Blood of Dragons - The Squire

"It will be the darkness in my life and my guiding star."

The chorus of voices echoed around the chamber of black marble, dozens of robed and hooded figures bowing their heads in supplication to the one leading them in prayer. In their hands were candles of ebony wax that burnt with an eerie green flame, the only sources of illumination available. They grasped the candles tight even as the hot wax melted over their fingers. Their dark robes were seemingly pitch black at a glance, but the flickering lights revealed hidden patterns, unnatural shapes, and aberrant creatures subtly woven into the cloth. The heavy articles made their wearers formless and anonymous; in the darkness, there was no distinction of age, gender, or ancestry.

The prayer leader wore the same robes, the only distinction from the flock being a heavy chain around their neck, made of iron like the amulet that hung from it. Shaped like a twisted star, the eight points of the token seemed to writhe in the candlelight, almost as if they sought to tunnel into the leader's chest and consume their heart.

"The Star shall guide, the Star shall follow," the leader intoned, their voice feminine with a husky drawl. "The path is before us, the darkness about us, the cares of this world behind us."

"Praise to the Star. Praise to the darkness," the gathered figures responded.

The prayer leader smiled with satisfaction. "Welcome, brothers and sisters. It is always an inspiring sight to gaze upon our numbers and see how they grow with each passing month. The Word of the Dark Star spreads ever further; even now, there are gatherings of our brothers and sisters meeting in towns and cities all across the empire.

"The unenlightened seek to quash our voices; they call us cultists, heretics, heathens! They do not know of what they speak!" An angry murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd.

The leader continued. "They put their faith in shallow gods, figureheads that discriminate against true freedom. Their deities would empower a select few, puppets to enforce their whims and fancies, and give nothing but empty words and promises to the rest.

"The petty fallacies of the gods do not bind the Dark Star! The Dark Star does not discriminate! The light of the Dark Star shines equally upon all who would seek It! And when this world, those gods, the very universe itself pass into oblivion, the Dark Star shall remain, and within It, we shall all be one!"

"Speaker, I beg a question!" came a voice.

The crowd murmured again, hooded heads glancing back and forth, searching for the source. The prayer leader held up a pale, slender hand to silence them. "A voice I do not recognise," she said. "A new follower of the Star is welcome to ask; it is only natural. Speak, child; what do you wish to know?"

One of the robed figures stepped forward from the others, smaller in stature and speaking with a youthful voice. "If the Dark Star shall one day outlast the universe, and that day is truly inevitable, do we serve any true purpose by worshipping it? Why not simply leave the unenlightened to their ignorance and let entropy take its course?"

The murmurs became louder, with angry shouts of "Unbeliever!" and "Sacrilege!" being hurled at the young initiate. The prayer leader held up her hand for silence once again.

"You are not the first to ask such a question," she said calmly. "And you are correct; even if we were to do nothing, the Dark Star would still be the final power in the universe.

"But," she continued, "why let the universe suffer for so long? With every passing second of continued existence, there are people in poverty, sadness, agony. They are born into pain, live with oppression and hardship, only to meet a meaningless end, having accomplished nothing to change the course of reality.

"By showing them the truth, that they need not suffer any more, we can bring about the coming of the Dark Star all the sooner, and the millions that would otherwise be born need never experience the torture that is life.

"The Dark Star is an end to all things, including death. For without life, there can be no death."

The initiate was quiet for a moment. "But what of the gods? The churches teach us that they are the source of life. Would they not try to protect the people from such a fate?"

"Misguided as they are, no doubt they would," said the prayer leader. "As with all things, their efforts will be meaningless. For they have but a handful of their chosen few, their clerics and knights. But soon, the numbers of the Dark Star will be legion in comparison, and we shall unleash its power upon this world. The unenlightened shall bear witness to the darkness given form, and it shall consume them."

"Given... form?"

"Yes!" The prayer leader stood up to her full height, spreading her arms wide. "The power of the Dark Star shall manifest within its faithful, and we shall be as its spawn! We shall bring down the symbols of pride that the unbelievers have built, drag them into oblivion, and make way for the Dark Star to claim all that remains!"

"Praise the oblivion! Praise the Dark Star!" came voices from the crowd, amidst cheers and cries of joy. The initiate stood silent until the gathering began to calm and then spoke again.

