Gambit of Eldargarrd

Hypnotic sounds of trilling insects rose and crashed like ocean waves, unseen in the dense fog of Forbudt Mørkskov. Pinpricks of brilliant yellow light flashed. Randomly at first, then slowly synchronized as the Ildflue started their mating ritual. Cracking timber echoed off the valley walls in attempts to betray that which would stalk unwelcome visitors. Oskar Kætter and his boy, Magnus, were those unwelcome visitors.

Oskar made no concessions this night to the days of yore. No traditional garb, no crystals around his neck, blessed by Troldmænd, or those posing as such. Not a mystic rune in sight, save the small tattoo for ‘eternal love’ his wife insisted they both get. Just a Royal guard and his boy on a quest to change how many would feel about the Æther.

The old ways insinuated their way into politics through tradition and resilient elders that refused to let them die. They burrowed deeply into every facet of society, but slowly, over the millennia, their teeth had begun to rot, and their bite began to soften. He understood the desire to retain history but, fueled by enduring pain, knew the archaic rituals of a thousand generations past were fading. Change was needed, and change would come tonight.

His task was clear. The mission righteous. Oskar had petitioned the council for the honor of tonight’s pledge. For him, the pledge would be a cold walk in a dark forest with his only son fidgeting relentlessly, strapped on his back. For his son, he was sure it would be nothing more than a strange late-night trudge in a stinky swamp brimming with fireflies. For the rest of civilization, however, the events of tonight’s pledge would forever change perceptions.

It can be scary, walking so far into the forbidden forest, even if it’s on Papa’s back. Oskar made a game of it to keep the boy calm. Oskar was adept at games, and Magnus wasn’t the only one he played with. The High Council was his primary playmate.

Playing the game was as much an art as it was a science. Get what you need through ring-kissing and genuflecting rather than protest or force. No one wanted another civil war. Just change. Words bore more strength than action in most cases, but tonight was indeed a call to action.

“I’ve got multiple hits on thermals. Most are too small to be a threat,” he relayed back to Corbin at their base.

The walkie chirped. “Proceed with caution. Latest intel suggests some targets are cloaked from thermals.”

“You don’t have to be so dramatic, Corbin. You can just say cold-blooded.” Oskar huffed at his second-in-command’s by-the-book radio chatter as he let off the transmit button.

Corbin had been his first officer since before Magnus was born. The two men had grown close and shared many ideologies and political plans. Tonight’s mission goal would be the culmination of years of planning. Having a true friend he could confide in and count on was a respite from the turmoil haunting his broken soul.

The full moon fought the fog to peek in on occasion, but the foul scenery afforded by the light was no less unwelcome than they were. Oskar crafted a comical dirge about dead trees and smelly mud to distract and entertain his boy. His boots squelched in the thickening, putrid mud of the forest and added a rhythm to his song.

“Are we nearly there, papa? I have to make wee.” Magnus boxed his father’s ears as he tried to gain attention.

“Almost, lad. Just a bit further, and we can both have a wee.”

The slow pace gave him time to reflect on the days leading up to that night.

***

The world has become a complicated place. The veiled fabric of observable harmony that came after the last great war was starting to tear at the seams. Concessions were made on both sides, and for two-hundred seasons those sacrifices were tenable. A blend of sorcery, alchemy, and computer sciences worked as a compromise until it simply didn’t. This last generation sought to embrace the coming technologies. Attempts to explain away the effects of magic with studies in chemistry, astronomy, and quantum mechanics quickly became a source of blasphemy to the elders of the High Council. Sanctions were placed with the intent to slow the progress of technology. This did not go over well with many citizens, especially those who embrace science.

Magic is magic. A gift from the Gods. Science is what a feeble human mind will leverage in attempts to become the God he denies.

Society was fractured yet again. Loddants rejected what they saw as black magic (science), and the Purvaynoirs turned their back on the blind faith in enchantment. Magic’s effects may be real, but there has always been a scientific reason for it. So believed the Purvanyoirs. The two clashed at every turn, protests fell on deaf ears. If the liberties afforded the Purvanyoirs were not sufficient, they would be repealed. Civil war was indeed brewing, and without a grand act, it would come sooner rather than later.

“Esteemed members of the Council of Eldargarrd, I stand before you today to request indulgence in an attempt to disprove a negative.” Oskar stood in the great marble hall. The ring of elders sat in elevated positions of supreme authority atop gilded thrones of marble. The domed ceiling was adorned with frescoes of millennia past. Sword-wielding, armored men atop exaggerated, muscular steeds slicing their way through hordes of Orcs and various other heretics. The Great War of Olaf. The Grand Reset. Oskar suppressed his true feelings. Genocide.

