Chapter 4: Crimson Blood On Black Stone

Chapter 4

High Priest Donnagan, of Danir Temple

To High Priest Greandor, of Seaport Temple,

My long time brother, and oldest friend, Greandor. I think of you and remember often the days of our youth. It is with a heavy heart that I send this letter. I fear a great falling away is occurring among the followers of Jandrous and the One God, especially among our very own brothers. They are beginning to doubt The Teachings, believing as many now outside the temples, that perhaps the story of Jandrous and His Teachings and prophecies are merely legends and myths. I understand that much of this is nothing new, but has happened occasionally for decades, but I believe the current happenings are different. Now some of our very own priests are adding teachings to their sermons that perhaps Xandrous, The Betrayer is simply "misunderstood." I've heard from the High Priest of Eagles Crest, that he has banished some of his priesthood for teaching that perhaps Xandrous should be rightful ruler of the heavens and thus a god! Blasphemy in our very own temples! He fears that this kind of thinking is growing like a spiritual plague, rising in intensity, and has never seen anything quite like it. Nor have I. I have also heard that Rylosian soldiers of the Mountain Guard are claiming that more and more skirmishes are happening within the passes that lead to the Shadow Lands, as if their defenses are being tested for weakness. The elves of The Mistwood are claiming to have seen dark creatures and evil Blackwood elves moving through their lands. It is yet late summer and it has become unseasonably cool even for northern Rylos. I would have sent this letter by sea from Northport, but I would not risk sending a messenger through the mountain pass to reach the ocean city. I have received word, their ships are declining to sail through the Gulf of Storms anyway, as the dreaded winter storms have come early there. Those few that have sailed have come under attack between The Shadow Lands and Blood Island. Five ships have been lost this month. I fear we may be moving into the Long Winter as stated in the Prophecies of Jandrous. If I am correct, more dark things will soon occur as you well know. But at least we can hold hope in our hearts as well, for I believe soon we will hear the great trumpet of Gualin. And although that will signal the beginning of a horrible war, we will know that Jandrous, The One True King returns!

But guard yourself, friend. I believe The Great Hunting will begin. Followers of Jandrous, especially the priesthood, will be sought out for destruction. As much as I hate to write this, I fear we can trust few. Hold those you trust most close to your heart, but watch them as well. I fear for the safety of many of our brothers. I pray I will see you again someday old friend, but until then guard yourself, and guard your temple. May Jandrous send his Drayan to protect you.

Your old friend,

High Priest, Donnagan

Kendrick was suddenly very afraid. If what the letter said was true, very dangerous times were ahead. He studied The Teachings often, so he knew the prophecies that Donnagan wrote of in the letter. All followers of Jandrous would be in great danger, especially the priests. He could not believe, however, that any of his brothers from the Danir temple were not to be trusted. But he respected Donnagan greatly, and knew him as a man who spoke only the truth. He himself had heard of the early harsh weather in the Gulf of Storms, and the attacks. And the cold winter weather was indeed early. In fact he was quite surprised the storm that happened upon his journey from Danir was simply icy rain and not snow. He still worried about that however. With the way the winds were blowing, if it became much colder he could find himself in the middle of a blizzard. It was still storming heavily, and he looked away from the letter, outside, where the wall had fallen outward. Frightening weather. He shook the thought out of his mind— it seemed now, he had enough to be worried about. No point in adding blizzards to his anxieties. He had heard a few stories of blasphemous teachings in other temples, but not on the level the old priest recorded in his letter. Nor had he heard of the "dark creatures," whatever that meant, or the Blackwood elves within The Mistwood. He had heard, however, of the skirmishes involving the Rylosian Mountain Guard within the Stormblade Mountains' passes into the Shadow Lands. His hands shook from fear as he stared at the letter in his hands and he now wished he had never read it. "Curse my curiosity," he thought to himself. "I think I would have been better off not knowing any of this. I suppose I would find out eventually anyway." He ran a hand through his dark hair, now dry, inhaled and exhaled deeply, and shook his head. "No help in worrying right now," he said and rolled up the letter to return to its tube. He watched the storm outside while he prayed silently, and wondered what his life would be like from then on, knowing that it had changed the moment he walked in the door of the temple and found Donnagan waiting. Rummaging through his pack he pulled out his book of The Teachings, and read through the prophecies and of the story of Jandrous' life and death by betrayal. An hour later his clothing had dried and he redressed, including the cloak, and then lay back near the fire to sleep. He rested his head on the leather pack and stared at the ceiling, thinking himself too afraid to sleep. But he prayed silently, and sleep found him mid-prayer.

