to anyone outside the Brethren and a few faithful servants of your existence. My hope, and the hope of all Kyra, is that you return to the land of your birth and claim the throne that is rightfully yours and rule your people more justly than their current King. This is why I must deny you the Oath."

He gaped at her and finally said, "I understand and know I must take this quest upon myself if only for the sake of the suffering Kyrans, but how am I, a mere boy to challenge a King?"

The Lady smiled warmly, "I will send several of the Brethren with you along with certain proofs of your valid claim to the throne. You must know this is a very dangerous quest; four men and two unicorns have already died in the events surrounding your birth. The King has many dangerous servants and advisors who will aid him in thwarting your efforts at all costs."

Ian bowed deeply and said, "it is a risk I must take. What if I fail?"

The Lady smiled, "short of death I do not think you shall fail."

He smiled weakly, "my only regret is not being able to serve you as one of the Brethren."

She smiled warmly and said, "if you survive this ordeal and still have the interest in sixty years or so after you have passed your reign onto your children, I see no reason why you cannot yet join the Brethren." He smiled deeply at her sincerity and wondered if his zeal could be so strong as to last six decades.

Alia and three others were dispatched to accompany the aspiring prince to Kyra. He carried with him a letter written by his mother and sealed with the royal signet ring, the crystal star charm, and his late father's sword. It was early autumn and the weather was perfect for travel; the party made excellent progress and was soon nearing the borders of Kyra. It was at this point in their travels that Ian felt the adventure was about to begin; until now, he had been in a blissful half-dream but now was not the time for childish fancies when the fate of a nation rested upon his very inadequate shoulders. It was late afternoon and the sun had set all the world afire in shades of richest gold when a lone traveler approached the party upon the road. He drew rein and waited patiently for the party to approach.

One of the men asked as they drew nigh, "why do you bar our way stranger."

The stranger suppressed a smile of secret amusement and said, "I do not bar your path but simply wish to join your party. I have come to aid you in your endeavors."

The Brother laughed, "and what could you know of our errand?"

The stranger replied, "I have come to see finished the errand I began fifteen years ago."

"And what errand would that be stranger?" asked the Brother cautiously.

The man smiled sheepishly and said, "to see a proper King restored to Kyra."

"What part did you play in that sad tale," asked the Brother in confusion, "I thought there were none living, save those in our party, to finish what was begun so long ago."

"Alia can testify to my involvement," said the man strangely.

All the while, Alia had been staring at the stranger in astonishment and could not quite believe her eyes. With his statement she said in doubt and horror, "Kipril? Is it truly you? I thought you long dead! What became of the Advisor to the King, his mount certainly felt him die?"

Kipril glanced towards the ground and then ruefully met her astonished gaze, "you know me for truly myself. Not long after you left, my attacker came to finish me only to find me not alone. They fought, the sinister man was killed, and my valiant protector did not long survive him. I was on the brink of death when I finally realized sense and surrendered my life, failing as it was, to the Master. The Master himself was in that room and took me at my word. He healed my wound and set me immediately upon this task. To you it has been fifteen years; to me it has been only a few minutes! I do not know what shall become of me once all is ended. I may perhaps live on for years or I might fall to dust the moment the King is crowned. At least my life will not have been lived completely in vain."

The little company stared at him in astonishment, but the Brethren knew he spoke truly no matter how hard it was to believe. Alia smiled at her long lost friend and said, "then welcome back my friend. What counsel can you give us about matters in Kyra?"

Kipril said, "as you know, the King is a vile tyrant and sorely tries his people. What you may not know is that the men behind the deaths of three of your comrades fifteen years ago secretly aid and advise the King. The Queen and her daughter still live quietly in the country but the King has his eye on the girl as a prospective bride for his own son and heir. I suggest we break into two parties. Alia, the boy, and I shall ride to the former Queen's estates and the rest of you shall ride to Yorka and assess the situation there. We shall meet you as soon as we have apprised the Queen of her son's return." The others quickly agreed and they set off immediately for their assigned destinations.

As Alia and her companions made camp that night, Ian asked, "how can this be?"

Alia laughed, "how can you have spent so many years among the Brethren and not believe in miracles?"

Ian smiled ruefully, "I suppose I do but I thought they only ever happened to other people. The Master truly does work in wonderful and mysterious ways!"

They rode on, avoided the patrols once they crossed into Kyra, and soon found themselves upon the Queen's estates. Alia presented the star trinket to the guards at the great gates before the ancient house and a servant was quickly sent to inquire after the Queen. The astonished servant quickly returned and ushered the strangers into his lady's presence. All three bowed and the aging woman stared in wonder and joy at her long sundered son. Finally each found the courage to embrace and a quick round of wondering questions and excited chatter followed.

After Ian met his sister and mother and all their curiosity and joy had momentarily been satisfied Alia asked, "how go things in Kyra? Are they as bad as we have heard? Any idea how the boy is to retake the throne?"

The queen said, "things are bad enough, especially for the commoners. In usual circumstances, Ian would present himself to the royal lawyers who would then decide whether he was the legal heir to the throne, but these are far from usual circumstances. I fear his uncle will kill him regardless."

Kipril said, "I think secrecy will not avail us. Let us present ourselves before the entire court that a knife in the dark will not end all their worries. With enough witnesses perhaps the King will step down as he rightfully should. If he will not, then we will do what we must. He may challenge you to a duel for the crown and I am sure there will be treachery in the mix."

Ian said firmly, "I will do what I must."

They all agreed to the sketchy plan and the three set off at once with the Queen to follow after with the intent of attending court on the following evening when Ian would make his claims. They reached Yorka the following morning and met with the three that had gone ahead who agreed completely with their suppositions. The Brethren could not take the throne by force, but neither could the current King legally deny the claims of his nephew. His only recourse would be to have the upstart murdered, a dangerous task since all the city would soon know of the challenge to his throne or to challenge him to and best him in a duel.

The servants of evil had not been lax these many years either. They had a spy in the midst of the Queen's servants and the moment he saw the star trinket he knew the game was afoot. He made his way to the city and swiftly reported his suspicions to his dark masters. So it was when the young renegade came to make his claims, the King and his sinister advisors were not taken unawares. They could have barred the youth an audience but then he would have made a scene in the street. He was too well protected to be silently murdered and it would be good to show the court exactly how such rebels were dealt with. The King actually looked forward to the confrontation and his associates would make sure that he was the victor. As expected, he made his appearance at court the following evening.

There was much gossip amongst the bystanders as the King had allowed word of the imposter to be spread abroad. Alia, Kipril, and his mother accompanied him to stand before the King; the rest of the Brethren spread out to make sure no ambush was imminent. Ian said in a voice for all to hear, "I hereby lay claim to the throne of Kyra held unjustly these fifteen years by the murderer of my father."

The King laughed, "have you any proof boy that I killed your father or that you are even the late King's son?"

Ian stood his ground and said, "I have no proof you murdered my father save the certainty in my heart. But I have ample proof I am the son of the late King." He proffered his proofs and the royal lawyers examined the documents and artifacts for authenticity.

The King said, "I thought this woman bore a girl child."

The former Queen spoke, "I gave birth to twins that night. The boy was safely hidden until he was of an age to claim his birthright."

The King scoffed, "a likely story, you simply found a youth of the correct age and indoctrinated him."

Alia spoke, "nay Sire, it was I that bore this very child to Astoria fifteen years ago. Know by the Oath that it is true."

The King looked to the lawyers, "well?"

They nodded grimly, "the artifacts and proofs seem to be quite real. Can anyone bear testimony to the Queen's story?"

An aged woman emerged from the crowd and the ancient midwife said, "she speaks truly. I was there when she gave birth and delivered a boy and a girl that night."

"Very well," said the King in much glee, "who is to say that you are the legal heir to the throne? Why must I vacate that which is lawfully mine?"

Alia spoke, "Kyran law states that in the presence of an immature heir, a Steward may be appointed until the boy is of age at which point he will assume the throne. Your reign is legally at an end. You are also accused of gaining the throne through treacherous means which would also nullify your right to reign."

"You have no proof," snarled the King, "and I will not relinquish the throne to this no name upstart. If he wants the throne he must step over my dead body to gain it; I challenge him to a duel."

Ian looked concerned, "must I fight him?"

The royal lawyers looked grim, "under these circumstances it would violate all our customs not to. You have no legal requirements as such, but the people would not respect you if you declined. I also think your uncle would prove a dangerous enemy were he allowed to live."

The King gave him a dangerous look and the lawyer replied, "I was only stating the obvious Sire, no insult was meant on your behalf."

The King glared at his nephew, "well?"

The boy drew his sword in answer, the audience drew back to give them room to fight, and the King grinned as he drew his own blade and approached the boy. The lawyer intoned in a dreary voice for what seemed a decade the various rules before allowing the combatants to bow and face one another. The boy was young but skilled, the old man experienced but out of practice. They whirled about in a deadly dance while the dark aides of the King drew their own weapons to aid the King by treachery should such be necessary. The Brethren held their own swords at the ready seeing what the sinister men intended. It was the stamina of the younger man that won the day as his weary uncle knelt before him with chest heaving wildly for air. He mocked between breathes, "finish me boy or they shall think you too weak to rule."

The boy shook his head, "no, you shall stand trial for my father's murder. I will not make you a martyr or give you the honor of a swift death."

At that moment, the sinister men in the crowd made to fall upon the boy but were met by an equal number of the Brethren. The King seeing his future looking bleak and his treacherous friends fighting for their lives, lunged forward with sword drawn upon the distracted boy. The blade buried itself deeply in Kipril's chest as he leapt between Ian and his murderous uncle. Seeing his own doom near to hand, the vile King took his own life rather than losing it justly to the headsman. His vile henchmen did likewise rather than reveal their sinister allegiance.

The court was in uproar and confusion until the Brethren and heir apparent finally managed to calm them. No one understood why the dark men had dissolved into an oily puddle of goo upon death but the matter was soon forgotten as the lawyers proclaimed Ian the rightful heir to the throne now that his uncle was most certainly dead. Some of the more treacherous nobles made to sneak out but the Brethren barred their way until the new King could deal with them justly.

Ian stared down in dismay at Kipril's shattered form, "I should be the one lying dead."

Alia put a reassuring hand upon his back and smiled sadly at her fallen friend, "he was already assumed dead in your service Sire; it just happened a little later than we all thought. He knew well his duty and carried it out faithfully. We can all only hope to die so nobly. We will mourn a little, but grief should not be our constant companion, for we shall meet again beyond time if we remain faithful until the end ourselves." The King was crowned and ruled his people justly for many years and once his own son was well established upon the throne, Ian quietly vanished and only his nearest kin and the Brethren knew what became of him after. The poet who thought himself no hero lived on in song and story long after Kyra itself had passed out of memory.

