The Exodus Sagas: Book I - Of Spiders And Falcons (43 page)

Exodus I:IX

Eastern Chazzrynn Trails

The road had been easy across the eastern edge of Chazzrynn, a well used trail and little snowfall or melt made for swift travel. Azenairk spent almost an hour each morning and each night in prayer over James, out of pity for the man and apparent endless lust for wine and oblivion. His outbursts had been infrequent yet consistent throughout his waking hours were speech of ogre and death, pain and loss, swords and imprisonment in varied forms. Tears from his mental state, and from his drinking ran uncontrollably down his face. More tears came falling off of his beard when he was in urgent need of the spirits in the bottle. Azenairk had many instances of the same with his dwarven kin in Boraduum, decades of service in the temple had opened his eyes to things most men never see or hear of. The wagon rolled along, the young girls peeking back with blonde wisps blowing in each others faces. The priest had hoped they would not see some of the violent fits the knight of Southwind had had, but there was little room for privacy on the cold road to Valhirst in a wagon.

“Lost hope dwarf, leave him be. Best thing is to take the wine and he will tough it out the hard way. He will survive.” Saberrak huffed as he passed by the side of the covered wagon, peering in to see if James was conscious. The minotaur preferred to walk the free land than ride comfortably anymore.

“He is but a wino with a sword Azenairk, there is nothing you can do but let him sober up. It will take time, not prayers.” Gwenneth did not look up, keeping her pace on the extra horse brought with the small caravan headed east. Her mind had been curious to ask this former knight some things about her father and the battle in Teirinshire many years back, but with his condition, the wizard kept her distance and silence.

“I have dealt with this before, friends, and the elf agrees, we keep him tended and help all we can. While you sleep at night, she watches over him and I handle the days while she scouts ahead. He will get better, and needs all of our help here.” Azenairk Thalanaxe felt no anger, yet his words were stern and with purpose hearing the lack of faith from the minotaur and young Lazlette.

“And when does the elf sleep then, priest?” the grinning minotaur snorted, stepping to see how far Shinayne was actually ahead of the rest.

“Who ever said I
sleep
?” the elven swordswoman jogged past the horned warrior, having done a full circle around the caravan for the last hour, spotting little of concern.

“You do not sleep?”

“I rest from time to time, and perhaps dream a bit, but no. After a century or so, most elves develop the ability to refresh mind, body, and spirit while awake.
Jealous
?” Shinayne laughed and squinted playfully up at the gray minotaur, then drank deep of her waterskin.

“I much enjoy my rest, pointy eared one. It means a hard exertion and effort was paid by my body, and the rest deserved.” Saberrak did not understand how one could not sleep, so scoffed intentionally at the remarks of his elven friend.

“Hmmm, have it your way then. My way lets me live for centuries,
but
if you insist….” Shinayne stopped in her banter, noticing again the same bird far above. Difficult to see in the daylight, light colored and circling since early this morning. A dot in the sky to a mortal eye, but to Lady T’Sarrin, she could make out that it was larger than a hawk, white and gray, and had a longer neck that was trying not to look at them often, but failing to remain unnoticed.

“We are being watched. There is a white bird trailing and circling us like a vulture waiting for a meal to fall.” Shinayne addressed her friends and trotted ahead once again.

“It
is
a vulture, my mothers. Damn it! It’s Hithins, which means they know where we are.” Gwenneth began moving her arms in a rhythm of fanning motions and speaking softly in arcane tongues up toward the direction of the spying avian.

“Won’t you have to talk a bit louder to get its attention?”

“No, minotaur, it can hear me perfectly. Trust in the arts to do what you can not.” her sharp tongue edged on frustration at the questioning of her capabilities, something her mother had ordained for many years.

The snow vulture began circling lower and lower, the tall towers of decaying Valhirst half a day in the distance with salt from the sea fresh on the air. Closer and closer the white scavenger bird lowered, eying the caravan and the emerald city of corruption in which it was heading. Hithins hoped he could pass on the message he had been given and get the daughter of his mistress to listen to reason.

