Dragon Choir (24 page)

An oar bumped
into a shark floating dead on the surface. All around the boat dead
fish floated belly up. The Lord must have his sacrifices. Nothing
given, nothing gained.

Pelegrin
pitched the oars in deep strokes and marvelled at the strength in
his arms and back. The boat charged through the water, its bow
cutting an easy path to the distant shore. Uighara rested at the
stern, dipping his hand in the water as they went, praying with a
rhythm that spurred Pelegrin on. A swathe of silver scales bobbed
in their wake.

By the time
the boat pulled in to the docks of Rum Hill, dusk crept upon the
sky. They disembarked while the western sky burned with the dying
glow of the setting sun, shedding enough light to witness the ruins
of his finest marines strewn across the docks. The rebel forces and
the drakkin were no longer present. The survivors dragged bodies
into neat rows where the day’s heat had already ripened the dead
enough for summer flies to take upon them.

Pelegrin’s
strength faded; this defeat was avoidable. Complacency had
determined the outcome, not numbers, skill, weaponry, or any other
factor. He might have let the rats into the hold, but he would sink
every last ship they took before they had a chance to ambush him
again. Determination lit a fire in his belly, melting away the
leaden cloak of his failure. The Commodore hooked on his sabre and
scabbard, bolstered by its weight at his side once again. Iron in
hand, he’d cast the rebels to all the hells. They’d feel the full
wrath of the Lord’s armada.

Pelegrin
adjusted his uniform; it was in a sad state with buttons missing
and bloodstains. He neatened it and rolled back his shoulders,
lifting his chin. With a purpose in his stride he approached a
marine kneeling beside a fallen comrade in the assembly of bodies.
His uniform was ragged and a long cut had torn through his padded
jack leaving a weeping open gash.

“
Who is in command?” asked Pelegrin.

“
Sir!” The marine rose to attention, after a moment of
recognition. “Nobody, sir!”

“
Nobody?”

“
The rebels took all our officers, sir. Left us alone if we
gave up our weapons and surrendered.”

“
Is this all that remain?”

“
Some have left with the enemy, sir. Most of us who can walk
are trying to lay the dead ready for the Priest’s words this
evenin’.”

“
Brother Demnirin?” asked Uighara.

“
Yeah, that’s him.”

Uighara dug
into one of his pouches, paying more attention to the line of dead
bodies than the marine. “Is he at the temple?”

“
Think so, he’s been tending the wounded.”

Uighara marked
the four points of the black star in the air. “Go with the Lord’s
blessings, my child.”

The marine
bowed to Uighara. “Thank you, Brother.” He saluted Pelegrin,
stretching his chest wound in the process, wincing with pain.

Uighara led
the way to the temple, the streets a hazard of filth and sin. The
Good Lord’s children made their way to the temple while the lost
and damned gathered to drink and gamble, likely accomplishing worse
debauchery as the dark night took the town.

Folk of both
faith and sin made way, for their mission was blessed by the Lord.
No one would stand in their path. Pelegrin saw it in the wide eyes
of the people staring at them. The Lord was calling. He would
deliver them to certain victory.

The temple was
a humble stone structure at the top of a small rise. It faced the
ramshackle town of Rum Hill with a stoic, gumption. The gable roof
pointed to the heavens like an arrowhead, reminding the town that
the Lord was watching. Heavy studded timber doors hung open for the
evening service, welcoming townsfolk to pray.

Pelegrin took
the temple steps in long strides past the faithful, lining up to
cleanse their grubby hands and dirty faces. Pelegrin’s own hands
were filthy with the mistakes of the long day. Uighara motioned to
an acolyte who brought them black glazed bowls filled with blessed
water. As they knelt and cleansed their hands then faces, they
prayed together, Uighara’s dark accent and rough tones abrasive
against Pelegrin’s refined, precise voice. “Wash the sins of the
day, O’Lord, take my hands. See the face of my faith, O’Lord, take
my love.”

The acolyte
removed the cleansing bowls and emptied the tainted water down a
sluice where it drained into a fishpond, teeming with silver perch
and lilies, closing their petals for the night. With a bow to
Uighara, the acolyte ushered them through the arch and into the
temple.