“One can neither prove nor disprove a negative, Chief Constable Kætter.” The response was as expected from the Grand Master of the council. “Your hubris intrigues me, though. Continue your quixotic request.”

Oskar’s words were chosen with great care and forethought to appeal to the Grand Master’s pride. “Your grace, we stand poised at the precipice of conflict the likes of which we have not seen since the Great War,” Oskar raised an arm to reference the artwork above. “Our society has subsisted on the freedom to believe in whichever path suits the individual, be that our enduring faith in magic or the nascent advent of hard science. The attempt to blend the two has suffered of late, and the rift between our peoples grows wider each day.”

“You propose some adventure to waylay this outcome? What is it you hope to disprove that will bring the masses back into order?” Another elder councilman interjected.

“ A fortnight hence is hædersløfte, the honor pledge, deep within the Forbidden Dark Forest.”

“The Council is aware of the ritual and its centennial occasion. What business do you intend to have with it?” spoke yet another elder.

“I seek The Council’s sanction to strengthen the tenuous bounds our people have on their faith in the elevated states of being. To return those lost to technology to the mysteries of magic and renew, nay, reset our fractured society before the tipping point crumbles beneath the weight of expectation.” Oskar’s impassioned pleas left the hall silent.

“And how, in disproving a negative, do you propose to accomplish this grandiose task?”

Oskar bowed his head and thought of his wife. Lost to him and their boy in childbirth not four years earlier. A mystic by her side serving as a midwife could only chant and attempt spells as she bled out in their bed. She needed a doctor. He knew it, and in the end, she knew it as well. Her faith forbade it, and she paid the ultimate price. That day changed Oskar forever.

With glassy eyes of sorrow, he raised his head and spoke with forked tongue. “Hædersløfte is widely accepted as myth. As a prominent public figure, the strengths of my convictions, my actions, will unite us all. I seek permission to pledge my only son as dragebåren.”

The silence of the hall erupted in gasps and murmurs, which Oskar knew to be opposition.

The Grand Master’s stone echoed in the voluminous hall as he rapped it on his marble throne. “Quiet, quiet, please. Chief Constable, no member of parliament, this council, or the Royal Guard has ever pledged a dragebåren for hædersløfte, and there’s a very good reason for that.”

“I am aware, sir.”

“This honor is best reserved for the common folk. In this way, they can enrich their relationship with the Æther and all that it offers. To allow a Royal Guard, especially of your stature, to—”

Oskar interjected at no small risk to himself, “If I may, your grace. As of yet, there are no voluntary pledges from any communities within our purview. Even the most devout Loddants have chosen to abstain.”

“Then one will be chosen by lottery, as the law decrees.” A portly elder spoke matter-of-factly, without hesitation.

There was a moment of silence. The Grand Master stroked his long, gray beard and spoke. “No, no, I don’t think we will. I see the constable’s angle here.”

“I’m afraid it is lost to me, Grand Master. Please enlighten me,” said the portly elder.

“Here is a man of import that has every reason to have lost his faith. A man who, so very painfully and publicly, had his faith challenged yet remains in the service of the Royal Guard. To willingly sacrifice his only child for the good of unity will speak volumes for the cause.”

Oskar bowed and spoke softly, “yes, for the cause.”

***

Dewy fog dissipated, and a clearing opened ahead. The full moon shone bright enough to illuminate the mossy stone beneath his feet. Oskar shrugged off his pack and set an impatient Magnus free.

The boy clomped on unsteady toddler feet to the edge of the clearing and pulled his tiny pants down to his ankles. “I can do it myself, Papa.”

Oskar smiled at his son’s independence. The radio hanging from his TAC gear chirped. “Go for Kætter”

“Corbin again, Chief. Go to twelve secure,” his first in command said.

Oskar cranked the dial to twelve and replied, “Secure on twelve.”

There was a delay before Corbin came back. “Sorry, Chief, I had to relocate to the SCIF so we can speak freely.”

“I appreciate the precautions, my friend, but believe me, We’ve thought of everything, planned for all contingencies. Tonight’s gambit will go exactly as planned, there’s something you can have faith in.” Oskar checked his map to verify their location.

“I’m worried about you and Magnus.” He spoke the words, but they sounded cold.

Oskar turned away from Magnus and spoke in hushed tones. “Well, you’re supposed to be. That’s the point, isn’t it? The world expects a dragon, that no one’s seen in a hundred seasons, to swoop down on leathery wings, gape its scaly maw, roast me in fiery death, then abscond with my boy. Why a centuries-old dragon needs a child is beyond ridiculous.”