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Marek awoke with a startled cry, rising quickly to a sitting position and felt a hand on his shoulder. "Be at ease, Marek," Jarren whispered as he knelt by the frightened priest. It was only a dream." The priest rubbed his face in his hands, and shook his head in an attempt to clear it of any remnants of the ill dream that had awakened him, although the dream was already forgotten. It was yet dark, and Jarren slowly poked at the small fire while looking out across the clearing. The tall man motioned with his chin and pointed toward something with one hand, indicating that Marek should take a look. "They nearly bolted at your cry," he whispered. Looking out across the clearing, Marek could see a dozen large, deer-like animals grazing in the clearing. They resembled elk, but larger, broader in the chest and legs, powerfully built, yet they also had the appearance of an agile, quick animal. Their coats appeared short and thick, mostly a dark grey, but with a silvery shine down the neck and chest and along the shoulders and backs, with a white stripe from the tops of their heads, over their eyes, and down the tops of their muzzle. They moved slowly through the grass, lowering their heads to pull up grass with their teeth, and raising them again as they chewed. All had a large array of antlers pointing up and outward from the tops of their heads, like the leafless branches of a tree. But there were three, larger animals, whose racks of antlers dwarfed the others in comparison. Marek guessed these were the males. The large elk-like animals did not venture close to their camp, but did not seem necessarily afraid of the two humans and massive wolf either, despite their nearly bolting when Marek came awake with a start. Marek was in awe of the beautiful, powerful creatures clearly visible by the light of the moon still above.

"What are they?" he asked, never seeing their kind before.

"The elves call them roa'an." Jarren replied. "They often use them as mounts, but no other people have ever ridden one. The roa'an 'choose' them, they say, yet they must first catch it." He shrugged his shoulders and continued. "There is no breaking process as with training a horse— when they catch it, they simply mount, and the roa'an let them ride. But they will normally allow no other to ride them. There have been some instances when an elf rode a roa'an that had 'chosen' another, but that is very rare."

"They're magnificent creatures," the priest said, the awe evident in his voice and expression.

"You'll see more," Jarren said smiling, "when we get to the village. You should try and get some more sleep. We'll continue on late morning. I'll be getting some sleep soon as well.

"Will you wake me, to keep watch I mean, when you go to sleep yourself?" Marek asked. "I should be fine, I think, after a little more sleep."

"No need." Jarren said. "Runner was sleeping himself until you woke, but he will watch as I sleep. We are safe here, I believe," he continued. "The roa'an would not be here if there was danger nearby. There are dangers in this part of the Forever Lands, but not as much as further south or deeper to the west. One should always be wary of danger here, but even more so there. And as long as there are roa'an about, we can rest easy."

Marek indeed rested easy, the remainder of the night.

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Drogan awoke in the early dawn, and after a quick meal donned himself in full battle gear, as was customary, but not required, for a soldier visiting his superior officers. It was customary as well to wear weapons and armor when requesting to resign. He came to Grey Home a boy, and would leave a warrior. He also wore a long, hooded, grey woolen cloak. It was a chill morning, and in true typical Grey Home fashion, a grey one as well. A light rain fell from the overcast sky as he walked the short distance from the barracks to the officer's quarters where he would announce his resignation to his company commander, Captain Breyan. Entering the wooden building, he walked down a short hallway to Breyan's door, where he found Faldrek leaning against the wall waiting.

