Dragons of a Dark God

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. The thought echoed coldly in Jehanne’s mind as she regarded the athame in her hands. A simple ritual, the agony of rejected bonds, and then she and the dragons would be gone from this valley and it's endless needs for good. The drip, drip, dripping of her blood from the tip of the ceremonial dagger sounded through the cavernous Hidden Sanctuary of the Dark God. She had already known what He was going to tell her, but the temptation to end this all instead of passing her burden to another was overwhelming. He would leave the choice to her, as always, but He had been clear about His wishes.

He had been clear about His wishes. How many times had she begged for guidance? How many times had she puzzled through his endless riddles and meandering stories to hopefully act in such a way that the valley she judged would crawl from the miry depths of iniquity into a land where the tragedy of her life would hopefully never repeat itself? How many times had she wept and screamed into the dark, begging for a clear strategy? How many lives had she ruined with her clumsy efforts to reform their society all alone? Yet now, when His wishes meant the twilight of her life, now He is clear?

Her hand gripped the athame tighter as her breaths came closer and closer together. A scream built in her throat. A gust of warm mist displaced her braid from her shoulder, and a scaly nose nearly knocked her from her feet. Alaric, the first dragon she had called to her at the Dark God’s behest - the only dragon she was truly destined to bond - kept up his badgering until she laid the athame carefully upon the black marble altar. She threw a tired half-smile his way and wrapped a bit of cloth she’d set aside for this purpose around her opposite palm.

A prickle of sensation across her olive skin had her looking up toward unnaturally lit gazes that watched her every move as she piously cleaned the seven-pointed star made of chalk and her own blood that allowed her to communicate with her Lord from the altar. Six of the seven dragons had been slumbering through her commune with the One she served, but the extreme emotion tied to her grim considerations must have roused them.

“Allow an old woman a moment of weakness, will you?” Her words were empty. She and the dragons knew that she was burning out from being bonded to too many. An echo of understanding reverberated down her link to the beasts, with the exception of Maud. Her connection had always been the most tenuous with Jehanne. Their natures were too unaligned for a peaceful attachment, and it was as though Maud, of all of the beasts, knew that she had been meant for a bond with another. Well, soon enough, Jehanne thought gravely.

Her steps echoed in the enormous, secret cavern as she circled the monolith so dark that it seemed to absorb the light around it. Jehanne had first arrived here a century before, as a young woman of twenty, and the ritual that bonded her to the dragons had frozen her in that body. Time should have softened the rage, fear, and desperation that had brought her to this place, but the weight of the burden the Dark God had asked of her, the unchanging reflection of a woman desperate to avenge her sister, kept her terror fresh. She knew what the valley would descend back into without the dragons, just as she knew where it was destined if she did not pass the bonds to the Seven Chosen in time. Not for the first time, she wondered if her century-long sacrifice was worth the cost.

The dragons followed her journey through the tallest mountain that surrounded the valley. She emerged an hours’ walk from the High Temple and made her way to the place with a determined stride as seven dragons took flight overhead.

“You shall find the first in the Temple, praying for wisdom. She will be marked with my sigil, and she must follow you to your home.” Jehanne was not so far gone that she could not be at least a little thankful for the clear message, so uncharacteristic of the deity she served. Jehanne, the Lady Keeper, was so very weary. She was unsure that she had the strength of mind to sort through the Dark God’s usual winding path. The Seven Chosen would rarely find His guidance quite so direct. Praying for wisdom indeed.

The path through the cool forest leading from the tallest mountain to the High Temple was much smoother now than it had been when Jehanne had first found her way to the Hidden Sanctuary. She forcefully pushed the memories of her clumsy trek over rocks and through shrubs, sobbing, sobbing, screaming, and vomiting. Alaric swooped low overhead, the gravel of building fire grumbling in his throat. Jehanne stopped and took a deep breath, holding it before releasing it again, again. This is why it must happen now.

