Note from the authoress: Thanks everyone for all of the wonderful feedback, I appreciate each comment and the time it took to post your thoughts.
Thanks to a reviewer who wanted to know what happened to Mara, I'd forgotten that I'd notes on her until you reminded me.
Note that Azaroth and Zardeenah are mentioned in The Horse and His Boy, but we know next to nothing about who they were, how they were worshipped and what they commanded.
The next chapter will deal exclusively with those questions, and of course Tash's role as well.
Thanks for reading.
Enjoy.
They came at dawn, summoned from all corners of the palace at the command of their king and queen.
Some were maids, others soldiers, called before the thrones of their monarchs to fulfill an as yet unnamed task.
At the back of the group stood Mara. Accompanied by ten slaves who served as helpers in the royal kitchen.
She had found no rest this night, for the slaves sent to serve the king and his guests had not returned.
Knowing how late such feasts often lasted, Mara was at first inclined to dismiss their absence with any number of reasonable excuses.
But as the night wore on, and dawn drew ever closer, she could not ignore the feeling that something was dreadfully amiss.
Now here she stood, twisting the folds of her apron in nervous anticipation as the king rose to speak.
"Your queen and I have a task for you all which we expect to be completed by noon.
Some of you older servants have helped with such work before, and so I expect you to assist the younger slaves should they falter."
He beckoned to a soldier guarding the doors of the throne room. "This warrior will take you to the room. Other slaves will be waiting for you there with the supplies you will need. Afterwards you will proceed to the stables where horses and litters are ready.
You are dismissed."
Automatically Mara followed, traversing passages and ascending stairs she had never walked before, until at last they came to the intricately carved doors of Charn's oldest banquet hall.
Her vague fears for the slaves sent to serve at the feast, and the nobles who had arrived at the palace the night before were increased by the words of the king.
For she recalled a similar speech he had made a month after she had begun to work at the palace.
She with other servants had been given cryptic orders, only to discover that their task was to prepare corpses of those disloyal to Charn for return to their families, and make sure that no evidence of the slaughter was left behind.
I don't want to know what's behind that door. With rulers like these two it's bound to be something horrific.
Ignorant of the cook's thoughts, the soldier marched forward briskly and pulled open the heavy oak doors.
Mara standing at the end of the line of servants, felt her terror rise as those before her passed through the door in utter silence.
Finally it was her turn.
Gathering her courage she stepped forward.
And it took all of her strength to stifle the scream of shock and horror at the carnage spread out before her.
She knew little of war, but as she gazed about the hall Mara thought that the seen must be similar to a field of battle.
This impression was heightened as she saw the ways in which the nobles had died.
Some had been killed by the sword, others taken down by a thrown spear, while at the center of the table lay the bodies of those struck down by arrows.
Others looked as if they had been poisoned, and Mara was thankful that it had not been given in any of the food she had prepared.
Automatically she moved forward to join the slaves in their grim task, horrified that her king and queen would dare to break the sacred law of courtesy so completely and without regret.
Skirting the body of another fallen lord, Mara stopped suddenly as her eyes fell on a small figure next to an overturned candelabra.
If not for the warm gold of the hair she would never have recognized the girl, for her eyes were immediately drawn to the deep slash in the slender throat.
It was the girl she had reprimanded only a few short hours ago who now lay dead at her feet.
Forcing back a sob Mara reached to close the corpse's eyes, angered at the pointless tragic death of one so young.
The work continued in grim silence, broken only by a quiet request for assistance, or the clatter of a weapon laid carefully aside.
When at last it was done, Mara left that place of death, vowing that she would never set foot in that room again as long as she lived.
With the other slaves she carried the corpses of the slain to the stables, and placed each on a litter as directed by the king.
For what seemed like hours she was kept constantly at work.
But it wasn't until the last corpse was brought out by a young soldier that the impact of her monarchs' cruelty took on personal significance.
Worn out after her sleepless night and the efforts to set the banquet hall to rights, she eventually asked to be put to work in the stables finding horses to pull the litters.
As she made her way down the row of stalls, one of the horses thrust his head forward and whinnied in recognition.
Cold horror filled her, for she knew that this was a horse that belonged to Marcus.
At that moment the young warrior entered the stable and bent to lay the final corpse down.
Light from the open stable door fell upon its lifeless face.
Marcus.
He had been one of the few nobles who came to the kitchen to thank her for her efforts, whenever he had been invited to attend a feast at the palace.
His gentle wife had even approached her, to ask if she would be willing to join their cause.
Fear of discovery had kept her from accepting, and so she had chosen to work in secret, doing what she could to save a few slaves from the executioner's blade through example and hard lessons.
Sara had commended her for her bravery, saying that few would thank or even realize Mara's true intentions.
Sorrow filled the royal cook, and she determined then and there that she would bring Marcus's body back to Sara.
And if the king was furious about losing the services of his cook for a few days, than he could just find someone else to take her place.
It was a site unlike anything the citizens of Charn had ever seen before.
A long and solemn procession of soldiers and slaves on horseback wound its way through Charn's streets, behind each horse was fastened a litter draped in the colors of mourning.
Many wondered what had taken the lives of so many high born lords.
But deep within each person suspected the truth, knew that their fears concerning the king's summoning of so many important nobles were now becoming a reality before their eyes.
Each citizen knew this display for what it was. A powerful reminder that their king and queen would permit no one to rise up against them in rebellion.
All of Charn stood in respectful silence tempered with fear, as the procession approached the city gates.
Some wanted to call out, to honor these men who had been so cruelly slain.
Yet they dared not, knowing that any act of rebellion no matter how small could mean that they and their families would share a similar fate.
Mara walked beside Marcus's litter drawn by the commanders own horse.
So lost was she in sorrow, that she didn't notice when a soldier made his way through the crowd to her side.