"You didn't think I was going to let you do this alone did you?" Faldrek asked with a smile. Drogan placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded his thanks, and then knocked. They heard the Captain's voice call out to enter and stepped inside where Breyan sat behind a wooden table, looking over a map, and jotting down words on some parchment with a quill pen. The middle aged captain wearing a dark grey tunic bearing a griffin, over a brown shirt, looked up with brown eyes as the two came to stand in front him.

"My report." he said gesturing with his hands to the parchment before him. "Tedious work. I've never been much for this part of the profession." He stood and motioned them to sit.

"I would rather stand, Sir." Drogan explained and Breyan stood to stand as well.

"Very well then, Sergeant Drogan— Faldrek" he said, also acknowledging the man accompanying him. What brings you two to see me this morning?"

Drogan stood tall, chin raised. "I come to ask your blessings on my resignation from the army, Sir." Breyan stared for a long moment at Drogan, eyebrows raised, and then slowly ran a hand through his short, black hair, speckled with grey.

"I must say, I'm surprised," Breyan said. "This is rather sudden and unexpected. I'm sure you've earned the right, Drogan. But may I ask why?" Drogan reminisced on his decision to resign, recalling his memories of his father, as well as the death of his youngest squad mate, before answering.

"I was raised a blacksmith, Sir." Drogan said. "A profession my father wished me to carry on after him. He hoped I would someday take over his forge. I was young... I wanted something more glorious for myself. More honorable. I, against his wishes, joined Duke Nordhelm's army. I learned, long ago, Sir, "he continued. "there is nothing glorious about battle. I am, however, proud to have served. My father died some time ago and we never made peace. I simply believe, Sir, that it is past time I honored my father and his wishes."

"A blacksmith." Breyan said. "An honorable profession." Breyan sighed before continuing. "That explains the strong arm you had even when a young recruit," he chuckled, and then grew serious. "Well, Drogan. You've certainly earned the right. I must say, however, I'm not terribly pleased. You've proven yourself a valuable sergeant, a good warrior, and a great leader," he said and shook his head. "I'll see to it your last pay is generous."

"If I could continue, Sir." Drogan spoke, and proceeded at a nod from the captain. "I would like to request that Faldrek take my position as Sergeant of my squad." At the request, Breyan's eyes widened in surprise again.

"And you agree to this, Faldrek?" the captain asked, a brow raised, and looking questioningly at the older warrior. When Faldrek confirmed, Breyan threw his arms up in the air and laughed as he continued. "It's about time! Ha! I never thought I'd see the day! I will see to it. You'll get the promotion, Faldrek." When Drogan began removing his sword belt to turn over his sword and then his armor, Breyan stepped around the table and put a hand on his arm to stop him. "The sword, and the armor as well, are yours to keep, Drogan." He said. "You are leaving here with honor. You've served exceptionally. Keep them."

Drogan's final hours in Grey Home were spent bidding farewell to his squad, all of them wishing him well, and hoping to see him again someday. Although regretting the loss of Drogan as their sergeant, they were pleased they would be led by Faldrek. Before he left, he was able to acquire his horse, a tall black charger that he had grown fond of. Before leaving the city, he and Faldrek shared their final farewells over an ale at the Laughing Jackal, both promising to see each other again. His squad met him at the gates in a final salute along with Captain Breyan and many from his company. Andorin and his squad were, of course, absent. When he mounted his horse and rode through the tall wooden gates, he sat high in the saddle with his chin raised high and an occasional nod of thanks to those who watched him leave. As a show of respect, the company stood, watching him until he was no longer within site, before turning around and leaving the gates.

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Kendrick awoke to blue skies, and although the wind was cold and forceful, and the road muddy, he was thankful the rain had ceased. While eating a quick meal of dried meat and cheese, he opened "The Teachings" to the prophecies of Jandrous and read.

