The Exodus Sagas: Book I - Of Spiders And Falcons (30 page)

Clearing his mind of the past, Johnas Valhera flung the left door open, as the
right
door
had quite a nasty surprise of a twenty foot drop ending in spikes behind it. He walked up toward Ellaird, Captain of the guard of Valhirst, through the smoke of opium and other noxious fumes of pleasure. He passed the great table, adorned with fifty or more velvet backed chairs, all adorned with web-like carpentry and design, past his various visiting ambassadors from other kingdoms, and past his loyal crew, all pausing to see who the blade was meant for. All cavorting and inhaling, all touching and pleasing, and all counting and trading, then all stood frozen still in silence. Ellaird turned from the woman he was wooing, drunk on whiskey as usual, eyes red from the opium pipes, his turn from the lovely face of Vanessa Blackflame to that of his prince and patriarch caused a shudder on his pale unshaven face. The sword sparked and metal screamed for a second, then again as the bloody blade returned from his chest.

Like he had seen a ghost, the blood left his face, his eyes frozen, dropping to his knees clutching his chest despite a quarter inch of steel breastplate being in between his hand and the bleeding wound he had hoped to cover. Blood ran down his fingers and armor, dripping to the floor as he drew his broadsword. “Johnas, you
focking
…” a step forward from the prince, and a whistling cut from the wavy kris blade across his throat ended the insult, his life draining across the steps and splattering to the emerald and onyx adorned throne.

“Focking
what
?” Johnas questioned the almost corpse, writhing on the steps at his feet. “How about,
focking
unable to kill my brother
as ordered
? Or a
focking
drunken captain who let his brother get away to the king and
warn him
of our men in Willborne? Or the
focking
captain who did not tell me he could not kill his brother as ordered and came here to spend time
with opium
rewarding him
focking
self for
failure
?” Johnas kicked Ellaird hard, still gasping through the gash across his neck, spasming as death spread through the body. He wiped the blade clean with a white towel handed by another servant boy who had just arrived through Heathen’s door. All was still and no one breathed.

“D’Vrelle!” Heathen’s voice boomed into the silent bloody throne room underground, announcing another entry.

The Harlian man, dressed in black much like Johnas, long dark curly hair and beard though, stepped forward, hand on the hilts of both saber and shortsword at his side. From Harlaheim, where he was brought into the White Spider for his dueling talents, Balric D’Vrelle was simply visiting and eyeing his mistress Vanessa who had been keeping this captain at bay for nights now. The Harlian swordsman, undefeated in his almost thirty years, felt this moment could be his last. He bowed. “Yes Prince Johnas, you sent for me earlier?”

“You are the new captain of the city guard of Valhirst, see Gerald at the barracks, meet the men, make introductions, and do not
ever
fail me.” Johnas received his scabbard from the outreached hand of a servant, placed his kris shortsword inside, and sat on the onyx throne.

“Yes my prince, thank you. I will make my stay here
indefinite
and inform the guild in Harlaheim.” Balric bowed again, not knowing what else to say. He knew this was a set up, for no Chazzrynn guard would listen well to a Harlian captain. Johnas may have caught on that he was here gathering information for Harlaheim. Balric had dueled others, killed many in fair challenges, and had his younger days of banditry and skullduggery. Those nights were well behind him and the last thing he wanted was to be steered away from Vanessa, given duty here, and made to engage in the dealings of Valhirst. Now he was stuck, he would have a hard time pinning down and trailing this Prince’s connections to Altestan and Shalokahn. “And I do not
fail,
my prince.”