"Then I have heard all I need to know," he said, dropping his candle and throwing back his hood. Underneath was a young man with tanned skin and sandy bronze hair, piercing blue eyes glaring up at the prayer leader. Her own eyes widened under her hood.

"I know you..." she hissed.

"In the name of the Arbiter, Goddess of Order and Law, you are all under arrest!" the youth shouted. "Surrender, or face the justice of steel!"

"Flee, brothers and sisters!" the prayer leader called. "Flee, before they -"

A crash resounded through the black marble chamber, as the hidden door that served as the primary entrance shattered under the shield of a heavily armoured figure charging into the room. Behind him came a dozen more, with swords drawn and voices raised.

The followers of the Dark Star scattered, making for the other hidden entrances to the criss-cross of tunnels under the city. The knights of the Arbiter encircled the room, some blocking the robed figures with their shields, while others pursued an elusive few into the darkened passageways. The young infiltrator, carrying only a dagger that he had managed to secret under his disguise, charged the prayer leader as she attempted to turn and run. She stumbled, tripping over the heavy robes and falling to the floor. He was on her in an instant, pinning her to the ground under his weight and holding the dagger to the back of her neck.

"Yield," he said. "Your cult is broken!"

"Get off of me!" she snarled but did not dare struggle too hard under the blade. Her assailant reached over and pulled back her hood, revealing a proud, pale face surrounded by long ebony hair, dark eyes filled with hate, and pretty lips twisted in anger.

"Lady Donna Moonward?" he said.

"Release me, you half-blood brat!"

"You can let her up, Tolas. We'll take it from here." One of the armoured knights came forward, levelling his blade at the noblewoman's face. "Lady Moonward, you are under arrest on charges of heresy, blasphemy of the highest order, and conspiracy against the crown and church. Surrender and face your fate with dignity, or resist and face your sentence here and now."

Tolas stepped back and allowed Lady Moonward to stand. She huffily adjusted her robes but held out her wrists for irons to be placed upon them without further objection.

*******

"I swear, Ilga, this just isn't fair!"

The tall, lanky half-orc girl sighed. "Tolas, you helped break up a cult last night, shouldn't that be enough?

"Exactly! I broke up the cult, arrested Donna Moonward, and this is the thanks I get for it?" Tolas groused. He and Ilga, a cleric of the Sun Emperor, stood outside the gates to the Moonward estate. "I have to guard her daughter until the trial? What kind of reward is that?"

"Reward? Aren't Knights of the Arbiter supposed to perform their duties without thought to the payoff?" said Ilga. "Better tone down the ambition there, or they might think you're getting prideful."

"I know, I know," said Tolas, absently kicking at the cobblestones. "I was just hoping that I would be assigned something more important than babysitting duty."

"I'd say count your blessings; do you know how much I'd give to have a shot at taking down a cult?" Ilga's dark green eyes looked wistfully off into the air. "Just think of all the weird and wonderful lore that's probably hidden behind this whole "Dark Star" business!"

"About that," said Tolas. "Don't mention the Dark Star or the cult to anyone if you can help it. Sir Eglamore says that we don't want to cause a panic in the city."

"Why would they panic?"

"It's because of all the other cultists that were arrested," explained Tolas. "There was a pattern: they were all homeless, outcasts, or..." he hesitated, "...half-breeds."

Ilga understood. "You mean like all the people who have been disappearing lately?"

"Exactly. It seems these people were running away to join this cult, although most of them are still unaccounted for; who knows where they are now, or what they're doing in the name of the Dark Star?"

"Tolas!" came a voice. "Come along, lad!"

A clanking of plate mail accompanied the voice, signalling the approach of Sir Eglamore, a tall human man with broad musculature gone slightly to seed, his face possessed of many lines and an impressive moustache. He signalled to the guards of the estate, who opened the gate without question.

"I have to go. Thanks for waiting with me, Ilga."

"No problem," she said, shaking Tolas' bronze-skinned hand with her larger, grey-green one. "Have fun with the babysitting."

Tolas frowned at her good-naturedly before trotting off to catch up with Sir Eglamore. As the two of them made their way through the estate towards the eastern tower, Tolas brought up his concerns to his mentor, who scoffed.

"It is hardly "babysitting," Tolas. The girl came of age recently, mere months after you did so yourself. Plus, you know each other, do you not?"