Excerpt from 'On Princesses: A Foible'

Once upon a time in a land far away (as all such lands certainly are), there was born a Princess, and like all such royal children, her birth caused quite a stir in the Kingdom, for certainly this was a herald of troubles to come, for is it not so in all such tales? Quite sensibly therefore, in anticipation of this unknown but very certain threat to his Crown and Kingdom, the King sent his only child away for her sake and for all other sakes in the Kingdom. With a sigh of relief and a bit of grief, the loving but dutiful parents sent their child into another world where she might remain until the Appointed Time when the threat of all potential disasters would be long past and she could return safely to the realm. The place where the wizards banished the poor dear was a weird and wild place, filled with all manner of strange and bizarre creatures, and this was the opinion of people who had seen unicorns and dragons and centaurs.

It was a place where no sane villain (and very few of the crazy ones) would think to look for such a personage, for what parent would dare send their beloved child There? Besides for the inanity of sending a royal child to such a place (which was precisely the reason to do it), there was also the fact that it would be the perfect place for her to grow up and learn all the things children of noble birth must know: namely that oneself is the most important entity in the known universe. For the citizens of this strange and distant land had long ago forgotten their past, cared little for their futures, and could really care less about anyone but themselves. It was a whole civilization of folk who thought they were aristocrats or at least thought they should be. It was perfect! Or at least it should have been, for the one problem with raising a completely self-absorbed person is trying to get them to notice or do anything not immediately associated with themselves.

"Gertrude!" shrieked a prissy female at the top of her lungs and voice range, "Gertrude! I am in desperate need of your help! Eeek!"

Gertrude dashed up the stairs at her sister's frantic call for aide, which in itself was not disturbing, for Clarisse must cry out in vexation at least a dozen times a day, but that she would ask for help from her sister was nearly unthinkable. She either sought help from her indulgent parents, her elder but not wiser sister Missy, or from one of the equally flighty young women who always seemed to hang about her like the pox, but never would she deign to demand the assistance of her geeky twin sister. It must be something truly desperate indeed to draw such a cry for help when Gertrude was the only person within auditory range capable of rendering aide. Gertrude dashed into the bathroom where Clarisse was putting the finishing touches on her hours' long morning ritual only to find the whole morning's labor disfigured by a look of utter horror. Now this look on anyone else might cause the observer a moment of pity but it occupied Clarisse's face so often that those familiar with her seldom seemed to notice save in times of dire emergency such as this. The panic filled eyes were focused on the bathroom mirror which had moments ago displayed only her gorgeous countenance but now her visage was obscured by a rather lengthy message scrawled out within the mirror itself, for no amount of wiping or scratching would efface the writing.

Shrieked Clarisse as Gertrude ran into the little room, "what can it mean? Oh, what can it mean? How can hackers and telemarketers have gained access to my bathroom mirror? I have already destroyed or deleted this message many times over, only to have it appear here!" Gertrude was quite intrigued and even on the tingling verge of that excitement every true geek knows when an adventure is before them. She read the message again and again, and with each reading her smile deepened while Clarisse could only stare at her in growing mystification. Finally she groused, "why are you smiling like an idiot? This had better not be some trick of your nerdy friends!"

Gertrude faced her twin sister and said, "how could you have let this go for so long? It says quite plainly that this is the five thousand one hundred and sixth time this message has been relayed! How can you be so oblivious? What other messages have you received?"

Clarisse smiled frivolously and said, "oh, they have tried to contact me by every means possible. They even sent me a letter! Who sends letters in this day and age? I cannot get away from this harassment, even in my own bathroom! Every means by which to communicate has been tried and has failed, for I will not believe these hackers, whoever they are. Are you sure this is not some weird trick from your even weirder friends?"

Gertrude laughed grimly, "my friends are too enlightened to try entangling you in such a plot. They would never waste their time." She sighed deeply, "But alas, it is real and for some reason beyond comprehension this adventure has fallen to you." She brightened then and said, "of course I must come with you because you will be completely inept upon such a quest."

Clarisse gaped, "you believe this nonsense? You really think this is wise or safe or socially acceptable?" Gertrude laughed as she grabbed her sister's hand and drew her out of the bathroom and down the hall towards the bedrooms, saying, "it is certainly none of those but you are not going to miss this if I can help it!" Clarisse was too mystified to do anything but follow in confused astonishment.

The full text of the writing was as follows, "My Dearest Madam, please be informed that we have tried reaching you by various means, on several occasions (5,106 to be exact). We were loath to send this message in this manner as it is quite intolerable to separate one's royal personage from one's royal reflection but we are quite desperate. Please proceed to the Park and enter the first horse drawn vehicle you encounter and all will be well. If you fail in this endeavor many lives, including possibly your own, shall be grievously touched. Ever Yours, The Royal Secretary of Lofrenier." Clarisse could not comprehend in the least what Gertrude knew almost before she read the message: it must be magical and therefore an adventure, but who was senseless enough to ask for help from such a person as Clarisse? Regardless, this thing must be done and there was no way that Gertrude was going to miss it.

They stopped in Clarisse's room and Gertrude ransacked her as until now forbidden closet. She finally drew forth a long dress that might be just the thing, or as close to the thing as she could convince Clarisse to wear in public. Clarisse was aghast to see Gertrude digging in her closet but then even more mortified when she demanded that she wear last year's prom dress out in the streets! The poor old dress was so terribly out of fashion that Clarisse would be forced to remain out of social reach for at least a week if she were foolish enough to give in to her sister's ravings. Gertude solved this small problem by dashing from the room and presenting her sister with a veil. At first Clarisse had no idea what the filmy material was and then it occurred to her that she could then appease her sister (also something she had never done) and also be out and about without causing a riot and being recognized as she had feared. As she donned the clothing, still not understanding but so shocked with the morning's events that she dared not defy her sister, Gertrude dashed from the room and returned almost instantly garbed in one of those weird ensembles she insisted on wearing to Medieval Fairs and Sci-Fi Conventions but this outfit was much more appropriate to the former than the latter.

"You look like Robin Hood," laughed Clarisse, as Gertrude tied up the back of her dress.

Gertrude grinned and said, "one of us had better. Come my Lady!" They donned a pair of cloaks (also quite unfashionable) and made their way out the door and towards the park.

"I still can't believe we are doing this," said Clarisse as they entered the park.

Gertrude grinned and said, "I cannot believe you are doing this, but I can easily believe I am doing this."

Clarisse nodded dully, remembering all the times her weird sister had dressed up to attend movie premiers, book signings, and conventions. On their own street, had there been anyone to observe they might have been remarked, but in the park they were quite overlooked as the various denizens thereof were even more aberrantly arrayed than themselves. There were the punk kids with their tattered clothes, chains, tattoos, and interesting hair colors. There was a wedding party posing for pictures. There was a herd of young people wearing nothing but black, complete with stygian hair and make-up. There were clowns and street performers and old ladies with blue hair, and in the mix no one noticed the pair of oddly clad young ladies. They had circled the park halfway when finally a vehicle drawn by something of vaguely equine descent stood waiting as had the Handsome Cabs of London in bygone years. Clarisse gave one desperate look to her sister who only laughed excitedly and drew her into the buggy.

The door closed behind them, the driver whipped up the beast, and off they rattled. It was completely dark in the little carriage, for the windows were covered and the doors were shut. Clarisse wondered if perhaps she had wandered into a bad dream. Gertrude was so happy she hoped she would not wake up and spoil it; her only disappointment was that her sister seemed to be the heroine of this tale rather than herself. They rattled on for what seemed hours but was perhaps only five minutes when the driver stopped the creature pulling the vehicle, descended from his perch, and opened the door while bowing deeply to its occupants. They stood before an enormous castle that blushed crimson with the rising sun. A middle aged man and woman, both handsome and wearing crowns, stood upon the great steps and stared in wonder at Clarisse; they had yet to notice Gertrude in their excitement.

Finally the woman spoke, "welcome home Princess!"

Gertrude gaped, "you are a princess? Well, I should have known! That explains everything!"

"And who is this?" asked the man in some amusement.

Clarisse stuttered, quite overcome, "my sister."

The Royal pair exchanged an amused smile and the Queen said gently, "but child, you have no siblings. Perhaps she is your adopted sister but certainly she is not of Royal Blood."

Clarisse's eyes widened with shock and she said joyfully, "we are not related? That is wonderful! I knew she was too strange to be a blood relative! I at first suspected aliens, but I suppose this is a reasonable alternative. What did you say about me being a Princess?" Quickly the whole tale was told about how the girl's birth was certainly a proclamation of doom and how she had been sent to another world for everybody's sake and how her mother in that strange land had only had one baby but somehow everyone thought she had had two quite unidentical twins. And now, the time had come for Clarisse to marry and live happily ever after. Clarisse gaped, "but how can I marry someone I do not even know? Maybe if he is a Prince and terribly handsome..."

Said the King, "certainly he is a Prince and Princes by definition must be handsome. You must marry him or Dread Things might result."

### Sample Chapters from 'Shadow of the Unicorn:'

### Chapter 1

Jace stood upon the battlements, staring, though unseeing, out upon the bleak grey landscape of the failing year ere snow covered and softened the weary land for its winter repose. Leaden clouds lowered ominously on the horizon while a mournful wind moaned pitiably in the half completed towers of the grotesque fortress; the river passed sullenly by without comment, preoccupied with its looming icy imprisonment. Though only partially complete, the grim fortress was already falling to ruin, as were the souls who lingered therein. The place was hardly cheerful, even upon a bright morning of spring, and was at its most dismal ere the first snows of winter, but it was not the weather that brought the boy out to pace the battlements upon such a dreary day, rather he had much to contemplate and none of it good. His patched cloak flapped wildly in the wind but he little noticed, for his thoughts were just as unruly. His grandfather, a nobleman displaced by war, had laid the foundations of this ruin and his father had further built up the fortress after its founder's untimely death, but the family fortune had run out long before the project was finished, so it moldered in half-completed splendor while its occupants dwelt ever in the shadow of poverty and isolation, and now it seemed, madness as well.

Jace's father was but a boy when war forced the family to flee with what they could salvage of their wealth. The patriarch was determined to start anew in a strange land, much to the dismay of the locals, but they were a rather peaceful folk and he began his project without asking their permission, and as they were notorious for their willingness to forgive, the project continued despite their misgivings. But tragedy struck the third winter the family spent in their new home, for both of Jace's grandparents died of pneumonia within a fortnight of one another, leaving their son, still very much a boy, alone in the grim fortress with only a few faithful servants and guards that had accompanied the family in its flight, for they trusted no one in this strange land, least of all those of common descent. But the boy was not crushed by his loss, but rather was as determined, perhaps more so, than his father to finish the project and become a veritable lord in this strange land, the protests of the original inhabitants aside.