“
Excellent
, than we have nothing to be concerned about, you and I. Report to me this evening and I will fill you in once you have informed the guard that their captain was found dead in whore’s alley. Which is where he needs to be placed, get Heathen to carry him and I will see that your papers are in order. Be off.” Johnas knew that he now had the Harlian man worried, busy, and curious. He was well aware that he was a mole among a den of rats, but his skills with the sword and ties to Harlaheim would be valuable. While he was here, and craving his mistress that was also a
supposed secret
, Johnas would not have worry of what his intentions were. Now, the prince thought, how to get his true loyalty, perhaps putting the pressure on the emotional bond, maybe a little accident with his beautiful wizard Vanessa Blackflame. That should, in theory he thought, get the swordsman angry enough to do about anything, should he give him the lead to direct his blades. A vengeful assassin, just what Johnas needed to take care of a few loose ends around the kingdoms. He watched as Balric D’Vrelle, captain of the guard, left the chamber.

“Now that the first order of business is finished, tell me what else is on our table this cold winters’ day.” Johnas was content with his planned outcome, just in the works, and certainly set in motion to ripen and improve with the days and weeks to come.

“My prince, we have several messages from Vallakazz and Salah-Cam in the south, and one from Southwind.” Dark haired, a beautiful orphan of former members that Johnas had to eliminate many years ago, this wizard Vanessa had trained at Eislinne Arcane for four years, paid and sent by her master the Prince. Always prompt and insightful, and most of all loyal. She had pleased the patriarch of the White Spider many times over, despite her secret romance with Balric of Harlaheim. An expert at lies and deception, like himself, and that is what he admired most in her. Had her duties or loyalty ever wavered, he would have killed her years ago. Although now, he was concerned.

“What from Vallakazz, Miss Blackflame?” Johnas peered around the room, wine being delivered by a servant, tasted by the one to his left before he was to drink it. The young boy did not drop dead, and the prince drank deeply of the aged Caberran red. “Two ninety seven? Great year, delicious finish and no poison.” He received nods from the young teenage blonde boys, chuckles from the agents and gathered who knew nothing of wine, but served their purpose. He looked around, the table gathering more members in the dark room with cathedral ceilings and a half dozen chandeliers ablaze with green and orange magical fire. More than forty men and women, thieves, dealers, merchants, assassins, enforcers, madams, spies, corrupt foreign ambassadors, and arcane outcasts, all gathered at the table before him while Heathen dragged the corpse of Ellaird out the side entrance. Wines, powders, bags of leaf, coins of platinum and gold, contracts, items of arcane enchantment, and stolen goods cluttered the table filled with the worst and deadliest on the continent and surrounding lands. The young Caberran wizard slid the forefront of the table to the side, revealing the polished black marble slab under the wood. The other end of the giant oak table revealed a three foot by three foot section of polished white marble, framed in gold. It matched identically the fifteen foot by five foot wall piece to the left of the throne, covered by red drapery that Vanessa removed as the members gathered at the table. The larger of the two “warlock mirrors”, as they were called, had writings in arcane script that only a trained student of the arcane could read. Johnas always pretended to be unable to decipher it, yet his years of secret study had blessed him with the ability. He would test his arcane members often, by having them pass him the information he knew already and could read, and kill them for any deceiving or self serving misinformation they would give, always having another reason for their removal so that his secret remained safe. Such was the way and the need of a lord of criminals and Prince of a city.

Vanessa followed the patterns of arcane scripture in gold color, glowing from the giant marble slab on the wall, then checked them with the ever-changing code on the smaller one on the table. The large enchanted stone received magical writing in code from the smaller enchanted warlock mirrors that were written upon from other wizard contacts throughout Johnas’ spanning webs. “Dasius of Caberra writes from Lazlette that, the High Wizards moved on the invaluable tomes stolen from Eliah, and that they are not truly in Vallakazz. He says they are heading closer to the coast, and northeast, toward us perhaps, carried by a wood elf accompanied by a satyr. He writes further that Salah-Cam’s assassin has entered the city, following the same illusory trail and has taken out several of our agents there, and is held up and surrounded at the Temple of Golden Mercy. He awaits further instruction, my prince.”