Landing safely on top of the covered wagon, the vulture bowed his head toward Gwenneth and her companions, noting the tense postures of all save the drunken knight who appeared to be sick, sitting upright next to the rear wheel.

“Greetings my lady, your mother will be glad to know you are well.”

“Do tell me
why
you have come Hithins, besides to report to my mother our whereabouts.” Gwenneth knew that he had other purpose, perhaps a message, or he would not have answered her call.

“Lady Lazlette begs you to return to Vallakazz, the threat has been uncovered, and you are safe there. Too much hunts you here in the open and Valhirst is not any safer.” Hithins noticed the awe of the commoner family and their children at a talking vulture, and bowed to them as well, winking at the girls.

“If we had not left when we did, the scroll would be in the hands of either the church, the city, those thieves sent from wherever, or the professors. Which would be worse I do not know, but it is much safer with us and with Kalzarius of Harlaheim. Be off, and tell mother not to worry.” Gwenne waived her hand, expecting more of a message than that from her home city.

“My lady, you are hunted by far more than you are aware. A Nadderi killer, dwarves from the king of Boraduum searching for the priest, agents of the Prince of Valhirst, and Dasius of Caberra was tied in somehow. Not to mention his contact with Salah-Cam to the south, and the disappearance of Lady Kaya T’Vellon, who is rumored to have been involved in trying to plan your ambush. You are walking into a trap, set against you are even rumors that Altestani ambassadors are waiting in Valhirst having knowledge of what you carry. Do not be foolish, you need the protection of your city. The Lady of Vallakazz commands it!” the bird grew agitated, and talked faster as he saw that arrogant rebellious look on young Lazlette’s face.

“Why are
you
hunted, Azenairk Thalanaxe?” the elven swordswoman spoke up.

Shaking his head in disbelief, “I have a promise to keep, one that my kingdom would have me not keep.
That
is all.”

“This cursed elf, how far behind us is he and is he alone?” huffed the minotaur, nearly leveling with the vulture atop the wagon.

“He can not be traced by magical means, Saberrak, he has many tricks and items of arcane protection. He is alone, for now, yet a swarm of trolls head north behind him. We know little of him, but he killed at least fifteen men we have counted in his attempt to get to you in Vallakazz.” Hithins fluttered his wings, not enjoying the intimidating closeness of the tattooed warrior.

“I have made contact with Kalzarius, he offers protection far superior to Vallakazz and has insight into the scroll beyond that of any in this kingdom. I have made my decision, you may tell mother I appreciate the concern.”

His feathers shook, wings flapping in frustration. “
Foolish girl
, now is not the time! This is more serious than spying in forbidden books or sneaking into summoning chambers!
That scroll
is rumored to be of the old Gods, and has powers and knowledge that any would seek to have for themselves! You are in real danger for once Gwenneth, please turn back. Your mother and Middir
will send
Angeline to find you and take you back, and you know she will not fail.”

“Will you help us Hithins? Help
me
? Or just deliver the message you are instructed to give and delay us?”

“You ask me to betray
again
, after all these years? At this moment?”

“One last time, anything you can do. I
will
get this scroll to Harlaheim, to Kalzarius. It seems I could use a little assistance, given the situation. Please my friend.” the young wizard had placed a bit of guilt into her words, and made no attempt to hide it. Decades of secret friendship was now leaned upon.

“I will fly ahead, simply to see what awaits you outside the city, nothing more. And then I am gone my friend. I must obey my mistress, you know this.”

“Thank you Hithins, pick me out a ship as well.” her mood and tone changed quickly after getting what she wanted.

The snow vulture bowed and flew east, rising fast above the trees of Chazzrynn. The wagon proceeded with a nod from Shinayne, who was helping James Andellis to his feet, assisted by the dwarf. His groans and sweats began again, yet some conscious came to his eyes feeling himself on his feet once more. “You were just talking to a bird, were you not?” the veteran knights eyes opened for the first time in over a day.