Construction continued slowly as the boy grew to manhood and the family fortune dwindled, but surely the son of a nobleman might make a proper match and thereby reinvigorate his fortune as well as perpetuate his line. So it was that Jace's father went a-courting and soon came home with his beautiful and captivating bride, the very picture of a wealthy lady, but only a picture, for though of noble blood, her family was as destitute as that of her new husband, though neither had thought to broach the subject before their marriage, assuming the other was indeed as rich as they portrayed themselves to be. The truth came out very soon after Jace was born; the ensuing fight was the stuff of legend, at least if you believe the tales told in after years by the aging servants, but in the end, the lady fled, leaving her infant son and husband to fend for themselves. The man looked coldly upon the boy, who was so like his mother in form and feature that he could not help but despise him. He turned his back on the child, stared stonily at the open door out which his wife had fled, and then withdrew to his own chambers. Had one of the few remaining servants not taken pity upon the poor creature, he likely would not have survived infancy.

The man seemed indifferent to the fate of his son, pretending that he did not even exist and focusing all his time, thought, and energy on his project instead, but there was no money to pay workmen or buy stone and timber, so the man had to do everything himself. Only two servants remained of the few that had fled with the family, lingering on out of faithfulness and because they had nowhere else to go, for their lord had long since ceased to pay them. The old housekeeper did the cooking, looked after the domestic side of things, and was the only mother the boy ever knew. The other was an aging guardsman who had taken on the duties of butler, valet, and jack-of-all-trades; it was he that taught the boy what little he knew of reading and more importantly, to his mind at least, the sword. The rest of the lad's education was left to what he could glean from the few books that lay forgotten around the fortress and what the housekeeper could impart in the form of old stories as she wandered about the keep seeing to her myriad duties.

As the boy neared manhood, at last his father took a modicum of interest in him, but whether it was due to some newly realized desire for kith and kin in his fading years or because his rheumatism forced him to abandon his fortress building activities, none knew. But one day the master of the ruin summoned the lad into his chambers, where he sat in relative splendor in a fraying robe with a moth-eaten velvet chair for a throne. Upon the lad's entrance, the man studied him as he might a horse he had a mind to buy. After several minutes of dreadful silence, the man said at last, "what do they call you boy?"

The lad blinked in surprise that his father did not even know his name, but his servile foster parents had taught him courtesy, if little else, said he with a proper bow, "I am called Jace, sir."

The man nodded as if it were of no matter and continued, "very well boy, they say you are my son, a claim I cannot verify yet neither can I fully deny it. In either case, it is high time you started to earn your keep around here. My father had a vision that this castle would one day tower over the surrounding countryside and herein would his descendants be safe from war, plague, and the like, nevermore to be driven like refugees from that which was rightfully our own. This is all my purpose and destiny and it shall be yours, whether you like it or not. You will take up where I have left off: cutting timber, collecting stone, using it to finish what my father began, well?"

The boy gaped, was this to be all his future? A slave to another man's futile dream?

The man shook his head sadly, "I see you are not a man of vision, like unto mine, a pity, for I think it proves that you are not my son after all. I will give you the afternoon to ponder your future, either submit yourself to my father's dream and fulfill your true purpose in this life or get you gone from here, never to return." The boy gave a perfect bow and vanished from the room, fleeing to the battlements to mull over his future, whatever it might be.

Night was falling and still he had found no sensible reply for the grim man waiting impatiently in his chambers below, prematurely aged by labor, sorrow, and unrestrained ambition. Jace glanced uneasily out upon the darkening world, could he truly find a life out there in the world that had forsaken his family, from whose stock had sprung his faithless mother? Yet he knew he could not remain forever a slave to his grandfather's dream as his father had ever been. What was he to do? Where was he to go? The outside world terrified him, but could he live on for countless years in futile toil? He wanted to scream or weep and came very close to doing both, but his reeling thoughts were interrupted by a stooping ghost that loomed out of the darkness before him.

Came the gruff but concerned voice of the guardsman, "what troubles thee lad? The master sent me to find ye, he is impatient for yer answer."

The boy glanced silently out into the darkness and the man nodded in grave understanding, "aye, it is a hard choice, but no choice at all I think. This cursed place has consumed two generations of yer family lad, don't be a fool and make it three. Whatever horrors lay without, they can be nothing to what lurks herein."

The boy nodded his silent thanks and then went to find his father, knowing the man had spoken truly. He knocked timidly upon the door and entered upon the gruff command to do so. He found his father standing before the hearth, staring into the flames, his hands clasped at his back; he did not turn around or even look at the boy, said he, "a harlot's son, through and through, cannot even stay on to succor an aging wreck of a man in his failing years, the selfish, selfish wretch." Suddenly the man turned, his anger giving him strength and speed that years of hard labor had stolen, he took up an iron poker that lay to hand and his eyes seemed to blaze with the light of the fire at his back, snarled he, hefting the poker aloft, "Out! Out! Get out, you insolent oaf!"

The boy knew the man was in earnest and half out of his mind besides, lingering not a moment longer, he turned and fled the chamber and hied himself that moment from the crumbling keep. The housekeeper and guardsman watched him flee with sad eyes, shook their heads in dismay, but had known for many a year that there could be no other end to the tale, but at least this wretched fortress would not utterly consume the boy as it had his forbears, what the outside world might do to him was another matter entirely.

Jace fled with only the clothes on his back, packing was of little matter as he was currently wearing everything he possessed. His only thought was to escape the broken dreams and empty years that lay behind with no concern for what the morrow might hold, for he knew nothing of purpose, joy, peace, hope, or comfort. His world was as cold and lonely as the fortress he had just fled. A miserable drizzle began to fall not long after his flight, forcing him to seek what shelter he could beneath a clump of spruce trees that seemed to huddle together for comfort amid the cold, wet dark. Every fiber of Jace's being cried out to do the same, but one cannot comfortably cuddle with a conifer so there was nothing left to be done but cry himself to sleep.

A wan shaft of sunlight filtered down through the clouds and pierced the fastness of the boy's retreat, bringing him blinkingly awake. He sighed heavily as he gained his feet, seeing no reason to go on save that he was too anxious and grieved of heart to sit still. So off he went into the dawning, grateful that the rain had stopped and that he could now see whither he fled. Which got him to wondering where exactly he was to go. He knew nothing of the outside world, save for forays with the guardsman into the surrounding forest to collect wood or to hunt. He had never even seen a farmer's cot, let alone a village. He had heard the housekeeper mention a city once, a concept he could not quite comprehend, but he was not sure he wanted to venture thither, for she had spoken of it in hushed tones one night with the guardsman as they sat before the kitchen fire, certain the lad was abed and not hiding in the doorway, listening in horrified fascination as she described the demon-worshippers that dwelt therein and the horrid practices with which they maintained their uncanny powers.

He smiled grimly to himself, pondering what was best to be done, as his feet followed a game trail seemingly of their own accord, so little did he notice or care whither his path led. He could wander out into the wilderness and undoubtedly die of exposure or starvation during the coming winter or he could find this city and see if the housekeeper's awful tales were even half true. It might be death either way, but at least he could discover what a city was ere the end. With this grim acceptance, did he suddenly step out of the surrounding woods and look upon a great swath of cultivated land, dotted with farmhouses and well-tended copses, and in the distance loomed the infamous city. He had inherited a little of his father's ambition, so with a grim smile pasted on his face did he set out in quest of what could only be his doom.

His smile became incongruous as his journey progressed in a rather anticlimactic fashion, for though he had prepared himself for sights grim and terrible, the countryside was rather picturesque and the few folk he observed in passing seemed as sensible and down-to-earth as either the guardsman or the housekeeper. He consoled himself with the thought that of course the commonfolk would be of similar disposition to the menials with which he was acquainted, it was only their fell masters that would be workers of such foul magicks. He hastened his steps to discover this inevitability for himself but was again sorely disappointed. He soon found himself in a veritable flood of humanity headed for the city to conduct the day's business. People at first trickled in from the outlying farms and villages but soon converged upon the main road leading into the city.

Jace gazed about him in wonder, never having imagined there could be so many people upon the face of the earth, let alone upon one certain stretch of road. The houses and shops that began to line the way were also strange to his eyes and he goggled like the yokel he was; some of the more world-weary passersby about him smiled in welcome amusement at the lad's befuddlement, for a moment remembering their own forgotten youth. A veritable city had grown up around the walls of the original settlement and many of Jace's fellow travelers vanished into the labyrinthine streets and alleys upon their own errands, but most continued on through the gates, few even glancing at the guards who stood silent watch at the gates and upon the walls, but the boy froze in fascinated terror. His sudden halt brought a few complaints and jostles from those nearest him, but they shoved around him and continued on their way, some giving him a meaningful glare but most shaking their heads in vast amusement.

So too did those fell warriors eye the boy with smiles that never broke the stony facade of their faces. But as more and more people pushed by the lad and entered the gates unscathed, he drew a deep breath and pressed ever onwards into the heart of a city inhabited by sorcerers and worse, though strangely, none of the folk about him seemed overly concerned about their impending doom. He was drawn inexorably to the center of the city where a great castle towered over everything. For a long time he stood as one transfixed, staring up and up and up at the edifice that soared above him. A rueful smile split his lips, for even had he and his descendants ten generations hence worked ceaselessly, never could they hope to make anything like this of that horrid fortress. And thence lay his doom. At last, he gathered his courage and set forth upon the last leg of his final journey, thinking it quite a heroic effort on his part and not a little disappointed that there was not a bard or poet at hand to record the tale. Most of his erstwhile companions had vanished long ago into the city proper and left the bumpkin to stare as he would. So it was that he came to the castle gates and found himself very much alone with a whole host of those grim faced guards just waiting to make a gory end of him. Where was a poet when you needed one?

He stood awkwardly out of the way, studying those who guarded the gates and those who came and went upon their own errands, not finding anything too sinister in any of it. Again rather disappointed, the lad at last made his own approach, knowing his courage was hanging by a thread. His first attempt at speaking failed dismally with the guard looking at him in perplexity and what might, to Jace's horrified mind, be pity!

But the guard saved him from further embarrassment and possible flight by asking, "what can I do for you lad?" He actually smiled, "you need not be so terrified, you are quite safe within the confines of Astoria."

The boy blinked in utter astonishment, could this fearsome warrior truly be speaking to him, and with kindness? Demon-worshippers indeed! Said he at last, a quaver in his voice, "I am in desperate straits, sir, but well know that there is little hope for one such as I in this cold, indifferent world."