"I've met her maybe twice, I know nothing about her," Tolas grumbled.

"Then you should remedy that," said Sir Eglamore, suddenly sounding gravely serious. "With her mother in custody, Amber Moonward is the sole heir to her house. Donna Moonward may have shared her beliefs and schemes with her daughter; anything that she might know about this "Dark Star" and what her mother might have been planning would be valuable information to us."

"Why not just take her in for questioning as well?" said Tolas.

"Are we not? We have confined Amber Moonward to her home until further notice, and you are to gather information from her. Besides," the knight added, "if she is as deeply involved with this cult as her mother is, then we should keep them as far apart as possible. Who knows what they might be capable of if they had a chance to conspire?"

"And what if she isn't involved and doesn't know anything?"

"Then, you will be keeping a young lady, with a recently arrested mother, safe from any potential harm that may come from being the sole heir of her estate."

"So, "babysitting," then," said Tolas bluntly.

Sir Eglamore chuckled in spite of himself. "In as much as bodyguard duty is, yes."

They stood before the entrance to the east tower, two guards in house livery standing on either side of the doorway. Sir Eglamore patted Tolas on the shoulder. "Do not fret, my boy. All of this will only last until the trial, and given the situation, it should not be too long."

Tolas gripped the scabbard of his sword tightly with his off hand to stop his frustration from showing on his face. "As you say, Sir."

With a nod, Sir Eglamore turned and walked away, leaving Tolas to ascend the staircase of the tower. With each step up the spiralling passage, he contemplated how he might question the younger Lady Moonward about her mother's conspiracy. The more he thought about this posting, the more absurd it seemed to him.

"This is ridiculous," Tolas muttered to himself. "What am I supposed to say? "Hello, remember me, we saw each other at the ball a couple of times, oh, by the way, I had a dagger at your mother's neck last night, could you tell me everything you know about her insane cult?" That'll go down well."

Tolas paused as he reached the door to the chamber at the top of the tower. It had been delicately carved with the emblem of House Moonward and accented with floral patterns around the frame. Taking a deep breath, Tolas knocked. There was no response from inside. Tolas knocked again, with the same result. He tried the latch; it stuck for a moment, but with a firm push, the door swung open, and Tolas poked his head inside.

The room was typical of a high born lady. Lavish tapestries and curtains covered the walls, an ornate vanity with three polished silver mirrors sat in the corner next to a dressing screen, and a massive four-poster bed with beautiful draperies dominated the other side of the chamber near the window.

Upon the bed lay Amber Moonward, her eyes closed, her robes gathered around her waist, and her fingers were furiously working in and out of her pussy with her legs spread wide. Her dark hair splayed across the pillows behind her, and her lips were slightly parted in ecstasy as her breaths came short and fast.

Tolas did a double-take, stumbling through the door and into a nearby side table, tripping over his own feet and clattering loudly to the floor.

Amber's eyes shot open at the sound, and she squealed in surprise, hurriedly drawing her legs closed and scrabbling to pull the bedclothes over herself. Reaching under her pillows, she withdrew an expensively forged dagger and aimed it at Tolas' prone body.

"Who are you?!" she cried, her voice squeaking through her breathlessness. "What are you doing here?!"

"Peace, Lady Moonward!" said Tolas, holding up his hands as he shifted up onto his knees. "I'm Tolas, Sir Eglamore's squire. I've been sent here as your retainer."

"How did you get in here? The door was locked!" said Amber.

"It... wasn't?" said Tolas.

Amber glanced between Tolas and the door, then lowered the dagger and placed a palm over her face. "Dammit, not again..." She sighed into her hand. "I told Mother to have that lock changed; it's been doing that for months!" She glared at Tolas from between her fingers. "Next time, announce yourself properly before you barge into a lady's room like that!"

"I knocked," mumbled Tolas, standing up and straightening his sword belt. "Apologies, my lady," he said louder. "Had I known that you were... "busy," I would have come back later."

Amber's cheeks turned pink, and she wrapped her robes around her a little tighter, staring at Tolas in silent fury for a few moments. He could see that Amber had inherited much of her face from her mother; they had the same piercing dark eyes and pale skin. Amber's jawline was slightly rounder, less angular, and less intimidating than Donna's, and her hair was a deep, dark brown compared to the elder Lady Moonward's midnight tresses.

