Chapter 49

Although it was not the big victory celebration it could have been, the guests of the dinner party in the White Citadel still enjoyed their meal after a frighteningly eventful day. Now and then one of them would look to the north where at least one but probably all three of the absent invitees were supposed to be located. There was no reason to worry. Sooner or later the three would join the dinner, wouldn’t they?

Four of the guests’ heads swiveled simultaneously and all four stared at the northwest.

“What happened?” Inandrey asked.

“God Jabbit jumped,” Nahseyra answered, with a finger drawing a curve in the air, from north to west.

“He jumped off that hundred-foot-tall, needle peak?” Jorsha Sammon asked, aghast.

“I don’t think he literally jumped,” Rhaseris opined. “One moment he was north on top of the needle rock and now he’s about twenty leagues north-west of Katerra.”

“He jumped twenty leagues?” Agon asked, with evident awe in his voice.

“Bunnies are good at jumping,” Nahseyra reasoned, “and God Jabbit is the bunny god.”

“What’s twenty miles northwest of Katerra?” Warlord Dabas’Lohross asked.

“Clagesh Abbey,” the Lady Onessa answered. “My whisperers told me it’s the monastery the Alorian priesthood hid in after they fled Katerra. I guess they fled back to the abbey earlier today as well.”

“Almost a thousand Bhansun are among the priests,” Warlord Thar’Haghanosh remarked.

“The miserable little shit!” Evanis cursed and jumped off her chair. “I need a horse - a fast one!”

“Only about two hundred of them are mounted,” Lady Onessa placated. “The rest won’t reach the abbey before tomorrow.”

“He is a god, Eva,” her mother intervened, “and you are not. You don’t have to risk your life trying to rescue him.”

Evanis ignored them both and stormed off. “I don’t care if he’s a god!” She said as she left - loud enough to be heard within the entire hall.

Inandrey bent toward her younger daughter when the older was gone. “What’s wrong with your sister?” She asked in a whisper.

“That’s Eva after a long battle and with no relief in sight,” Anseyla answered.

“Relief?” Inandrey asked with a raised brow.

“Yes, mom, that kind of relief.”

“Can’t she find anyone else to get her relief?”

“I wouldn’t even mention it to Eva,” Anseyla replied.

“That bad?”

Anseyla nodded. “She’s lost ... forever.”

“And you?”

“Jabbit once told me I don’t have to worry,” Anseyla answered with a smile. “My heart is protected. I’m still in love with Sybil.”

“But you know Sybil isn’t...”

“Yes, I know, mom,” Anseyla interrupted. “It’s complicated but it doesn’t matter to me as long as I know she loves me, too.”

King Dharos asked for attention. “Does anyone know if Sybelien is with Jabbit?”

“What about my sister, Anjatta?” Agon added to the King’s worried inquiry.

“I am certain they both are with Jabbit,” Rhaseris answered. “Otherwise they would be here.”

“That means they are at this monastery,” Jorsha Sammon reminded, “and a thousand mortal enemies are marching toward them.”

“Aunty Anja and my friend Princess Sybil are safe,” Nahseyra expressed her conviction. “God Jabbit will protect them.”

The old king smiled at the young girl. “You’re very steadfast in your belief. What did God Jabbit do to gain all your faith?”

“He bribed her with a cuddly pet,” her mother, Irja, grumbled.

The little Queen of Ibanee eagerly nodded.

The ground stopped shaking as Jabbit appeared next to Anjatta. His hand was on the shaft of the lance stuck in the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he said while he looked around the chapel. “I’ve never done this before; I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Are you her god?” Geylock, the young monk, asked.

“I am Jabbit,” he answered, “but I am not yet a god.”

“Not yet?” Foltass, the oldest inquired.

“No, not yet,” Jabbit confirmed. “But soon.”

“What will you do to become a god?” Brother Kulban asked.

“I will find what I was missing,” Jabbit answered.

“What does that mean?” The fourth, so far unnamed monk, asked.

“These are the brethren Geylock, Kulban, Foltass, and...” Anjatta paused, looking at the fourth.

“Vordinant,” the now named man added.

“All four of them are monks of Clagesh Abbey - which is where we are,” Anjatta finished her introduction. “I am happy to see that you, my not-yet-a-god Lord Jabbit, enjoy confusing these monks with your mysterious answers just as much as you take delight in confounding me, your faithful oracle.”

“It can’t be easy to become a god,” Foltass allowed. “Maybe your Lord cannot give you any simple answers because there are no simple answers for us mortals.”

Jabbit smiled at the old monk. “I like you,” he decided. “Once I am a god, I want monks and an abbey, too. Are there only brethren monks or do you have some sister monks as well?”

“Jabbit!” Anjatta exclaimed with indignation. “I mean, my Lord. There are no sister monks - forget about it.”

“Why did you come here?” Brother Kulban asked.

“I want to find out more about the lance,” Jabbit answered.

“Injaramosh’s lance?” Vordinant inquired.