The guard nodded in understanding and said gently, "aye lad, many come hither with just such a tale, but take heart, for we shall do all we can to remedy your plight, whatever it be." Jace looked near to fainting with hunger and astonishment, as the man motioned for a servant standing within the courtyard to take charge of the flummoxed lad and see to his comfort. The servant smiled in amusement, having done the same a thousand times before, and easily guided the gaping boy into the castle proper, leaving the guard to speak with the next person awaiting his attention.

At last Jace collected his wits enough to comprehend what the servant was saying, "the morning meal has just finished, but I can bring you something once you are settled." He studied the lad's ragged attire that was more patches than original cloth and smiled wryly, "and I'll see to your wardrobe as well. Have you come to study then?"

Jace froze and studied the man as if he had asked if his father were a toad, said he in astonishment, "study? You must know I could little afford such a luxury!"

The servant grinned, "I suppose it is priceless at that, but come lad, anyone is free to study in Astoria and all the Lady asks is that you abide by her rules whilst you reside in the city."

The boy gaped anew, but a smile danced in his eyes, said he with an incredulous grin, "then I will certainly take you up on that offer, sir." The servant nodded as if it were simple sense and they continued on their way.

He stopped before a door at the end of a long corridor and said, "you can sleep here for now, this room is currently unoccupied but if you stay very long, you will undoubtedly find yourself with roommates rather soon. I'll see about finding you something to eat and some appropriate attire." He smiled broadly as he turned to go, "welcome to Astoria!"

The boy stared wistfully after the retreating form for a moment and then curiously opened the door and entered the room. Glancing about at the small but comfortable chamber, he laughed aloud and said, "demon worshippers indeed!"

"How dreadful!" came a startled and unfamiliar voice.

Jace turned around in surprise to find a girl about his own age, or at least so he assumed, not having much experience in such matters, peeping round the door, a broom forgotten in one hand. She squeaked in dismay, "forgive me, I was just sweeping the hall when I heard your outburst and just had to investigate." She blushed crimson at her own unseemly outburst and though she colored further, pressed on, "can you tell me more about these demon worshippers?"

Jace was not sure whether he was more startled, annoyed, or amused by this perplexing creature, but said as calmly as he could, "I haven't much to tell, for I was only laughing at the incongruity of this place with a description I once heard of it. The old woman was convinced this place was naught but a den of such villains, but I have yet to find them, should they exist."

Briane laughed excitedly, clasping her hands like a little girl, "oh, you will have to look long and hard to find such in Astoria. I have been here all my life and have never heard of such goings on."

Jace smiled wryly at his previous eagerness, "so there isn't anyone in Astoria possessed of uncanny abilities as my unenlightened source assumed?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," came the voice of the returning servant. He gave the girl a patient look, "have you not things to be about?" She squeaked again, dropped a curtsy, and disappeared around the corner with a death grip on her broom. The servant shook his head and smiled ruefully, "the silly girl spends more time eavesdropping than attending to her chores; more curiosity than a cat, has that one."

Jace was gaping again, but the servant ignored him and thrust a pile of clothes and a tray of food into his hands, saying as he did so, "as promised, here is your breakfast and a change of clothes. If you hurry, you can just make it to the next class session. You'll have an official schedule soon, but until then you had best tag alone with some of the other Students." He smiled impishly, "and as to your unasked question, you'll soon discover the answers for yourself if you pay attention in class." He nodded at the boy and vanished about his interrupted errands.

Jace shook himself, frowned in consternation at the servant's retreating back, and then hastily changed his clothes and wolfed down the food, both from hunger and eager to begin his education. Only then did he realize he was alone in an unfamiliar castle with no idea where to find said classes. He shrugged, smiled as his audacity reared its head once more, and dashed down the hall in search of a class or an adventure, whichever came first.

He nearly collided with a pair of slightly older boys as he came careening around the corner, determined not to be late. Suddenly ill at ease, Jace muttered his apologies and stared at his feet. One of the older lads must have heard, 'new here,' amongst Jace's mumbling for he cheerily replied, "don't worry about it! Come with us and we'll help you get settled."

The boy stared up in astonishment, gaping yet again, stuttered he, "how can this be? How can you be bothered with helping me? I don't understand?"

The older pair exchanged a grin, then Adan, the lad who had spoken, clapped the younger boy on the back and smiled, "it seems you have much to learn about life in Astoria. Wherever you came from, it must have been a rough life. But come, else we'll be late." Jace smiled at his reassuring words and then blanched in near panic at the thought of being the cause of their tardiness. The older pair shook their heads in amusement but all three hastened off to class.

Jace remembered little of that first lesson, so overwhelmed was he with all that had happened in the last day and all the novel sights and experiences he had taken in. His erstwhile guides were assigned chores in the stable the following hour, which allowed the overwrought Jace some much needed time to sit and think while his companions shoveled muck. The midday meal offered another course of novelty and wonder to Jace's abused sensibilities, never in his life had he been amidst so many people, and most astonishingly of all, though complete strangers, they actually seemed to care about him. Another round of classes was set for the afternoon, but Jace felt he needed some time alone to sort everything out, and perhaps even a nap after his difficult night. He goggled, less than a full day had passed since his father had cast him out, alone in the night. Adan nodded his understanding and showed him back to the corridor that housed his room, and though he valiantly intended to contemplate upon all that had happened, he fell promptly and soundly asleep.

### Chapter 2

A ruckus in the hall wakened the boy as the eager Students returned to their rooms after their last class before going to the evening meal. Jace glanced blearily about, wondering for a moment where he was, but suddenly realization dawned and a great smile lit his face. He had come home at last. He adjusted his rumpled clothing, grateful it was not too wrinkled from his nap and ran a hand through his hair, it would do, then dashed excitedly from the room, again nearly colliding with Adan, who smiled roguishly at the boy and hoped such behavior was not becoming a habit. Said the elder lad with a grin, "it is good to see you so refreshed, you looked rather stunned when we parted and I know you learned nothing in class today, but it seems there is hope for you yet."

Jace smiled ruefully, "it has been quite a day." He glanced hopefully in the direction of the dining hall, even after so short a stay he had become very much accustomed to being fed regularly and well, which was an unlikely occurrence in his former life, said he, "and I'd be happy to tell you all the tale over the evening meal, that is if you care to hear it."

Adan laughed outright, "aye, it must be quite a story indeed, but fear not, there shall be plenty of food to go around."

Jace colored and began studying his boots, abashed that his greatest desire at the moment was so blatantly obvious. Adan glanced at said boots as well and frowned, "but first we had best stop by the supply room and find you a decent pair of boots."

Jace looked up suddenly in surprise, would the miracles in this place never cease? He had never owned a decent pair of boots, this particular pair had been worn by his father when he fled his homeland, ages ago! Adan smiled warmly at the look of grateful astonishment in the lad's eyes and led the way, eager to see the wish fulfilled. The servant in charge of the supply room at that hour took one look at the antique footwear, turned away with a disgusted groan, and vanished into the storage area, reappearing with a worn, but quite serviceable pair of boots that actually fit the agape lad. Rather pleased with himself, the servant smiled smugly and reluctantly took the ancient boots in exchange, his countenance taking on an unruly expression as he did so, their fate remains a mystery to this day but judging from his face, it was not a pleasant one.

As they walked to the dining hall, Jace remarked with an awe tinged voice, "I have never encountered such generosity, not even from my own folk!"

Adan shook his head, his eyes sparkling, "you've seen nothing yet, all we've done this day is see you properly clothed and fed."

Jace froze mid-step and faced his companion, "there's more?!"

Adan clapped him on the shoulder and smiled, "aye, more than you can begin to imagine." They continued on, Jace speechless in incomprehension.

As they sat at table, finishing their food, Jace told his tale, much to the horror and astonishment of Adan and his friends who had joined them for supper. No wonder the boy was so grateful for the least bit of kindness or attention! Adan said at last, "so that is the tale behind that ugly heap of rocks up river? Long have we theorized amongst ourselves about who or what had built it, or rather begun it, and why. It is a grim enough story in its own right." He smiled ruefully, "though nowhere near as horrific as some of the tales we've birthed."

The others shared a wry laugh and eyed their companion with both pity and wonder, Jace awkwardly studied his peas, uneasy being the focus of such attention. Adan continued, more to distract his companions away from their study of the abashed boy than for anything else, "well, this is the place to start over or start anew, if that is your wish. Any idea what you want to do with your life?"

Jace could not restrain his laugh, "it was but a day ago my father cast me out and I encountered true human society for the first time in my life, let alone human kindness. Must I already know the course of my future?"

The others joined in his mirth, forgetting how high were the expectations of their hosts and thus, inadvertently perhaps, their own. Once the laughter had subsided, Jace asked a bit timidly, still uneasy speaking his mind amongst so many strangers, "what is this place? Who founded it? How can they afford to support so many ragamuffin students with no expectation of remuneration? Is there some hidden agenda or trap, for it seems too good to be true?"

Adan smiled, "rest easy my friend, there is nothing sinister or hidden here. You may stay as long as you wish and leave likewise. The only requirement is that you do your best, be respectful of others, and follow the rules as best you can. According to legend, Astoria was founded centuries ago, near the very Beginning. The country is self-sufficient and quite prosperous in its own right, but is also supported by various Kings, Lords, and wealthy benefactors who believe in its mission or have benefited from its services themselves. They have been educating all comers since its foundations were laid."

Jace nodded thoughtfully, "a noble cause I suppose, but who founded it and why? My experience of the world is limited, but I do not see blind philanthropy as a common trait amongst men, someone must have had a reason."

Adan studied his companion thoughtfully, trying to gage his reaction to what was to come, said he at last, "you will learn far more in your initial classes, but the simple answer is: the Master Himself provided for the city's founding as a home for the Brethren and those they serve."

Jace blinked, not having imagined the so far sensible Adan to be one who believed in fairy tales, said he in consternation, "that is what the legends say?"

Adan grinned, "you are a skeptic then?"

Jace shrugged somewhat sheepishly, though he was not the one who seriously thought myth had once walked about under sun and star, "I suppose, though I know little enough of the subject, and of all else for that matter, that I should withhold judgment until I am certain."

Adan nodded, "fair enough, but don't worry, there is no requirement to believe a certain way to study here. Even if you hold it all to be a tall tale, there is still more wisdom to be garnered here than you'll be able to absorb in a lifetime."

Jace smiled in relief, "that is good to know." He frowned thoughtfully, "I met a servant earlier who made a rather cryptic comment about certain individuals around this place having uncanny abilities, but he said I would have to wait for my classes to answer my questions in that regard. Our old housekeeper was convinced the city was inhabited by demon-worshippers, a claim I am certain is wrong, but what is the truth about this place and its denizens?"