“Yes, a friend of Gwenne’s mother, we need you sobered up James. There will be much danger ahead of us in Valhirst.” the elf seemed concerned, for she knew that Saberrak had left the last of the wine off the trail a day behind them, seeing that the only way to stop the man from his pitiful state.

“I need wine, where is the
wine
?” James stumbled and looked into the back of the wagon, searching for what he needed.

“You need prayer and time away from the wine, my friend. There is no more, let God help you.” Azenairk placed a hand on the man’s back, muttering a blessing for mercy in his native tongue.

James drew his broadsword, and spun round, face red with rage and tears in his eyes, drunk beyond sanity. “Where
is
it? Why would you
do
that to me?!! The nightmares will not stop,
God
has nothing to do with this, and they will get me there and take me to the hill and…” his body fell limp, his head snapped to the left from the blow of a fist from the gray gladiator. Saberrak caught his body as it fell, picked up his sword, and threw him over his shoulder, his pace never slowing.

“
Saberrak
! That be not the answer to his condition, he needs
prayer
!” the dwarf had not raised his voice once till now, and his concern and compassion showed readily.

The horned warrior kept walking, keeping pace with the caravan. “Have your God talk to him while he sleeps then. If he does not change his demeanor, I will leave him in Valhirst to find his end. You have less than a day, dwarf, and I do not intend to change my mind and wait for him to pull a blade on me.”

Kendari I:V

Central Chazrynn Wilderness

“For crimes that may never see forgiveness, hatred that is beyond redemption, conscience that is without regret, and evil that knows not itself; you are hereby given the thorn of Nadderi to curse and mark you for all eternity, your only atonement shall be your death. May it come quickly by your own hands.”-
last rites of the placement of the thorn, translated from the scroll of Maglesh, Order of the Whitemoon.

Scattered at best, sometimes the Nadderi swordsman searched the trail for an hour for one hoofed track, rarely finding evidence of the elf that had freed the horned captive. Kendari had followed it for several days now, sure the markings were more recent with each passing hour. He was getting closer, he could feel this elven hunter in the tracks or lack thereof. He knew what kind of training and mindset one must have to not be seen, heard, nor followed and keep such a pace for so long. The cursed elf thought like his prey, moved where he thought he should move were
he
the hunted, and through the Chazzrynn forests he had been accurate beyond doubt. The satyr was not as cautious, or as light on his feet as his rescuer, which proved an easier mark to follow.

Kendari of Stillwood, in his over six centuries of cursed existence, knew when something was not as it should be. He had stopped for a night in Vallakazz, perhaps by mistake, but regardless his progression had incurred only a small delay. By now, he thought, the trolls of Salah-Cam should have been close. During the day he had little care of much more than gaining on his target. Yet at night, he listened and watched from high points in the willow trees and hills for signs from the south of his screeching reinforcements. He heard none, saw none and his mind calculated that the trolls were delayed, failed to follow the trail he left uncovered, or might not have been sent at all. He wondered if the trolls had followed the wagon trail instead to Valhirst, perhaps thirsting for a meal. Wagons held no interest to Kendari, he kept his pursuit north.

He stepped out from behind the brush covered hill of willows, feeling closer to his enemies, his hand gripping the hilt of Shiver in anticipation. The cold air, murder on the breeze, the feel of enchanted steel in his hand, and the swift steps of his boots were closing in on the satyr and the wild elf hunter. His heart tightened, he felt ill at ease, like something was watching him. Kendari had felt the powers of wizards and churches trying to watch his motions from afar and was more than adept in stealth and using arcane trinkets to not be noticed. This was different. Something,
someone
, was here, now, close, watching him move, keeping pace, but invisible to his green eyes as he looked around. His blades out, his off hand held in reverse as normal, the air steamed from Shiver’s heat once drawn. The Nadderi kept moving, not daring to slow his steps and give whatever was here the chance to get an advantage. The shadows hid something that moved faster, out moved the cursed elf himself, and was off to the left and moving to cut him off. Stopping quickly, the cursed swordsman prepared for what was about to rush in front of him, his stance perfect and low.