Only when he took up a position on the right of the litter did she acknowledge his presence.
"I'd like to help you take him to his wife, if you'll allow me. It's a long way, and I dare say you could use the help." Seeing her indecision he continued.
"I served under Marcus in three wars. He was my friend, and a brilliant commander. Often he helped me with my weapons training, and I came to respect him as a just and honorable man."
The impassive mask which Mara had worn ever since the king's summons shattered, broken by the kind words and the real grief she glimpsed in the face of this young warrior. She relented, grateful for the offer of help and the fact that she wouldn't have to travel alone.
The journey was long and hard, but at last the house came into sight.
Sara opened the door in answer to the soldier's brisk knock, and her dark eyes went at once to the litter tied behind Marcus's horse.
In as few words as possible Mara's escort explained what had happened, offering his sympathies and a respectful salute before turning his horse back towards the city.
Sara beckoned to Mara and the cook gratefully entered the house.
For a moment they did not speak, then unable to bear the silence Mara voiced a question which had been tormenting her from the moment she had looked on the face of her dead friend.
"When will it end Sara? How many are going to be sacrificed to our rulers and their lust for power?"
When Sara answered, it was in a voice Mara had never heard before. Her friend normally so gentle became a woman afire with the need for vengeance as she answered Mara's question.
"I promise you Mara, somehow I'll find a way to make those excuses for human beings pay for what they did to my Marcus. I won't let what he fought for be forgotten. I swear it."
Mara nodded, knowing that if it was possible Sara would take up her husband's role as leader of their rebellion regardless of the consequences.
Yet there were other ways to seek vengeance, and although she had long ago begun to wonder if the gods cared for the people under their rule, she was willing to ask for their help in this instance.
"Sara, not even our rulers can stop you from requesting the aid of our gods. Let us ask them to grant our request for vengeance."
Together they stood to pray, joined in friendship, sorrow and the desire to see that their monarchs' actions would not go unpunished.
Mara began, in the hope that her request would be heard.
"Oh Azaroth sustainer of life, and Zardeenah who blessed the joining of Marcus and Sara these ten years past, I ask that you grant this request. Let not these deaths go unpunished.
Pour out your vengeance on those who have dared to break our sacred law of courtesy."
Sara hesitated for a moment, before addressing a being which many in Charn considered mere legend.
"And thou creator of all worlds, you who my husband reverenced and I now worship, please receive and honor his sacrifice in your kingdom. Do not let these deaths go unpunished, for I truly believe that many who were slain acknowledged you as their lord, even though all who honor you know not your name."
It wasn't until the funeral rites were over, that Mara found time to speak to her friend about her unusual prayer.
"My friend, you truly believe there is a creator, someone higher than our gods?"
"At first I didn't, I only learned about him when I went with Marcus to the palace two years ago.
The king had requested his advice and leadership of a small army to defeat our enemies.
So while he was in counsel I spent a lot of time in the palace library. There I found a drawing in an ancient book, of a great lion and the strange tale that he was this creator."
"But Sara, what of the other gods we worship, and their place in the universe?
What of Azaroth sustainer of life, or Tash bringer of death who takes joy in the blood of the slain?"
"I asked myself the same questions Mara. Marcus and I spent many hours talking over what I found and its deeper meaning."
"And what did you decide?"
"Marcus and I came to the same conclusion, and he explained his ideas in terms a warrior would appreciate. I often take the more complicated route when it comes to reasoning something out, comes of having a father who taught me to love books and art.
This was how Marcus saw things.
In a kingdom, a king has many counselors and governors who oversee the different tasks of running an empire. Some assist him in politics, or war, others with matters concerning the royal treasury.
Yet in the end they all answer to the king, and his consort, because he has the greater power and responsibility. Are you with me so far?"
Mara nodded; excited by the ideas and questions her friend's recitation were beginning to stir within her spirit.
Sara continued. "So now put this scenario in the same context as the gods.
We have three important ones in Charn. Azaroth who spins each life thread and commands the elements. Zardeenah who measures the length of our days and is often called joy bringer.
And Tash who takes pleasure in war and many dark rituals.
Our priests say that they alone control our destinies, but what if they are wrong?
Azaroth for example, it is said that she sees the future of each destiny as it is formed, but where does that knowledge come from?
What if they are subject to the will of this creator, perhaps even unknowingly follow the course set for them by his power?"
Mara nodded. "Your argument makes sense; I might accept it given time. And it can't hurt to ask the help of the most powerful of gods.
Do you have a copy of that drawing?"
A gentle smile softened Sara's drawn features. "I've something better than that Mara. Follow me."
Sara led her friend towards the west side of the house, into the bedroom she had shared with Marcus for ten years.
The furnishings were simple and elegant, with rich tapestries and thick rugs scattered over the floor. .
Sara pointed to a painting above the fireplace.
"The drawing was very old, and I'm not sure I got all of the colors right, but I did my best."
Mara stood and stared in amazement at her friend's work.
Resting in an intricately carved frame of oak was the painting of a magnificent lion. So lifelike did the portrait appear that Mara almost expected the lion to come bounding out of the frame.
But what captured her gaze immediately were the eyes, for they held within a look of great wisdom, compassion, solemnity and love.
Sara smiled proudly, bestowing on the lion a look akin to that a priestess might offer a god.
"I didn't know you had such a talent, Sara it's beautiful..
"Marcus always liked to look at it. He said it gave him hope and the courage to keep on fighting for his people. If only it could do the same for me."
Broken by the weight of her sorrow she wept. Wept for the friend and beloved consort, and the empire that was slowly being robbed of her few glories.
And Mara held her friend close, praying to this one Sara called creator for the strength to help her people, and the courage to uphold the legacy of a man of honor.