Adan smiled in amusement at the servant's evasiveness, he was pretty certain who it was the lad had met, but he said, "the Brethren are purported to have certain gifts given to them in their service to the Master, you will learn far more in days to come if you want specifics, but there is nothing evil in the mix. Uncanny yes, miraculous certainly, but not demonic." He smiled impishly, "how is it you can believe in demons but not the Master?"

Jace frowned at the thought and then smiled ironically, "that is an incongruous thought! But then, I am not sure I believe in demons either, it was just something I overheard and never gave much serious thought until I was bound hither in the dark, alone, after being cast out from all I ever knew. I guess the imagination is prone to embracing the grim and frightening with far less reluctance, especially under such circumstances, than the rational mind is in accepting the supernatural in far more congenial surroundings."

Adan smiled broadly, "my friend, you have come to the right place, for yours is a mind quick and ready to absorb all available wisdom and knowledge, and here you will undoubtedly find ample fodder for thought."

They continued their conversation upon more general topics, for which Jace was thankful, little liking being the center of attention when he was so little used to it; so absorbed was he in all that was said that he did not notice Briane sitting on the edge of the group, studying him with sparkling eyes and a knowing half-smile upon her lips.

Adan saw him back to his quarters after the meal, for even with his nap, Jace was exhausted though sorely disappointed not to be able to participate in the games and conversations held amongst the students that evening, but such was the ritual every night, so he consoled himself with the thought that there was always tomorrow and many days thereafter. Yawning, he bid goodnight to his companion, and was soon asleep.

### Chapter 3

Once Jace had retired for the night and his companions had dispersed, Briane hastened down to the kitchens in search of her mother. A few of the servants looked askance at the girl in the Student's uniform hurrying through that part of castle at so unseemly an hour, seeing only the uniform and not the face, but those that recognized her thought nothing of it, for Students were rarely found in the kitchens at that hour so the former thought her up to some mischief while the latter knew her true errand. "Mother!" said the girl eagerly, "might I have a word with you?"

Juliene, the head cook, frowned at her daughter in consternation for her unseemly behavior, but quickly wiped her hands on her apron and motioned towards the pantry, which was for the moment unoccupied. The girl smiled exuberantly, quite unconcerned with her mother's disapproval and dashed into the small room, impatient to impart her strange news, the flummoxed dame following in her wake. As soon as the door was securely shut behind them, the girl burst out, before her mother could reprimand her for her impudence, "did you not once tell me a tale concerning yourself and that awful fortress up the river?"

The lady frowned the more, wondering what had gotten into the child, but said slowly, "yes, but what brought it to your attention tonight and why the secrecy?"

The girl grinned unabashedly in her excitement, "there is a new student, a boy about my age, who claims to have fled the place, just last night."

The good lady sat down suddenly on a barrel, her hand over her heart and a small gasp marring her usually unflappable demeanor. Briane took a step towards her mother in concern, never having seen her so shaken, said she, "have I said something wrong?"

Juliene smiled wanly, regaining her composure, said she, "no, you have just said the impossible child, did this boy say what role or position he held in said ruin?"

The girl grinned, "he claimed to be the proprietor's son."

The woman shook her head adamantly and locked eyes with her daughter, "you are certain of this?" The girl nodded, curiosity burning in her eyes. The cook could not help but smile, knowing the girl took after her mother in that particular trait, perhaps too much so, said she, "I once mentioned I was an inmate of that place, but have said little more, for it is yet a painful subject to me and some might take the story amiss, but it is time you knew something of my own past and your own history."

She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts, as the girl's eager eyes tried to burn a hole into her mother's mind, continued she, "you have often asked of your father but I have said little of him. If this lad's tale is true, that would make him your twin brother." She paused and allowed the girl to absorb the shock before resuming, "I was once mistress of that wretched keep, at least in title, but was in truth little more than a servant. I was a daughter of noble stock, but with no wealth left to the title, and so it was also with your father, though neither of us admitted as much until long after the wedding, both assuming the other to be in possession of a fortune and embarrassed about our true straits.

It was shortly after your birth that the truth came out and I fled that place in fear of my life, such was your father's reaction, though the fault was as much his as mine, but it was far more grievous a blow to himself, in his own thinking, because his only true love was that wretched fortress and now there was no dowry to continue in the building thereof. We fought, his temper as unruly as my own," the girl smiled openly at this, "and you can imagine the outcome. At last fear overcame pride and I snatched up my infant daughter and fled, bitterly leaving my son to his father's ill-mercies, but unable to carry both of my children away. I came here and was given a place among the servants, eventually working my way up to my current position. I thought your brother long dead or forever a prisoner within the grim walls of that horrid place, but your news gives me exceeding hope that it is not as I feared."

The girl's eyes sparkled with tears of sorrow and joy as she leapt forward and embraced her mother. They stood there for a long moment before the lady separated herself from the girl and said, "now, I shall look further into the matter and you, my dear, should be in bed." A mischievous smile lit the girl's face but her mother said sternly, "do not even think about it Briane, you are to say nothing nor act upon any of your girlish impulses until I give you leave to do so. Remember, you are a Student now, not just a servant's child, and as such you must act accordingly, am I understood?" The girl nodded contritely, her mother smiled gently, and chivied her to bed, but did not emerge from the pantry herself for some time, a hopeful smile on her face and unshed tears glistening in her eyes when she did so.

The next morning, contrary to her mother's commands, Briane waited impatiently outside Jace's door, convinced that she would die of curiosity if she did not do something, and soon. After all, no one had forbidden her from speaking with the boy, she just could not reveal anything in particular to him at the moment, besides, he was new and undoubtedly in desperate need of a friend, thus she reassured herself repeatedly as she waited for his emergence.

At last the door opened and the boy jumped to find the impertinent girl of the broom lurking without like some predator waiting in ambush. Said he in annoyance, "could I help you?"

She grinned impishly at him, sensing his was a temper akin to her own and that of her mother and thus infamous, said she, "I thought you might appreciate having someone show you around today."

The boy gaped at her pertness, but a mildly amused smile replaced his frown, as he said, "I suppose it would not be the worst thing in the world, though I had hoped Adan would be my guide again today."

She made a face of disgust, said she, "why would you want to be guided about by that stuffy boy? Besides, he is a far more advanced Student whereas we are both beginners. Do you have your schedule yet?"

Jace grinned at this description of his new friend but said nothing as he rummaged around in his pocket and withdrew a crumpled paper and handed it to the girl, who took it with interest and nodded as she studied it. At last she said, "we are in the same classes it seems, so I am far more suited to guiding you about than that bore."

Jace wore a vastly amused smile and the girl paled in horror, guessing immediately who it was that must be standing at her shoulder. She turned with wide eyes to meet those of Adan, which were dancing with silent amusement. She blushed scarlet, but held her ground, refusing to be so easily thwarted. Said he at last, amusement strong in his reply, "come now Briane, I am not all that bad am I?"

She stared at him, never having imagined he possessed such a thing as a sense of humor, but his eyes continued to dance while she floundered awkwardly for some way to regain control of the situation, said she at last, "I suppose not, I was just trying to...well anyway...we had best get down to breakfast ere we are late." The boys exchanged an all too amused smile, but politely followed her hasty retreat to the dining hall. As they walked, they whispered quietly together, much to Briane's continued mortification and fury, though the conversation had nothing whatsoever to do with her, her mounting frustration only fed the amusement shared by her companions. They reached the dining hall just in time, for she was fit to burst or throw something in her angst while the gentlemen could barely contain their mirth. Thankfully the obtaining of food and seats allowed all and sundry a chance to regain their composure and take up the conversation as if nothing untoward had happened.

Adan said genuinely, "I think Briane has the right of it Jace, she would be a far more appropriate guide, seeing that your schedules are comparable. She's also a native of Astoria so she just might have more insight into how things work around here than I do. She'd be a perfect source for any information I failed to give you last night." His smile deepened and his eyes danced, "and she's a far more lively conversationalist and much more interesting person, and thus a far better companion."

She glared at him and then turned her fiery gaze upon Jace when he smiled in reply to Adan's observations, which made them both smile all the more. She sighed, resigning herself to their continued mercilessness regarding that particular topic, and said quite sweetly, "I am happy to see Adan agrees with my assessment. What do you say?"

Jace squashed his grin and said as solemnly as he could, "I would be grateful for your help in the coming days."

She nodded curtly, as if the boy were at last speaking sense, and said, "very good, now we had best get to class." The gentlemen stood as the lady vacated her chair and then each proceeded in the appropriate direction. Said Briane as Jace accompanied her to their first class of the day, "I suppose Adan isn't as stodgy as I thought, in fact he hides his wit quite well, so well I once doubted he even knew how to laugh."

Jace grinned, "you just haven't spent any time in his company but rather chose to judge him from a distance and decided he wasn't worth knowing."

She stared at him, this sudden insight worthy of her own quick wit, she smiled proudly, a possessive light in her eyes, which made Jace a little uneasy, but she said contritely, "you have the right of it, sir, I congratulate you on your insight."

He stared at her as if she had uttered complete nonsense, never having believed this half-fey creature capable of such contrition or of offering true praise! He shook his head in wonder but was saved from contriving a reply by their arrival at their classroom. They silently took their seats and awaited the advent of their teacher, a creature Jace was much desirous to look upon, as it would be his first close look at one of the near mythical Brethren, having paid little heed in his class the previous day and being too nervous to look too closely at those warding the gate upon his arrival. He blinked in astonishment when the man entered the room, at the sheer commonality of the man, having assumed the members of said brotherhood would be obviously different from ordinary men. This time he attended to the lecture with open ears and a ready mind, gaining at last answers to some of his myriad questions and birthing far more. He smiled in amusement at his own tenacity, wondering if he would ever be sated when it came to knowledge or if he were doomed to ask more questions with each answer he was given. He sighed at his tendency to wander and forced himself to pay attention to what the man was saying.

Afterwards, Briane met him at the door with a quizzical smile on her face, asked she, "well?"

Jace grinned, "if this class is any indication, this place has well earned its reputation as the center of learning and wisdom in the civilized world."

She nodded proudly and escorted him out to the practice yard where their sword class was to commence. Jace was both eager and anxious for his next class, for the old guardsman had taught him much, but claimed Jace was too clumsy, slow, and muddleheaded to learn aught else of the weapon, but the boy wondered if it were rather that the man had come to the end of his knowledge and was too ashamed to admit it to a mere boy. Today might tell him the truth of the matter. The class was apparently made up of neophytes who did not know one end of a blade from the other, and it was with a broad smile that Jace realized he was at the top of his class the very first day.