“I can’t understand why the council allowed you to do this. Hell, why did I let you do this? You’re the only one holding this Guard together, regardless of how much faith you have in their magic.”

“It’s about control, my friend. We are beyond the point where a skeptical mind can be reeled back into the old ways. What little remains unexplained will soon fall to science’s reach, and The High Council knows they are losing their grasp on the populace. They don’t know any other way to exist. Without control, they wither like grapes on the vine and fade away into the annals of mythos. This is all a game to them. Remember that. How we play it will decide where we fit in.”

“I guess I don’t understand your endgame. You played them, yes, that much I get. You made them believe your faith was strong and that your sacrifice would keep them in control for at least another hundred years. But when no dragon comes, and you return with your son, you really expect they will just give in to the Purvaynoirs and embrace science?”

“You say that as if it were an easy thing to do,” Oskar snapped, “to manipulate men older than time itself. It’s not about what they do. Their control is granted to them by believers. This one act, by me, will show the world they serve as false Gods. They will lose that power, the power of blind faith.”

“I mean you no disrespect.” Corbin paused. “I understand how hard these last four years have been for you.”

Oskar’s blood began to boil. He stepped further away from where he’d sent Magnus to relieve himself. His volume and ire both raised. “No, friend, I don’t think you could ever understand. Until your wife dies in your arms as some old hag screeches at the ceiling with hands full of amethyst. Until you hold your newborn son, still warm with afterbirth, to your love’s cold, still breast. Until you endure four years of listening to those pious, self-righteous windbags sitting on their thrones of lies, praise you for keeping the faith when it takes all your strength to stop from slitting their ancient throats. Until you lie, every day, to your beautiful baby boy about the power of magic…”

Oskar’s repressed fury waned a moment when he thought of Magnus. He turned to check on him. When his eyes focused, he dropped the mic from his walkie-talkie. It dangled from his chest on a spiral cord.

“Papa. I’m scared,” said Magnus. He stood at the rim of the large flat mossy granite, his trousers still at his ankles.

How did I not hear that thing land?

“Don’t move, lad.” Despite all his years of training, he couldn’t stop shock from overwhelming him.

How can this be?

“Oskar? Chief, do you copy?” Corbin’s voice interrupted the moment of panic.

Oskar pressed the talk button but did not reply.

“That’s my boy right there,” he said with outreached hand and a quaver in his voice, “he’s all I’ve got.”

Oskar’s head swam in circles trying to make sense of what he saw. The last thing he expected to find in the Forbudt Mørkskov while pretending to bring his child for pledge to a mythical creature was the creature itself.

The radio crackled again. “Oskar, what is it? What’s happening? Who are you talking to?”

Oskar fumbled with the mic, depressed the button again, and said, “I was so wrong. Corbin, I was wrong. The dragon’s come for us.”

“I’m sorry, Oskar,” replied Corbin. “Forgive me.”

Forgive me?

The air became hot. Two fireflies grew into massive yellow eyes that glowed like the sun behind Magnus. Before he could muster a scream, an enormous mouth full of razor-sharp teeth spread open wide. A deep roar crept up the creature’s throat and ignited, sending white-hot fire across the clearing. In an instant, Magnus turned to ash. Oskar followed his son to join mother and wife.

***

Corbin’s boots echoed in the Great Hall as he approached the High Council of elders. They seemed not to pay him mind until he stopped and knelt before them.

The Grand Master disengaged conversation with another elder and addressed Corbin. “Is it done?”

“Yes sir, ‘tis.”

“Both of them?”

“Ashes, sir. Nothing but ashes.”

“Have you recalled the dragon?”

“Yes, sir. The dragon is en route to the Forbudt Mørkskov facility for refueling and maintenance. It will be ready for fresh sortie within the hour if the circumstance requires it.”

“Excellent piloting skills. You should be proud of yourself. I doubt we’ll be needing it again this evening as I’m quite sure the former Chief Constable’s sacrifice will send exactly the sort of message we hoped for. Would you agree?”

Corbin stood at attention. “Yes, sir. Exactly the right message.”

“Quite the successful field test for a prototype of such complicated technology.” The Grand Master smiled in a way that insinuated the irony, then waved Corbin away.

Corbin bowed and turned to leave.

“Oh, and Corbin,” the Grand Master’s voice halted him in his tracks and turned him back. “I am so very pleased that we could rely on you for this most unsavory task. You'll see that our message is announced?”

“Of course, your eminence, I live to serve.” Corbin bowed again.

“Good, good. There seems to be a vacancy within your ranks. You wouldn’t mind serving as Chief Constable, would you?”

“There’s nothing I would like more.” As Corbin left the Great Hall, a playful smile spread across his face.