The path through the forest showed more signs of civilization as she traveled through the woods. Small houses showed through gaps in the forest. The smell of chimney smoke and livestock mixed with the smell of forest floor mulch and rain. Soon, she knew she would hear children marvel at the great beasts who soared through the sky, whispered prayers to the Dark God, and gasps from those who were made nervous by the harbingers of justice.

“Lady Keeper,” a quiet, somber greeting came from a priest as he began walking along her left side.

“It is time.” Jehanne rarely wasted words and saw no wisdom in making exceptions now. She secretly thrilled at the fumble in the unflappable priest’s steps. In the thirty years he had served, she did not think she had ever seen him stumble.

“You are quite certain?” he lunged in front of her, stopping her progress. His floppy brown hair began to stick to his scalp, his skin began to pale.

A chorus of rumbles erupting too close above them betrayed Jehanne’s delay in calming the sharp spike of ire in her chest at the boy’s disrespect. The Lady Keeper drew her hood over her black hair, cinched her eyes shut, and took a deep breath, exhaling the thoughts of being twice this brat’s age and how terribly frightening it must be for him as she faced the death that would follow the rise of new Chosen. If his slight stumble had given her a secret thrill, his robed ass hitting the ground just as she reopened her eyes made her swallow a giggle.

“Aren’t I just?” she answered in her quiet way, gesturing at the restless beasts that grew closer, closer.

“Lady Keeper,” he bashfully straightened his robes, shaking the red dust from the gray material, “I hardly know what to say.”

“I cannot say whether the day when your mild impertinence results in seven dragons spewing righteous fire at you is weeks from now or months from now, but unjustly vicious consequences are nigh, Priest.” Jehanne continued forward, leaving the man to dart out of her path, “We can only hope I have not waited too long as it is. Keepers are not intended to rely solely on their own judgment, as we have often discussed.”

There were a few blessed moments of silence as they navigated the ever busier route to the High Temple. Just after the guards at the gate of the city-proper greeted the Lady Keeper with the utmost respect, the priest humbly requested guidance from the voice of his God on earth.

“Prepare the proper lodgings for the true Keepers. While they are still Chosen, they are likely to be traveling extensively, but…” she trailed off as a cluster of worshippers paid their respects on the High Temple steps. With a gesture of silence, she led the priest to her sacristy. The sacred space was only entered with her express invitation. “Despite your behavior while you were shocked, you have always been an excellent priest. One of the truly neutral, in my experience. You should know that not all priests have been able to find that balance. Not all of the valley has accepted the accountability brought by the dragons. Many would see the Chosen eliminated and the dragons dormant once more.”

“I am not ignorant to the motivations of those who would thwart the Dark God, Lady Keeper. I am not blind to how easily our position as resources to the faithful could be transitioned into power over them. I only ask you how I may serve.” The priest’s voice was tight with emotion. His devotion truly was to their mysterious deity.

“Discretion, Priest. Prepare the way for the chosen quietly, and alone. And quickly. You saw what happened today. He does not plan to wait until the corruption erodes my balance. He will reveal the seven quickly, and if we can keep history from repeating itself these Chosen will remain for seven centuries. Hopefully, they will do what my cohort should have: see this valley prosper peacefully for all of its people.” Jehanne traded her traveling cloak for her High Temple garments thoughtfully, adding with a whisper “and I will finally rest. Now, the first is here and I must locate her.”

“Her, Lady Keeper?” The priest’s voice was choked thin by the weight of Jehanne’s words.

“Hmmm, perhaps.” the Lady Keeper smiled wryly, “that is my suspicion, anyway.”

The dragons had assumed their perches in the seven soaring wooden arches near the absurdly high ceiling of the sanctuary. The faithful prayed in hushed murmurs scattered about the smooth, light wooden pews. They prayed for justice, glory, direction, and in a hoarse whisper, a young woman prayed for wisdom.