The aging swordmaster eyed the young scamp with some pride but reproved Jace sternly, "don't let it go to your head lad, just because you know how to hold a sword without cutting your leg off. You might be good compared to these beginners but we'll see what comes of you in a more advanced class."

The boy's triumphant smile fell and an anxious light entered his eyes, what would come of him in an advanced class? The man saw his reaction and nodded approvingly to himself before turning to a nearby student to offer comments on his stance and grip on the weapon.

Afterward, Briane beamed, "I have never seen the swordmaster so impressed! He is not one easily moved."

Jace gaped, "impressed?! The man just took me down three pegs and nearly promised to let the advanced students use me as a practice dummy."

Briane grinned all the more, triumphant in knowing she understood at least one person better than her brother. She led the way to the kitchens where they would spend the next hour helping with the busywork necessary for the noon meal. He exchanged a glum look with his escort and said, "I forgot that there is more to life in Astoria than learning and leisure."

She grinned at him and handed him a knife and a potato, saying, "I hope you are as handy with this blade as you are with a sword." He returned her smile and they both set to work while Juliene watched surreptitiously from the far side of the kitchen, irritated at her daughter's disobedience but encouraged at their budding friendship and the little quirks and characteristics that marked the boy indelibly as her own offspring. She smiled eagerly, but forbore telling the lad just yet, not wanting to distract him from his remaining duties that day. The pair finished their tasks and vanished towards the dining hall for their midday meal.

Jace's heart dropped into his stomach as a servant approached him after supper that night, for it seemed the head cook was intent on speaking with him privately upon some serious matter. Yet again he was to miss the camaraderie amongst his fellow students that inevitably followed dinner, but he dared not keep the lady waiting, he wondered if he had made some horrid mistake slicing vegetables earlier in the day, if so, the discipline here was far harsher than he had at first imagined! He dejectedly followed the fellow to a small room just off the kitchens, fully chastened before he had even faced the Lady of the Kitchens. The servant opened the appropriate door, bowed himself out, and shut the door as he left. Jace was left alone with the imperious looking woman, who wore a thoughtful smile, which he assumed boded ill for his own wellbeing; the Lady of Astoria herself could not be more intimidating, or so he thought at that particular moment.

She saw his timidity and said gently, "easy lad, you are in no particular trouble at the moment. I simply had a few questions for you."

He relaxed somewhat and took the chair she offered as she assumed the one opposite and then began to interrogate him regarding his history and family. He was unsure what she thought of his answers, as no hint escaped her thoughtful but stony visage, at last she said, "you do know that Briane is my daughter?"

He gaped and quavered in reply, "no my lady, that she failed to mention." He added hastily, "but don't worry, we're just friends, honest!"

She could not restrain her smile at such an outburst, how was it her children were so good at discomfiting her of late? Laughed she, at which he visible melted, "that is the last reason I asked for this interview, but I am glad you find her company agreeable, for she is your sister."

She gave the boy several long minutes to gape and stutter and then began her own story, he soon lost himself in the telling, nodding and grimacing as he recognized his father in her words, which was all the more proof, had she needed any, that he was her lost son. When she had finished, they looked at one another awkwardly for a moment and then she said rather anxiously, "I know it has been an eventful few days, but I hope this last revelation has not completely overwrought your sensibilities and that you can forgive my abandoning you when you needed me most." She studied her hands in dismay, "it was the hardest thing I ever did, and you will never know how it wrung my heart, but there was nothing else to be done." She looked up hopefully, "but perhaps we have a chance to right the wrongs of the past and to start anew?"

The boy was silent a moment, but there was such a piteous plea in her voice and so desperate a look in her eyes that he could do but one thing: wholeheartedly did he fling himself into the dear woman's arms; she needed no other answer. They stood there for a long time, sobbing like heartbroken children in both unfettered joy and releasing years of buried sorrow. The weeping subsided into an occasional sniffle or sigh; they looked at one another with radiant though teary eyes, strangely happy, heartbroken, and embarrassed all at the same time. A stifled giggle, quite alien amidst that solemn, nay sacred atmosphere, brought a flare of color to both faces and two sets of eyes set to desperately searching the far corners for this profaner of a moment most dear. With an exasperated sigh, Juliene released her son and turned stern but forbearing eyes upon her daughter, in no way surprised that the girl had somehow discovered their tryst and found a way to secret herself in the back of the room. She would have smiled in rueful pride save that it would only encourage the girl, for it was a feat worthy of herself at that age.

At last she said, "quit lurking in the shadows Briane and let our family be whole once more." The girl crept unabashedly from her hiding place, nearly glowing in triumph, smiled like a smug cat at her brother, and nodded in greeting to her mother. What followed was long cherished in all their hearts as one of the dearest hours in each of their lives. Finally, long after curfew, all three crept wearily but joyously to their beds.

In Which Miss Iris Misses Tea

Excerpt from 'Of Tea... and Things'

There she stood in her second best dress on the front steps of her husband's marvelous and imposing townhouse, clutching the most disreputable portmanteau in the staff's possession, or at least the most scandalous specimen that could be procured on short notice. She would not even have been allowed to keep the dress, had it not been considered quite improper to allow her back inside to change into something less grand. She had never imagined when she had stepped out that morning to make a call upon a certain influential social matron that she would be facing such a crisis upon her return, had she known that to be the case, she at least would have worn her Best Dress, a scandal in its own right certainly, but one easily overlooked in the even deeper scandal that had washed over her with all the rage and suddenness of a tsunami. Of course she had never worn the Best Dress, no one did, not unless the Queen herself happened to stop by unannounced for tea! Her current surprise was no less had that been the shock awaiting her but it was certainly far less pleasant, or so she assumed, never having had tea with Her Majesty, she could not be quite certain, but she thought it was at least probable.

She tried to plead again with the dour faced butler but he only shook his head grimly and pointed harshly down the road, as if she were naught but a beggar woman squatting upon the doorstep rather than his mistress of a decade. Former mistress it seemed. Said the appalled housekeeper, from behind the grim brute of a butler who seemed suddenly all brawny shoulders, a feature she had never before paid much heed, "move along miss, it would not do to make a scene."

With a final sigh, her shoulders slumping and her elegant train trailing dejectedly after her, Iris descended the proud and fashionable steps, wondering what the society papers would say on the morrow and how many hidden eyes were watching from behind seemingly vacant windows. There was no sense arguing, it was just the way things were. She had forgotten, well she knew this day might come, but she had hoped something would happen to spare her such an ignomious fate, that her husband's fondness for her would somehow protect her, that he might forget, but it seemed that he had not and no amount of love, however inordinate, could make up for the indignity she had caused him, the insult was unforgivable and imperiling his family line as she had was perhaps the greatest indignity of all, if not a crime in and of itself.

'Miss,' the word haunted her, she who had only that morning stepped out as Mrs. Iris Andromeda Baren Candor Donaldo Eveleff Garand Hatt Indigo...Zebula. Twenty-six surnames, one for each letter of the alphabet, outlining her husband's extensive, impressive, and most ancient lineage, but now she was simply 'miss.' She opened the bag hopefully, for perhaps her future lay therein, but there was nothing within, save a few sentimental knickknacks she had brought with her upon her most fortuitous marriage. Once fabulously wealthy, her material worth was now as diminished as her name. She had a few coins about her person, a surplus of lace handkerchiefs, and a fan, but nothing else save the clothes on her back and the hat on her head. Perhaps she could still return home, she doubted it, but it was the only thing she could think of to spare herself from an even less desirable fate.

She raised a hand to hail a cab, a thing no proper lady would do, for that is what one had servants for, so it took no little time to actually attract that attention of a driver and get him to pull his overworked nag over to the side of the pavement whereon her former ladyship stood. They assumed she was having a fit or communicating with some other personage or fainting or something appropriately ladylike, not trying to get the attention of such a loathsome creature as a cabby. But at last someone did dare to thwart all common reason and social propriety and pulled over to see what the perplexing dame was up to, but not before a rather scandalous looking person, who made Iris's skin crawl even at a distance, sidled up to her most knowingly and said in very familiar tones, "there's but one thing for you to do miss, you're still a pretty-ish thing, and don't you worry, we'll be waiting when you finally resign yourself to reality." He winked at her in a most reprehensible fashion and then slouched off rather too smugly for anyone's comfort but his own.

Iris shuddered in revulsion as she climbed into the cab, gave her address, and tried not to think as they rolled off in the direction of her childhood home. She couldn't, absolutely not! But if her parents likewise disowned her, it would be her only option. But no, they wouldn't, they couldn't! But they did. The cab drew up in a very unfashionable part of town and she paid him his fare, all she had left and with nothing extra for his trouble. She couldn't tell if he was angry, scandalized, or seemed to understand her plight, so blank were his face and eyes, the result of a lifetime of carrying to and fro those whose business was none of his. The vehicle rattled off and she prepared to face her parents, hoping against hope that they would not see things as all of society did, that this scandal was none of her own doing, but they undoubtedly would.

Her father was a craftsman, he worked with his hands, and while he made a good living for his large family, such a family was not likely to be the source of a bride for one of society's elite; it just wasn't done. So it was quite the fairy tale to those who knew the family, and quite the scandal to everyone else, when his Lordship had chosen Iris to be his bride. It was the habit of some of the great lords' sons and certain wealthy young bucks to go 'slumming' amid the lower classes as both a form of amusement and a means of temporally escaping the stuffy and inflexible world into which they had been born. They'd don 'rough' clothes and attend a public ball in the less affluent parts of town and dance the night away with many a miller's daughter and tradesman's niece. It was in just such an environment that Iris met her husband, well former husband, and he was so taken with her that he insisted on marrying her.

Many insisted that he would one day rue his choice, mostly those with eligible daughters of their own, and today seemed to be proving them right. She was neither rich nor powerful nor did she know anyone who was, but her family was respectable, if middle class, but most importantly, she came of a large and healthy family. Her mother had been prolific in the production of children and he had no doubt that it was a trait his admired lady would likewise possess. So they were married, much to the delight of everyone who had any care or love for the happiness of those involved, but all others were appalled, most especially his peers and relations. Gradually they got used to the idea and the scandalized talk and impolite remarks vanished into the background as other, more interesting scandals arose to replace them, but they would no doubt spring back to life after today's little affair.

It was exactly ten years and nine months to the day since she wed what she thought was the love of her life, but here she stood outside the door of her childhood home, hoping that her parents would welcome her home once more. But the unemotional maid that answered the door did not look like a bearer of gladsome tidings, said she in a scandalized tone, "please come round to the back, miss, the front door is only for proper visitors."