Jabbit nodded.

“It’s the holy lance the god wielded when he slew Clagesh, the last of the Dragons,” brother Kulban stated.

“So I’ve heard,” Jabbit replied. “But the man who told me about it was very old and he was blind.”

“Narthun’Shibanja told you about the holy lance?” Foltass asked.

“Three days ago, Brother Narthun’Shibanja returned to the Abbey after a journey of many seasons,” Geylock added. “He took the holy lance and left the very same day again. He left to slay the Nameless Son.”

“I met the blind old man with the lance,” Jabbit replied. “That’s why I’m here. I want to find out if anything about that legend he’s told me is true.”

Four pale monks stared at him.

“Are you the Nameless Son?” Brother Foltass asked, voicing their fears.

“No - I am Jabbit and I have no father,” he opposed. “Maybe that’s the reason the lance didn’t work on me. Or maybe there was no god, and no dragon was ever slain with this lance. That’s what I want to find out.”

“No, it’s all true,” Geylock insisted. “This Abbey was built on the remains of Clagesh, the last dragon.”

Jabbit watched the young monk and his three fervently nodding brethren. Then he looked at Anjatta.

“You’re the oracle,” he stated. “Tell me if it’s true.”

“Me?” Anjatta asked. “I never dreamt of Injaramosh or a dragon. I don’t know whether the legend is true or not.”

Jabbit pulled the lance out of the floor and held it out toward the Ibanee princess.

“You thrust the lance into this ground,” he said. “Touch the spearhead and you’ll see who is buried here and if it ever pierced a dragon’s scales.”

“But I’ve never... , “ Anjatta started but silenced as the light shining from her necklace brightened the chapel. “Sorry, my Lord - I’ll try to learn faster,” she finished her sentence.

Then she took the lance and touched the rusty spearhead. Anjatta closed her eyes as her vision blurred.

The sun had just risen and early morning fog still covered the valley. Thousands of soldiers occupied the hills on both sides of the dale. Two armies faced each other, each led by a rider with a standard bearer at his side. On the eastern hills, the imperial Alorian banner blew in the wind and in the west there was a red dragon before a yellow sky. Horns were blown and the armies marched into battle. Fighting and dying, thousands of times - until the dragon fell, the battle was over, and the vision faded.

The Ibanee princess opened her eyes.

“Many men’s remains are buried beneath the Abbey but the only dragon ever seen was made of cloth and color. A red dragon adorned the banners of an army from the west and they were defeated in this valley by the Alorians. Maybe Clagesh was the name of the enemy general.”

The four monks stared at the petite oracle with the lance in her hands.

“Really?” Geylock asked. “No god and no dragon fought in our valley.”

“Are you disappointed?” Anjatta asked.

The young monk lowered his gaze and nodded.

“I am disappointed, too,” Jabbit said as he took the lance from Anjatta. “And I don’t like to be disappointed.”

“Oh no,” the princess gasped as her Lord thrust the lance back into the ground.

The earth shook once more.

Only moments later, two Bhansun rushed into the chapel.

“Here you are!” One of them stated. “The High Priest is back. He and the Untars want a dinner and their quarters need to be cleaned and made ready for the night.”

“Was that an earthquake?” The other order-warrior asked. “Anyway, I’m glad it was a short one. I’ve had enough of earthquakes and erupting volcanos for today.”

“Who are the man and woman?” The first added another question.

“The woman is Princess Anjatta var Dosha of Ibanee,” brother Foltass answered. “She is an oracle.”

“The man’s name is Jabbit,” his brother Kulban continued with the introduction. “He is the Oracle’s Lord but not yet a god.”

One Bhansun laughed as he looked at Jabbit. “I’m also not yet a god. Where can I get a princess like her?”

“Buffoon!” The other cursed and drew his sword. “That’s why the earth shook! That man is Jabbit the Heretic - the Nameless Son of the Faceless God!”

“That’s silly,” Jabbit pointed out. “If my name is Jabbit, I am not nameless, and if I am the son of a god, I hardly can be a heretic.”

“Help! Enemies are here!” The Bhansun called out, ignoring Jabbit’s reasoning. “We need reinforcements!”

His comrade drew his sword as well.

“This is Clagesh Abbey,” brother Vordinant reminded the Bhansun. “It’s blasphemous to threaten the guests of our monastery with your weapons!”

“Your guests?” The Bhansun asked, aghast. “This is the archenemy of our gods and she’s one of his demonesses!”

“Me, a demoness?” Anjatta squeaked.

Vordinant resolutely shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. Clagesh Abbey is a sanctuary and every refugee is our guest.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Jabbit thanked the monk as more armed Bhansun invaded the chapel.

The Untar of the order-warriors was among them.

Ashun Kal’Thys regarded Jabbit thoroughly. “So we meet again, Nameless Son. Where are your demoness and her army of the dead? Or did you come to fight yourself?” He asked and looked at the lance thrust into the ground. “But I don’t see you wearing a weapon.”