After some time, the betrayer will grow in strength, seeking to destroy all those most faithful to me and who teach my story. In those days, a long winter will cover the land, not for a season, but multiple seasons and autumn will become winter, and the winter months will be intensified. The spring months will come, and the summer months will follow, yet the winter will hold strong until the time I speak of comes to an end. A great hunt, by the betrayer's followers, will devastate the faithful. It will be a time of great fear and sorrow accompanied by terrible war. Dark beasts, will move upon the lands, seeking to destroy all those who defy the betrayer. Dragons will return and will war against one another. Drayan'os, those drayan who betrayed the One God, will be free upon the world.

Soon I will die, slain by sword in the Valley Of Dragons. A sword that will remain wet with my blood until I return as a mortal again and grasp it in my very own hand. And I tell you now that I will return! And when I return, I will return as the One True King! But listen! I, even I, will not know who the One True King is. Until the sword that slew me is in my very own hand I will not know! There is no written amount of time how long the winter will be, or the war, or the hunting of my faithful. It will last until I hold the sword and become filled with the knowledge of my true self, and I am able to rise as King. So see to it that the sword is found quickly! See to it that it is placed in my hands. My mortal self will not be aware, but my spirit shall! So seek me out so that I may seek you in turn! Continue to seek my guidance, for although my mortal self is not aware, my spirit will be! You have heard me speak of the One God, you have seen me heal. You have heard my calls for peace and love. In those days when I hold the sword which will soon slay me, you will see me weep for all the darkness in this world, but you will also see my anger at injustice, my anger toward evil. You will see me rise a warrior and King! This I promise you.... when you hear the horn of Gaulin, you will know for certain the age has come. Protect yourselves, my faithful. And in this time to come, spread my message of hope. But also, and this message is for my priests... prepare for war! For although you are priests of love and servitude, you are also warriors of the One God! You will be made powerful in your faith and spirit. Show great faith, and you will show great destruction to your enemies. Your faith will become a great weapon. Call upon your faith in my name for fire, and you will be given fire!

Closing the book and returning it to his pack, Kendrick stood and stretched. The grey horse tied to the table shook its head with a snort. "So eager to continue our journey?" Kendrick asked the horse with a smile. "Well, if what Donnagan believes is true, we're going to be in for quite a ride." He still felt the fear he felt the night before after reading the letter entrusted to him by the high priest, but after reading from The Teachings, his fears were calmed, at least some. He believed with his very heart and soul in The Teachings Of Jandrous, and so he believed the coming Long Winter would be horrible and devastating for certain. Yet he also held onto the hope that in the end, good would be victorious against evil. He also hoped his faith was strong enough to see him through it. Although he did not relish the terrible times soon to come, or so Donnagan believed, he did find the idea of seeing them play out, possibly seeing the One True King in person, quite interesting and exciting. After untying the horse's reins from the table, he led it outside the cottage and raised himself into the saddle. Great puffs of steam rose from the horse's mouth and nostrils as it breathed, and already, the thought of a Long Winter was a miserable thought indeed. "It shouldn't be this cold yet," Kendrick said aloud and tapped his heels to the horse's side, to ride down the short rise to the road below. "Perhaps," he continued, "we'll find shelter without so many holes in it today. Although— I certainly thank Jandrous for that which he provided last night."

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Deep within the Keep of Drakus, in a throne room of black stone walls, and black stone floors, sat the powerful figure who had stood atop a tower the night before looking out upon his army. He still wore the black armor and the long black cloak, but not the helm, and his long, straight, black hair draped the sides of his face and over shoulders like curtains of black silk. He looked through bored, ice blue eyes under black brows, as his three crimson robed counselors rushed into the throne room. They walked quickly with their shaved heads bowed, arms tucked inside their sleeves. Two of them knelt when they came before the steps leading up to his great chair, a throne built of the bones and skulls of a number of different animals and men, but one of them hastened up to speak with his lord. "My lord, Belkarus—" he began, but was cut off mid-sentence.