Ugh! At least they answered the door, perhaps they just wanted to avoid more public scandal, best to keep this affair away from prying eyes in any case. She hustled to the door that opened off a side alley into the kitchens, hoping to find peace at last, but she was merely handed a few table scraps for her trouble and told that the master of the house, though not unkindly, was not prone to humor beggars who repeatedly accosted his servants. Beggar?! But in truth that's what she was, she had dared marry into one of the Great Families, and in failing to uphold her part of the bargain, after the legally prescribed period, she was cast back into the street, and having thus embarrassed herself and all the Greats so thoroughly, her family dared not offer her succor, lest they seem complicit in the eyes of all society in this most unfortunate affair. There were also yet children at home and the presence of such a specter lurking about the house would undoubtedly affect their chances of marrying well, or at all. To them and all society, it was as if she had never been. She wasn't even considered as one dead, one who at least had lived and would be missed, rather she no longer existed and never had.

What was left to her? She considered the filthy and disreputable man who had accosted her, almost as dreadful as her handbag, but she shuddered in disgust, she'd rather starve! Staring down bleakly at her meager handful of scraps, the only legacy her parents would bequeath her, she knew she very well might. But it would be far better to die an honest, though wretched death, than to play the harlot for her bread. But was there no other choice? She sighed heavily as she slunk out of the alley, little heeding where she was going but knowing she could no longer remain where she was, all of her attention was focused inward on the disaster that was now her life.

It wasn't her fault, or so she hoped, she really didn't mean to be barren, she came of fruitful stock on both sides, but in those ten years and nine months, she had never given her husband even the hope of a child. But as far as society saw it, she had deceived him, wasted precious time in which he might have been fathering children, endangered the stability of the family line, for what would happen if he died without leaving children? She did have to smile, in a grim and ironic sort of way, that she had had ten years and nine months, just in case she happened to conceive on the last day of the prescribed ten years, you never could tell, but as she had not produced an heir in the final nine months either, she was unceremoniously cast from her home and society, driven from safety and security like a common thief. And now her only hope was to become a harlot, this too elicited that grimly amused smile, for what safer woman for such a job? There being so slight a chance of producing bastard children and the lady herself being cast out of all decent society, in desperate need of both sustenance and protection.

Better to face the Wilds than suffer such a fate! She stood on the edge of town, her unwitting wanderings having brought her thus, near one of the great gates that opened in the wall surrounding the city and allowed traffic in and out during daylight hours, but which were firmly shut every evening to keep Things out. What Things, she had never rightly heard, it wasn't proper for her young female mind to be apprised of such Things, but rest assured, between the Wall and the Watch, she'd not need to worry about any of them. She just needed to focus on finding a decent husband. Well, that and having a superfluity of children. She had succeeded quite well in the first case but failed abysmally in the second. With a heavy sigh, she marched straight out the gate and into the wide world without and none dared stop her, for though a lady of breeding NEVER left the Walls without a proper escort, it was even more taboo to interfere with such, no matter how improper seemed her intentions.

She had travelled abroad several times with her husband upon various errands and visits, but she had never left town alone and afoot before, certainly not as a girl, for even people of her father's lowly social status had Standards. But she was quite thoroughly disgusted with Standards and for a time relished the odd looks shot her way by the various farmers, tradesmen, and servants that passed her by upon their own errands. She found it quite exhilarating at first, to be thwarting social conventions so thoroughly; cast her out would they?! Well, she might just as well spurn them! She'd leave of her own accord and that was that. The leaving part was easy, it was what was to be done afterwards that terrified her enough that the ratty man's offer didn't seem so bad upon recollection, but she chastised herself as a milk-hearted sniveler and kept marching further away from the only life she had ever known, but just what was she speeding towards?

Things. Oh why oh why would they not tell her about Things?! Not knowing was probably worse than the most horrid truth, then she must resort to making things up and a young girl's imagination could be quite gruesome, likely more so than the actual reality. Well, this was her big chance to find out. And whatever her fate, it couldn't be worse than harlotry, not that she knew much about that either, just enough to encourage her to produce a baby or ten lest it be all her future. She started to cast back within her mind, seeking stories, rumors, gossip, lies, anything she could remember of life outside the city, beyond the town, things her brothers discovered in their studies, overheard snippets of the servants' gossip, gran's fireside tales, the talk amongst her father's friends over their pipes when she was thought long abed.

Of course she had been taught, as all decent and proper young ladies were, about the Old World, and the Ancient Days, of all the horrible and uncouth things that had happened before civilization and decency and Standards, when the world was wild and young and wide, when people were the myth and all sorts of uncouth folk roamed the earth. But all that happened in another age, another time, probably in another place, for nothing very interesting ever happened in or near the city, at least that she had ever heard of, at least not interesting to her, she didn't consider the latest social scandal intriguing in the least, which may be why she never quite fit in to Society, children or not.

As the day began to fade into evening, she allowed herself a brief respite from her introspection to take the lay of the land and consider what might be her best option for the imminent night. The fields and pasturelands and neat little coppice woods that had straddled the road for the entirety of the journey suddenly gave way before her to a wood seemingly as dark and expansive as the night sky that seemed intent upon devouring all that remained of the dying day. The road itself skirted this impressive forest by a wide margin, continuing on its prim and proper way, seemingly contemptuous of the wild and unkempt country that bordered one side. Well, thought she, Society and their Standards have utterly cast me out, why should I tread their roads and prescribed paths any longer? So with a shrug of defiance, she stepped off the smug little road and clove her way into the murky and trackless wood.

The first thing she noticed was that her fashionable garb, though quite suited to the trackless wastes of societal gatherings, was quite a hindrance in actual trackless wastes. The second was that it was quite dark, as if one had foolishly locked oneself inside a wardrobe. Unable any longer to ascertain what was before her, and tripping most inelegantly over some branch or rock, and even uncertain where the edge of the forest now lay, she could do little but sit down and cry, for at last her heart had caught up with her mind, originally numbed by the shock of it all, she had been able to act almost dispassionately, but out here, at last, her sorrow and fears overtook her. Of course proper ladies were not allowed to cry, but as she was no longer of that ilk, she unashamedly wept her little heart out until at last she passed blissfully into unknowing sleep.

"She did what?!" said the astonished, though otherwise thoroughly tidy, man in wonder.

"She vanished into that dratted Wood, sir," said the equally flabbergasted henchman, adding quickly, "I offered her the usual and assumed she'd come begging the moment she discovered just how limited her options were. I never took her for the outdoorsy type."

"If she was just some common trollop," began the distinguished looking man, dressed to the height of current fashion, as he pensively paced the room, "it would be of no matter if she did choose to so lose herself and be set upon by Things. No one would care or notice, but this chit was special! I had a double-sided list as long as my arm of gentlemen callers wanting to make her acquaintance. It is not often such a scandal rocks Society and when it does, our men of Fashion should be able to take advantage of it. She's costing me money, lots of money, and worse, notoriety! Her reputation alone is worth more than five of my most talented ladies combined." He glared at the hapless minion as if this whole fiasco was his fault, "have we no options?"

"You know no one who goes into that Wood ever returns," stuttered the terrified henchman, "at least in a recognizable form."

"True," sighed the dandy, "too true, you should have just kidnapped her outright."

"Knowing what we do now, I would have, but I like to give them the chance to despair first," smiled the lackey wickedly, "it makes their final surrender and despair all the sweeter and seems to even make them grateful to us for saving them from utter ruin."

"Why can't she just be reasonable like every other girl in the realm?" mused the cad in a gentleman's garb.

"There were whispers you know, sir," said the flunky in dubious and hushed tones.

"Yes," slurred that non-gentleman, "and if true, perhaps she would have been a most troublesome acquisition indeed. But was there truly any proof that she did, indeed," he paused cautiously, as if to ensure they were truly alone before continuing in a quieter voice, as he uttered the astonishing word, "read?"

"I managed to speak to several of her former staff, both in her husband's and her father's house, and they agreed that she did in fact do just that," said the sub-villain, not daring even to say the dastardly deed aloud.

"It is not," mused the senior villain, "that a lady cannot be allowed to read, but it is her choice of literature that is of the utmost import. You are certain it was not just flimsy novels and the society papers?"

"Nay milord," said the henchman grimly, "it was books, solid and heavy books, any she could lay hand to, not that it was an easy thing in her social circumstances, but they say she found rather creative ways to go about it, vulgar chit!"

"Does she know something we do not about that forest or Things?" asked he.

"I doubt it sir," said the henchman boldly, "for even the most well read of men knows little of that cursed Wood, and whatever means she used to contrive access to a book, it is very unlikely she would come across anything helpful in that regard when men with ready access to such information know nothing."

"Quite true," said the non-gentleman in growing good humor, "perhaps she would have been quite an encumbrance to own, a pity, but perhaps it is for the best after all."

While Iris could see nothing going on around her, not only because she was sleeping as one dead, but also because that peculiar Wood was draped in an unnatural night, that did not mean things weren't going on. While all the human folk in those parts thought this particular Wood haunted, cursed, forsaken, et cetera, it was really none of those things, for it was always near to bursting with activity of various sorts and tenanted by some of the most upstanding individuals imaginable, though perhaps they did not recognize the Standards as holy writ, which was probably the main argument against calling such folk civilized, they were quite civilized in their own particular way, one which Society might very well have called uncouth, could they ever glimpse such a spectacle of course. But as they couldn't, all were kindly spared that sort of unpleasantness.

"A lady?!" said a very astonished voice, lurking in the shrubbery near where said lady reposed in quite un-Standard fashion.

"Quite," chuckled a second voice in reply.

"Of all the strange and wonderful things one might glimpse in this peculiar Wood," mused the first, "this is one spectacle I never thought to see."

"Anything is possible here," said the second voice in ill-suppressed amusement.

"Anything out of the ordinary," agreed the first, "but such a spectacle is quite ordinary in the outer world."

"But it would be a peculiar scene here and thus one would think it quite possible, along with all the other impossible scenes one might certainly witness herein," continued the second, no longer hiding his mirth.

"I suppose your reasoning must be sound," said the first with a shake of his head, "if not here, then certainly somewhere." He glanced back at the sleeping lady, "but it seems so mundane."

"Again you are stating the obvious, my friend," smiled the second, "please stop!"

"But then what shall we speak of?" quoth the first with a wry grin.

"Now who is the one being mundane?" laughed the second outright.

"True," said the first ruefully, "I sound like some oblivious gentleman at a societal function where we can speak nothing but the blatantly obvious."

"The lady's presence is corrupting you already," said the second in feigned horror, "what will happen to the balance of our acquaintance?"