Johnas motioned to Vanessa to come to the smaller black marble mirror, which she did, muttering an arcane phrase quickly that would allow her finger to pass the arcane message to Dasius’ mirror in Vallakazz. “Tell him to let the men take out Kendari if he interferes, and that we will follow the stolen tomes from here on. Also, Vanessa, tell him to be watchful of the bodyguard of Middir, as she is unable to be magically observed from here in Valhirst.” Young Blackflame wrote in the strange arcane glyphs and decorative tongue that only a wizard would hope to understand, articulating every word from her prince perfectly. Johnas watched, from the corner of his eye, making sure his words were what he had spoken.

Prince Johnas Valhera, after motioning for some more wine, and some of the opium and pipe from the table from his serving boys, casually, with a feinted look of confusion, inspected the next messages. He knew the
who
and
what
of each, but carried on with his gathering to ensure their confidence in him remained always. “The next message, my dear.” The boys lit the heavy ivory hookah in the shape of a praying tiger, and handed the hose to their prince, who in turn handed it back, having the boy try it first.

“Salah-Cam my prince. He writes that he wishes to employ our services again, since the last man we sent was murdered at the troll camp several days ago. He wants a scroll, one that has great importance to him, and great value. It is heading toward Vallakazz, in the care of a gray minotaur who found it in the western waste. He says his hunter is busy with another task in the swamps, and will offer one thousand pounds for the scroll to be delivered.” Vanessa looked confused for a moment, trying to piece things together from the other message.

“So Cam wants us to get concentrate on the scroll, while he sends Kendari for the three tomes that are
said
to be of much greater value? Then his assassin ends up in Vallakazz anyway, on a false lead, and kills
our
men?” Laughter rolled through the heartless members of the White Spider, along with the prince’s own, at the old fool of a wizard that every year seems to be plagued with incompetent thugs that foul his goals to no end. “Tell him we will look into the scroll, but our men are busy with an attack from his assassin, Kendari. Tell him if he continues to insult our intelligence, he will have to join and be branded or we will end his pathetic life early. The price may be double that of his offer, but the tomes of High Elven Magic will look nice on our shelves.” More chuckles and “
oohs
” from the assembled criminals, noting the taunt to the wizard being written. “That should give the old bastard close to a seizure and have him begging for assistance in both matters. That swamp wizard and troll breeder, Salah-Cam, has lost us many men, but it seems his purses and chests have great depth, so let us dig a bit more.”

The patriarch of the White Spider inhaled deeply, holding in the relaxing smoke from the ivory tiger at his feet, feeling his body become numb, invincible, powerful, and his inebriated mind began the usual thoughts of lust and power, never enough, never secure, and never finished. “Next
, sweet
Vanessa, carry on.”

She shied away, but realized with his tone of voice that she would be asked to pleasure him again tonight, and she would. No one denied the prince, not one that wished to breathe much longer anyway. Women, children, common or royal, member or not, Johnas Valhera was not to be disobeyed. Not to his knowledge, anyway. “Lastly, my prince.” She read the glowing script again, “The agent of Southwind writes about the scroll that passed through days ago, its value, same story my prince. Gray minotaur, elven noble, former knight of the keep, heading to Vallakazz. Whoever this man is, also says that they are suspicious that Lady Kaya T’Vellon may be preparing to follow, and have interest in the scroll or in an old wound with one traveling with the minotaur. Not certain. He, she, “jade of the west”, as this person refers to themselves, is also certain that letters have been sent regarding this scroll, from the church. Jade of the west has eliminated these letters, and the men carrying them. However, feels that their position may have been compromised and will be,
abandoning post
?”

Johnas knew
jade of the west
very well, but at the request of the agent, preferred to keep the identity to himself. “Tell our agent in Southwind to leave the post, return to the web, only once all contacts are cut. We are following two leads now, one being the scroll that is entering Vallakazz, do not go through there, it is too warm this time of year.” he was concerned on the inside, looked simply drugged from without. Johnas did not like having to lose a city, even one as inconsequential as Elcram and Southwind Keep on the western border. His mind raced on who and how to replace their presence there. He surveyed the room, the mutterings and conversations beginning, perhaps due to his silent pause, for how long he did not know. Johnas Valhera stood up, feeling his body lifted by the opium.