"Why do you not kneel?" The black cloaked Lord of Drakus asked, boredom evident in his deep voice. He glanced up at the red robed priest of Xandrous the Betrayer with a raised eyebrow.

"My lord— I—" the priest stammered.

"I asked you, priest," he roared as his face distorted in rage, "Why do you not kneel?" Belkarus rose from his throne with a quickness that seemed almost unnatural, and grabbed the priest by the throat. With the arm holding the priest stretched out stiff, he walked down the steps, between the other priests who dared not look up as he passed, and to the iron doors where they had entered. The priest's eyes were wide in fear as the powerful man slammed him against the closed doors repeatedly, until he nearly lost consciousness. He sighed in relief when the big man released his grip, but weak and in pain, slid down the doors to his knees. "Now you kneel," he said. "But far too late." With a powerful arm he reached down again and pulled the priest back to his feet. He turned around so that he was facing the backs of the other two priests, drew a great black sword from the scabbard belted at his waist, and ran the priest through with such force that when he pulled the blade free, the crimson robed man continued backward, falling and then sliding between the two still kneeling. He walked back toward his throne, stopping long enough to wipe the blade clean on one of the priests robes, and then calmly stepped over the dead body and returned to his throne to sit once more. "Now— what news do you have for me?" He asked with a cold calm as though the killing had never occurred. One of the priests raised his eyes to look upon his lord, a slight smile upon his lips.

"We have been successful in our attempts to find a way to seek out those most loyal to Jandrous, my lord," the crimson robed man said proudly. "A temple was overtaken, far to the west near Eagles Crest in Erinor— not far from the Forever Lands. All the priests of Jandrous were slain, save one. He managed to escape, thought dead as the others. One of our own, in an attempt to seek him out, called upon a drayan'os to commandeer his body to help him find the escaped priest. From what I understand, my lord, his body was somewhat— changed, but he told those with him that he could 'smell the strong stench of light' upon him."

"Where is this imaginative man now?" Belkarus asked. "I would like to reward him for his efforts."

"He— never returned, lord." The priest replied. "Perhaps he is still hunting for the escaped, but those he left behind say he moved with great speed."

"Hmmmm—" Belkarus stroked his smooth chin in thought. "It is no matter. How can more of us acquire this ability to smell the pitiful priests of Jandrous? Surely few drayan'os will possess others. Even now, this must be a rare occurrence."

"The walven, my lord." The second priest now raised his head and spoke. "It is said they can track not only priests, but all those who are loyal to Jandrous. The stronger the loyalty, the stronger their scent, I have been told."

"Splendid!" The dark clad lord replied, a small smile beginning to show at the side of his lips as the first priest continued quickly where the other had finished.

"But that is not all, my lord Belkarus." He said proudly. "The walven can seek the scent of those loyal to Xandrous as well, and those who are more likely to follow him than others."

"Ha!" Belkarus exclaimed loudly, rising from his throne and turning in a circle, arms open wide, and a great smile upon his face. "My lord, Xandrous! Do you hear? We can seek out your enemies!" He turned back to the priests. "Go then, and send your most powerful brothers, to the mountains and woods near Nerak to the east where the walven dwell. Tell them to find the walven, and bind them to obey— as many as they can find and bring them here. Go now!" The priests turned to go, and after a thought, Belkarus added, "And take this worm with you." Each grasping an arm, the crimson robed men dragged the body out of the black stone room and through the great iron doors. Stepping down from his throne to the pool of blood on the stone floor he knelt and ran his index finger through the blood, looking at it and rubbing it between a finger and thumb. "Soon, my lord." he said. "Soon the blood of your enemies will run like a river."

©Anthony David Rosenthal/To The Valley Of Dragons 2010