“Dark God, I beg of you. Grant me the wisdom to know the cost. Grant me the wisdom to choose the path. Grant me the wisdom to…” her whisper died on a sniffle.

Embarrassed and a bit humbled she sat back in the pew she occupied alone to breathe. In a practiced attempt to regain her composure she arranged her long, tawny hair over her shoulders and used delicate fingers to swipe an errant tear from her freckled cheek. A series of quick blinks and a glance toward the dragons who never failed to awe her quelled additional moisture from escaping her jade eyes. Her glance turned into an absolutely frozen stare as a dragon’s backlit gaze fell squarely on her face. The breath in her lungs was held captive. Her heart beat loudly in her ears. Her body felt as though something was lit inside of it, burning, burning. The sensation gathered suddenly at the point of her brow, just above her eyes, culminating in a spark of pain that broke her unending stare into the dragon’s eyes.

“Darkness take it!” she snapped under her breath, pressing the fingertips of her right hand to the injury that inspired the curse. Very faintly she could feel something new on her skin.

“The Darkness is taking you, I’m afraid.” a calm, even voice startled the woman.

“La-Lady Keeper!” she sputtered, frantically dipping her head in respect.

“Come,” The Lady Keeper responded, leaving the young woman scrambling to collect her belongings and follow. The Lady Keeper was far enough away by the time she was able to stand that her quiet request for the young woman’s name was almost lost to the background noise of the faithful’s prayers.

“Magge, Lady Keeper.” Oh, but she desperately wished her response sounded more reverent and less flustered.

“Call me Jehanne.” The command was simple, as though it was not the first time Jehanne had given someone leave to use her name in one hundred years. As though Magge knew her name and had chosen the honorific casually.

“Jehanne?” Magge began clumsily, “You spoke of the Darkness taking me. I am-” she couldn’t seem to complete the thought, and a sharp look from the Lady Keeper stymied her effort. Only the sound of their footsteps sounded through the wooden floors of the High Temple.

Above them, rustling signaled the departure of a number of the dragons as they flew further into the grounds, intuiting Jehanne’s destination. The women walked through long hallways, finally exiting an enormous door out into the rapidly cooling evening air. Shrub-lined cobblestone pathways led to what Magge knew to be priest dwellings, classrooms, healing centers, and meeting rooms. On they walked until the cobblestones became packed, red earth and the shrubs became well-tended flowering herbs and then taller, towering trees. At the very end of the pathway stood a small, thatch-roofed cabin. Jehanne produced a key from her robes, using it to open a creaking door. She stood patiently as Magge stared calculatingly at her outstretched arm, a clear invitation into her home.

“What happens if I come inside your home, Lady Keeper?” the question sat uncomfortably in the waning light. Magge dared not accuse Jehanne of anything, but she did dare flirt with the implication.

“Perhaps the Dark God has already granted you some of that wisdom you begged for, Magge.” Jehanne’s voice was wry, if not a little warm, “Never enter a door without knowing what pact you’ve agreed to. Very wise indeed. Unfortunately, the door won’t save you from what you’ve consented to.” In an absurd contradiction to her solemn, reserved demeanor, Jehanne poked Magge in the forehead.

“Ow!” Magge stepped backward, quickly dispersing the gravitas she had so carefully gathered on the trip to the cabin.

“You asked for wisdom. The Dark God has carved you with His sigil. He will grant you the wisdom you seek, and you, in turn, have been marked Chosen.” Jehanne finally ushered the girl into her home and lit the lamps in her quiet way as she continued, “Complete your journey as a Chosen, and you will become one of the Seven Keepers.”

Stunned to true silence, Magge allowed her eyes to be drawn to the open window as a great, dark shape arranged itself comfortably outside the cabin. After a time, a green-lit stare met Magge's for an endless moment.

“Ah, Maude.” Jehanne mused, “I should have known the most unstable of my bonds would be the first to find a true connection. This may buy us some time, yet!”