In front of
the altar knelt a man, his head dipped in prayer. Uighara strode
down the aisle, past odd looks and sharp whispers. Pelegrin was
uncomfortable in temples at the best of time and as he followed
Uighara through the nave, he sensed the eyes of the congregation
like they were the Lord’s jury, critiquing his very soul. This was
not the best day to receive such a review. Everyone in town would
know by now. All hells knew, word of his defeat would be half way
to Jando. The bright new Commodore lost his fleet to the rebels.
There was a light tittering in the wings, he was a laughing stock.
They wouldn’t be laughing when he paraded the Scrambletoes to the
chopping block; he’d be the pride of the Lord’s chosen.

The priest
finished his prayer with hands to the heavens and rose before the
altar, turning just as Uighara and Pelegrin came to the
crossing.

“
Brother Uighara! Commodore! The Lord has blessed
us.”

“
Brother Demnirin,” Uighara ever so slightly inclined his
head.

Demnirin came
to Uighara and kissed his outstretched hand before marking the sign
of the black star. “I was just praying for your souls and the Good
Lord sends you here. I was told they took all of the officers, how
did you escape? Do you require healing?”

“
Calm yourself, Brother, we have little time and need to
return to the High Temple.”

“
We have only a mule, though there are two rounseys for sale
with old man Carter. I’ll send fo—”

“
Take me to your temple stone,” interrupted
Uighara.

“
Of course, but shouldn’t I send for the horses
first?”

“
They won’t be needed,” Uighara’s harsh tone rasped at
Demnirin’s good intentions.

“
Follow me then,” Demnirin took them up a step and behind the
pulpit. A circular tile mosaic, rich in detail, covered the stone
floor. Black, blue and purple tiles marked out the points of the
black star. At one point stood the altar, the opposite point the
pulpit. The two remaining points led to stairs on either side for
the congregation’s procession each service. A sea of green and
yellow tiles surrounded the star and the temple stone lay in the
very centre, polished by an age of hands seeking blessings of the
Lord. The idea of that very stone once gracing the most hallowed
temple in his ancestral homeland filled the Commodore with awe.
Saint Jan took the temple stones in the great exodus, carrying them
across raging oceans, battling demons and tempests, guided by the
black star and his faith in the Lord. The stones were a foundation
that connected the faithful to their roots and from each stone the
chosen would build a new temple for the Lord.

Kneeling to
the temple stone, Uighara emptied the meagre contents of a pouch
into his palm and closed his hand into a fist, muttering in a low
voice. Demnirin’s welcome faded as he watched Uighara dwell on the
stone, sorting through the ritual components.

“
Brother Uighara, we must go now,” Pelegrin gave Demnirin an
apologetic shrug. “We waste time here and the good priest needs to
begin the evening prayers.”

“
I will lead the congregation this evening,” said Uighara,
rising to his feet, returning something to a pouch. “I will redeem
their sins for the Lord.”

“
If that is your wish,” Demnirin’s joy at their arrival
diminished with each word from Uighara. “Though if you are in a
hurry to get to Jando, it would be easier if I led the—”

“
Gather your congregation, Brother Demnirin.”

Demnirin
hesitated, watching Uighara untying another pouch. “What are you
planning? These are good people.”

“
Then there is nothing to worry about, Brother.” Uighara’s
greased smile polluted his face. “Now make haste, the dark star is
risen.”

Demnirin
hurried off to help the acolytes cleanse the last of the
congregation before the service. Uighara emptied reddish glittering
sand from his pouch, making a circle around the temple stone. He
deftly made an arcane symbol at each point of the black star and
muttered to himself while he checked over his work.

“
Stand on the temple stone, Commodore. One foot on it and one
foot off, but not outside the circle.”

“
Why are we wasting our time here for an elaborate
blessing?”

“
Because the Lord wants you to command the armada,” Uighara
licked his thumb and dipped it into his pouch. It came out
glimmering red and he dabbed it on Pelegrin’s forehead, his chin
and each cheek, muttering as he did so. He swapped hands and
repeated the pattern on his own face. “Do you want to command the
armada, Commodore? Do you want to avenge the souls of your
men?”