"Dreadful thought indeed!" agreed the first, but lapsing into sudden silence as the lady in question stirred.

"Who is there?" queried she, trying to sound valiant and unafraid but managing only to sound like a lonely kitten mewing forlornly in a dark alley. Iris glanced about her futilely, all about her hidden in mist and shadow. At least the utter black of night had given way to a twilit world of murky shadow but she was still nearly as blind, not even able to see her feet amidst the brume, but she was quite certain she had been wakened by voices.

The first looked at the second in question, he only shrugged and stepped forward out of the swirling mists, that the lady might know what it was that lurked unseen just beyond sight. She gasped to see that she was not alone in this surreal world, but as she had been anticipating Things, two gentlemen dressed in quality but conservative evening dress were not exactly what she had been expecting, seeing her quickly hidden look of disappointment, the first said to the second, "see, she was thinking to discover something less mundane in this peculiar Wood as well." Upon which, all exchanged Standard greetings, before the first spoke once more, "how come you here madam and may we be of any assistance?"

She fought valiantly but the tears still came, said she through her sobs and hiccups, "I am quite at a loss, gentlemen, for I've been Forsaken by kith and kin, cast out for the most heinous of offenses. I wonder that you would even deign speak with me."

The first man could not suppress a grin, "we don't often get to read the society papers, milady. You will be happy to know that your society's standard is not ours."

She blinked at him as if he had said he routinely employed an ostrich in lieu of a carriage horse, said she in some befuddlement, "what then is your Standard? I know I am Outcast, but if you are equally so, have you not turned bandit or outlaw or something equally uncivilized?"

"Your society certainly would not approve of our various goings on, madam," assured the second, his own grin as wide as his fellow's, "but we are far from lawless men. Indeed, we cling to a standard even higher and older than that to which you refer."

She smiled sadly at these poor benighted men, lost so long in the dark and mist that they must truly have lost all sense of decency and propriety, not to mention physical direction, but then again, it was the Standards that had proclaimed she must be cast from all decent company and protections for an act which was not willfully done and was in nowise her fault and said that her former kith and kin must have nothing whatsoever to do with her ever again whilst these respectable seeming gentlemen were at least treating her as a real and valuable person.

Said she in polite ignorance, "I suppose there must be other Standards in the world, those that govern conduct say in former times or distant places, perhaps it is of this you speak?"

"Something like that indeed, my lady," said the first with a grandiose bow, "but come, what crime or perception thereof has driven you so far from home?"

They both blinked in wonder at her brief tale, said the second, "and how is it you chose to flee to this peculiar Wood, whose reputation may be even worse among fashionable folk than even the flesh dealers that offered you succor?"

"I've never heard aught of this Wood, either good or ill," said she simply, "women are not told such things. I've tried to read up on things, not Things mind you, but anything I could lay hands on, but even that study was limited, for it is thought quite uncouth for a woman, particularly one of my standing, to know things, especially about Things." She brightened significantly at this, "now that I am a woman of ill-repute, will you tell me about the Things?"

"What things?" queried the first in confusion.

"You know!" said she a bit abashedly, "the reason the city has walls, the Things they are meant to keep out!"

The men exchanged a rather amused grin, at which she frowned, thinking their mirth sprang from her ignorance, but the second reassured her, "I am not sure why they built the walls if they think to repel Things from within this Wood, that is utterly ridiculous, but perhaps your folk do not understand that or it makes them feel better regardless, but either way, if the walls were meant to keep your folk safe from Things within the Wood, they are sorely mistaken."

"I see," said she rather lamely, but perked up as she considered, "still, if they are afraid of Things, there must be a reason and I would dearly love to learn it."

"I am afraid what your folk fear and the actual reality of the situation are two very different things, milady," said the first with a regretful shake of his head, continuing swiftly as she tried to interject eagerly, "and some of those truths cannot be imparted to you, for either the world is not ready or is forbidden from knowing or even we know not the truth of the matter."

She shut her eagerly gaping mouth and merely broached a disappointed, "oh," feeling again a little girl whose father had just told her serious books were not within the proper domain of womenfolk.

"That and there is not time enough between now and the end of days to thoroughly discuss such a topic," added the second hurriedly.

"So you are saying," mused she, "that though much must yet remain hidden from my ravenously curious mind, there are still enough facts of interest to keep me thoroughly occupied for the rest of my born days?"

"Certainly miss," grinned the first, "the better question would be, what do you need to know, what would be the most important topic to begin your education?"

She stood and brushed the residual brush from her hopelessly rumpled dress, touched her now feral hair with an appalled hand, only to discover her stylish hat was also missing, and said in resignation, "I suppose one's wardrobe and appearance are not of the utmost import within this wild wood of yours? If the residents hereof are not at all concerned with mortal walls, I would assume physical appearance would also be of little import?" Both men offered her a smart half bow of affirmation, their eyes sparkling in delight at her quick assessment of the situation and seemingly innate understanding thereof. She glanced around morosely at the unpromising gloom and asked, "and I suppose what I can see of this dismal place is hardly to be used as a measure to judge the Wood as a whole or even in part?"

"Indeed!" agreed the second happily, "you have a fine grasp upon the situation, for having just arrived and being..." He trailed off awkwardly, not knowing how to state the obvious in a delicate and politic manner.

She grinned at him, quite like an excited and unabashed child, "being a former society matron?"

"Quite," seconded the first.

"I suppose the most important matter to determine is what is to come of me?" she gazed at her interlocutors earnestly.

"I suppose we cannot just throw her back?" grinned the second in a most impish fashion.

At this, the lady gaped unwittingly like the metaphorical fish to which she had just been compared, little realizing that she had likewise committed a faux pas of vast egregiousness along with her companion: that of comparing a lady to an aquatic animal, it just was not done, at least not in proper circles, but as she glanced about once more, she was reminded just how far removed she now was from those very circles and decided to let the perceived insult pass unremarked, whereat the first came magnanimously to her rescue with, "you shouldn't compare a lady to a fish, my friend, not on any account."

"I suppose not," agreed the second, "but our quandary still remains, bad metaphors aside."

"It does at that," frowned the first pensively, eyeing the lady, he asked, "and what shall come of you madam?"

"I haven't a clue," said she morosely, "I was hoping you could tell me!"

"The outer world has utterly forsaken you," mused the second aloud, "yet you have no official place or standing within the Wood."

"Must I?" queried she, all curiosity.

The first nodded grimly, "aye madam, for without it you would find yourself in grave peril, for there are many factions and an ever shifting balance of power and most of the denizens have little love for mortals. At best they would ignore you, but there are many who would do far worse for the temerity you have shown in violating their Wood."

Her eyes narrowed as she studied them anew, "yet you are not afraid to go gallivanting about as it pleases you?" They both smiled at this, an irksome gesture, reminiscent of a smug and mysterious cat, with just as much hope of prying a satisfactory answer out of them as to the significance thereof. Sighed she in obvious disdain, "fine, keep your secrets! I can only then assume that I cannot safely depend upon physical appearance as a concrete sign of anything in this odd place?"

"You are quite correct, milady," agreed the first, "hope may be found within a monstrous guise and danger in the most innocuous."

"So you are not two gentlemen of means and leisure who have happened upon me in my hour of need?" asked she.

"We have happened upon you in your hour of need, quite providentially if I may add," said the second.

"And we are certainly Gentlemen, at least as the term should be defined, though not as the word is realized in your society," added the First.

"And we are certainly not men of leisure," chuckled the Second.

Added the First, "but we certainly have the means to accomplish the necessary."

"So what is to come of me?" asked she plaintively.

"What are your wishes and desires madam?" retorted the First.

"I want to belong somewhere," said she pensively, "to not be judged by things beyond my control. To be valued for what I am, rather than for what I am not or what I own or to whom I was born or for what I might do."

"The search of every quivering soul," nodded the Second.

"Can I find it?" asked she, hoping against hope, "here or anywhere?"

"It is quite attainable," smiled the First, "if you truly desire it."

"I do!" said she, "who doesn't?"

"Everyone desires it of course," said the First, "but most prefer to attempt to attain it in their own way, by their own power or cunning or strength, but it can only be attained one way."

"The Standards?" asked she nervously.

"Is your society's attempt at attaining it, yes," nodded the Second sagely, "but it is not the true Way."

"Good!" said she with a sigh of relief, "for I've tried it and found it extremely vexatious and thoroughly wanting." Her eyes narrowed suddenly, "how can you be so certain there is only one Way? That sounds rather myopic and closed minded if there are as many different cultures, tribes, traditions, and peoples in the world and even beyond it as you imply?"

"What does your society think of any that don't hold their Standard dear?" countered the First.

"We think them uncivilized heathens," said she at once, narrowing her eyes in thought and adding, "which makes me wonder if the truly civilized way to look at the matter is to see that perhaps there are many roads to the same destination?"

"And what would happen if you found a road and started traveling thereupon, assuming it must bear you wherever you had a mind to go regardless of whither it truly went?" asked the Second.

"That is ridiculous," giggled she, "a road can only go betwixt the places it is built; my wishes mean nothing."

"Should not the same be true of attempting to attain a certain end?" queried the first, "If you wish to obtain milk, one does not approach an obliging rock or climb a tree. Your society is right in its assumption that their Standard must be seen as the only way to achieve their desired end or chaos and confusion would result, even if they are wrong about the means thereof. They have the right idea but the wrong road."

"Humph," grunted she in disgust, realizing how much of a waste her life had been up until this very moment, but brightening added, "so how is one to attain the proper end?"

"Take the right road," said the First cryptically.

"Show me this way, then," urged she.

"It will cost you everything, milady," said the Second quietly.

"I have nothing left," countered she.

"Materially speaking, perhaps," agreed the First, but adding, "but what of your hopes, dreams, fears, doubts, time, preferences, prejudices, opinions, and physical being, all that makes up your heart, mind, body, and soul?"

"I must become nothing?" said she in growing alarm.

The Second shook his head minutely and said quietly, so much so that she had to strain to hear him, "we are nothing, or rather, each of us is accounted as nothing when compared to that which we seek. It is none of our doing, we come naked and empty handed, filthy and alone, disgusting beggars with nothing to recommend us."

She was trembling, whether in fear or anticipation, perhaps both, she scarcely knew, but licking her lips, she said just as quietly, "I am utterly wretched, beneath these fancy rags lurks nothing of worth or substance, yet you say it need not be so?"

"Aye, milady," smiled the First in growing anticipation, "in forsaking what we think we want, only then can we discover that which we truly need."

"Then show me," said she eagerly. The two gentlemen exchanged one of those maddeningly mystifying looks, bowed graciously to the lady, and then the world spun into blackness, dark as starless night.