She peered closer at Tolas. "You look familiar. Have we met somewhere?"

"In passing, yes," said Tolas. "I have attended several noble functions with Sir Eglamore; he introduced me to you and your mother once or twice."

"Oh right!" said Amber, snapping her fingers. "I remember now; you're that half-breed squire that everyone talks about!"

Tolas bristled a little. "Everyone...?"

"Well, when a respected knight of the Arbiter like Sir Eglamore takes on a squire with dragon blood, it's going to turn a few heads in the court," said Amber with a wave of her hand, as though it was obvious. "They thought the novelty would have worn off by now, but I guess he hasn't gotten rid of you yet."

"Novelty?" said Tolas through gritted teeth. "I've been Sir Eglamore's squire for seven years!"

"Which only makes it all the more astounding, wouldn't you say?" said Amber. "Surely, you know what the usual reaction to half-dragons is in the Empire?"

"I'm well aware." Tolas kept his voice as low and deadpan as possible to avoid exploding with rage.

"But I suppose if you're still here, there have to be exceptions after all," said Amber. She shifted off the bed; Tolas caught a brief glimpse of bare, slender legs as she alighted to the floor. Amber approached him slowly with a growing curiosity in her eyes. "So... Tolas, was it? Tell me: is it true that half-dragons have scales on their bodies?"

Whether it was tact or self-awareness that she was lacking, Tolas couldn't believe the frankness of Amber's question. "Yes," was all the answer he felt obliged to give.

Amber ran her eyes up and down Tolas' fit, trained body, as though she were trying to gaze right through his tunic and breeches. "Really? Whereabouts?"

"Excuse me?"

"Can I see them?"

Tolas blinked. "Are... are you seriously asking me that?"

Amber bit her lip and smiled cheekily. "Well, you've already some of my most intimate parts, so it's only fair, isn't it?" She was standing right in front of him now; she reached up a finger and slowly stroked it down the centre of his chest.

Tolas grabbed her wrist, perhaps a little harder than he might usually have done. "This... is hardly... appropriate... my lady," he growled, biting off his words pointedly.

Amber's cheeky smile grew wider. "Ooh, so you do have some balls! Do you have scales on those too?"

Tolas shoved her hand away and stomped over to the window, taking in deep breaths through his nose to try and calm the fury building in his guts. Amber stepped closer. "What's the matter? Scared of me? I thought dragons were the scary ones!"

Tolas halted her with a finger pointed at her face. "Stop," Tolas said in his low voice. "Stop right now. I am not some exotic plaything for you to enjoy. I am a squire of the Knighthood of Justice, assigned to watch and protect you. I am required to show you respect, and I would expect you to show it in kind. Or are you every bit as dishonourable and treacherous as your mother?"

The smug confidence on Amber's face drained away, replaced with a quivering lip and furious eyes. "How dare you," she whispered. "My mother is the wisest, noblest person in the entire empire, and she certainly has more honour than a low-born half-breed like you! You wouldn't be worthy enough for her to spit on in the street!"

"Really?" said Tolas. "Then explain what she was doing in the tunnels beneath the city last night, conspiring with the low-born and rejects of society was. Because to hear her talk, she would have considered them equals, comrades in a rebellion against -"

"No! You're lying!" shouted Amber, balling her fists. "She would never!"

"I was there!" Tolas shot back. "I brought her to the ground myself and had her arrested! She surrendered under the threat of my blade!"

Amber let out an incoherent scream and ran at Tolas, hands raised and aimed at his face. He caught her wrists, and was surprised at her strength; despite having a slim frame, Amber fought in his grasp with enough force that Tolas had to brace his legs to prevent her from pushing him out the window. Shoving back, Tolas managed to wrestle Amber towards the bed and pin her hands down above her head; he quickly brought his knees up onto the mattress to avoid her kicking legs, and shift his weight to keep her in place.

"Enough!" Tolas said sternly. "What do you know about the Dark Star?"

Amber squirmed beneath him, froze momentarily, then reached up with her mouth and kissed Tolas firmly on the lips.

The young squire pulled back in surprise, which was enough for Amber to get her hands free and immediately clutch the back of his head, pulling him in closer. Tolas could feel her tongue probing, trying to enter his mouth, but as he tried to disentangle himself, Amber wrapped her legs around his waist and held him in place.