“
Yes, but how—”

“
Do as I say,”

Pelegrin did
so, careful not to step on any of the powder. He didn’t want to
foul the blessing. The armada, under his command! By the Lord if he
convinced his father of the threat it might just be possible. He
might have lost a few ships, but that was a small price to pay for
finding the Scrambletoes and crushing the rebellion. “Admiral,”
said Pelegrin, enjoying the sound as it rolled off his tongue.

Uighara took a
tiny white component from a pouch, a tooth perhaps, and bent his
head in prayer. He brought his hands together, elbows on the
pulpit, forehead resting on his interlocked fingers. A warm glow
emanated from his praying hands and grew to encompass him in a
golden aura.

Pelegrin
waited in position to receive the redeemer’s blessing. He’d been
warned by his father not to trust him; though the same was said
about all converts. Pelegrin trusted the High Priest and he said
that any poacher outcast from Calimska was the Lord’s gift to
Jando. That sat fine with him. Uighara might be an arse of a man
sometimes, but he was raised in Calimska. What more could be
expected? Uighara had found his faith; devout to the Lord and loyal
to the High Priest, so devout that Pelegrin’s own faith was pale in
comparison.

Leaving that
young acolyte behind was a good thing too. Now, Uighara was focused
on the task at hand. Pelegrin knew redeemers had strange secret
rituals to train acolytes in the ways of the Lord’s gift, but there
was something unusual with that one. The boy never said a word and
shadowed Uighara everywhere. There was a determination in Uighara’s
eye since their capture, a fresh drive. Things were falling
together. Soon, Jando would have another victory. They had faith,
they had the armada, and they had the location of the outlaws that
plagued the chosen.

Uighara
finished his prayer and rang a small bell on the pulpit. His aura
radiated warmth around his white robes. He was the sun breaching
the clouds. As he spoke, the congregation hushed their amazed
whispers and listened to his reassuring voice. His usual voice of
gravel and tar was reborn in velvet, deep and consuming.

“
The Lord welcomes you! Gather unto our Lord!”

“
We hear the word of the Lord,” responded the congregation in
unison.

“
Brother Demnirin, your good priest, prayed for me this eve.
He also prayed for the son of the Lord’s High Admiral, Commodore
Pelegrin. The power of his prayer so great, so endowed with faith,
it summoned us here this night. Here we stand blessed by the Lord,
alive, ready to preach the word, to redeem the sins of the land, to
cast the blight off with blade and faith.”

The
congregation sounded its agreement, calling out ‘blessed be’ and
‘preach the word’.

“
The Lord has blessed me with a gift, the gift of redemption
in his almighty name. I was born of sin and he raised me up. He
showed me truth: Nothing for nothing, dear folk of faith; sin for
salvation. I sacrificed my sins and he bore me up with a commanding
faith, a sanctified purpose and a deep and pure urgency for his
love. Do you feel that love? Do you have that purpose, that
faith?”

The
congregation called their assent. Pelegrin knew his love for the
Lord and called with them, his heart pounding with faith. “I feel
it!”

“
Good! The Lord knows your love and he has brought us here
together today to witness a miracle. An angel of the Lord has
spoken to me! He gave me a message and a mission. The Lord is
coming. He will return and grant his faithful life eternal. Let the
black star swallow our sin and purify our soul!”

“
Praise be!” called the congregation.

“
Do you have sins in your hearts you want gone?”

“
Yes!”

“
Do you have doubts you want to cast aside?”

“
Yes!”

“
Then you must give of yourself unto the Lord!”

The aura
around Uighara pulsed with the energy of the congregation. The
white of his robes shone upon the joyful faces of the congregation,
raising their hands to heaven, asking for their sins to be redeemed
and replaced with the Lord’s love. Demnirin stood at the back of
the pews, his face dour, unengaged by the blessed energy that
buzzed in the air. He was a black rock and Uighara a diamond.
Pelegrin forgave Brother Demnirin his jealousy. Joy wrapped its
splendour around him and nothing else mattered.