The Exodus Sagas: Book I - Of Spiders And Falcons (54 page)

James knelt, placing the tip of his broadsword into the deck. He lowered his head, saying a prayer to Alden not to be beheaded at this moment, for he could not believe that he would be receiving any reward for the life he had lived.

The king’s sword touched James on each shoulder, and then lay on the top of his head. “Rise, James Andellis, Knight of the Kingdom of Chazzrynn, no longer of Southwind. Your orders are to see these allies of the kingdom safe into Harlaheim. Should anyone stand in your way, they are officially standing in the way of the king, and therefore are an enemy of your country. Deal them justice as you deem necessary.”

As he stood, his heart beating far too fast to breath, the forty royal guard stood at attention, the deafening sound of steel gauntlet on steel shield in unison echoed across the waters. James felt a pride renewed, a faith restored, and that he meant something besides a drunken reminder of a slaughter from the past. He looked at his shield that lay on the deck below him, all the scratches he had carved, nearly one hundred, each one representing an ogre kill, each one he thought was bringing him closer to redemption or escape. He felt now, knew now, that he was forgiven, and that he had served well and fought well for king and country.

The king felt relief, sorrow, and that he had corrected as best he could, a mistake from his past. He could not bring back the thousands, but he could do something here and now, and so he did what his conscience directed. His son emerged from below deck, shaking his head, having found nothing of concern. “Men, we have enemy ships approaching from the south, back to the boats!” Mikhail turned to face the others. “May God bring you safely to your destination, each of you. Tell Kalzarius that Mikhail sends him a kind blessing, and wishes him well. I will deal with your pursuers, and if you need, there are supplies on the northern beach of Cat’s Eye Isle, two days north en route to Harlaheim.” the king sheathed his blade, and headed down the ladder back to his boat, followed by Prince Bryant.

“Father, do they have the scroll? Are they agents of Johnas? What did we gain from this boarding?” wanting more answers than the king was ready to give, Bryant, sole remaining son to the throne of Chazzrynn, pushed his questioning.

“Yes they have it. No I did not take it. They are true in purpose and word. I do not know that you found much, but I found peace and forgiveness here. More precious than any holy relic. We have preparations to make, son. You will take the Valhirst flagship, board her and search for Johnas’ men. I will head off the Altestani warship, driving her to deeper waters as to give our allies here a chance to outrun her and make it to Harlaheim. We meet back at port in Valhirst, Godspeed son.” the king had much love for his son, being all he had left from his deceased wife and queen, and the other boys long dead from war. He had taken Bryant under his wing, showing him all he could, knowing his days were numbered. He had to make the boy into the king that he wished he had been. “And send a writ of knighthood and a blue falconed sash to Sir James Andellis. He is aboard the Bronze Harpy now.” their boats going in different directions now, the king had to yell.

“The deserter from Southwind? Did I miss something father?” Bryant yelled back, confused as to what happened above deck in those few minutes he was below. He had never heard of a field knighting, at sea, atop a boarded vessel.

“That man is no deserter son, farthest thing from it in fact. You have your orders.” the king said a prayer to Alden the merciful, for he and his son to fight well in the afternoon to come, and thanked him for the humility and forgiveness His grace had shown him this morning.

James could not move, minutes later, staring at the deck, not fully comprehending what had happened. His sorrows seem to have been lifted and replaced with something far less heavy and tangible, and emptiness settled in as well. He had not known life without the grudge, the hatred, the resentment of all he had served that had killed so many. His friends all said something to him, tried to converse, an hour later a royal sash of the Knights of Chazzrynn was put around him and papers with fresh ink put in his hand by a royal emissary of Prince Bryant. Numb and void of pity or anger, for the first time in thirteen years, he was not able to use those feelings and memories as motivation to move. James Andellis was free, yet did not know what to do with that freedom. He smiled, trying to admit that this was better than any acknowledgements he had received in the last thirteen years of life, yet it did not hurt so therefore it seemed strange. Sir James Andellis breathed the salty sea air atop the Bronze Harpy, still in the moment as long as it could possibly be held.

Kendari I:VI

Temple of the Whitemoon, Chazzrynn

Disapproving trees that seemed to move and shrink their color away as he approached told Kendari that he was near the grove that would surround the sacred temple. The grass seemed to hiss at his boots, the wind moaned his presence, birds flew away without reason, and the sky darkened from wisps of cloud that did not heed the wind’s direction. He heard the faint music of the fey, his heart straining from the sounds in the distance, but he continued. Nareene the temptress, having taken him centuries ago in a moment of weakness, had burned her unholy brand of a triangle of flames in deep red on his chest in exchange for eternal services. Should the Nadderi near a sacred site, holy ground, feel love or compassion, he would surely fall in pain that could not be avoided, as was part of his Nadderi curse. However, the mark of the temptress protected him greatly from such pain, which had surprised more than a few that sought him out for death to make a name for themselves. The deep fey magicks and rituals had no effect on him, and he had happily ended many a life of a Hedim Anah hunter or Whitemoon guardian that assumed they had his weakness exploited.

Despite the simple pleasure of defiance as he closed in on the temple, seeing steps not too far away, Kendari felt bits of sadness stabbing his mind as the very earth stirred in his presence. So many centuries of nature fleeing his eyes, plants shuddering as he breathed, and the loneliness of knowing he was hated by most everything with a pulse of life gave him pain from time to time. He shook his head, retied his long black hair behind his marked face and pointed elven ears, and focused on the steps that lay open into the earth behind the circle of trees and holy stones.

“A Nadderi is not welcome here on sacred and ancient ground. Leave now, or be put to death, Kendari of Stillwood.” the hiroon wolflord, guardian of the temple, spoke stern and without mercy, his scimitar hilt in both hands, staring down his canine face at the strolling murderer.

“Great hiroon, I seek only a few books, a few heads, and a small serving of desecration for repayment of my most gracious gifts.” Kendari dragged his fingers slowly across his black veined pale face, sarcasm dripping from his smirk. “Now, where are the rest of my forest friends?”

“I am Jevendial, guardian of the temple, and I would much enjoy removing your curse from the world.” the hiroon sprung from his place in the shadow of the banyan trees, scimitar out in front, held high. He was fearless, like all his remaining race, and trained from a pup barely walking upright to use a blade.

“I will assist your extinction, hiroon.” Kendari drew Shiver from his left hip, and his enchanted longsword from the other, holding it reverse as always. Just in time as the canine warrior was striking with upward and downward crosscuts, driving the cursed elf back up the steps and out of the grove, missing his chest and stomach by hairs.

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Rubbing his small ivory horns, Bedesh silently crept on his hooves to Lavress, the only being in the temple who was not singing in the fey tongue, and the only one with his eyes somewhat open. He was standing, arms crossed, next to the right side of Princess Finwel-Dur, and motionless. “Lavress, what is going on? Everyone is chanting, what do
we
do?”

“
SSShhh
.” the wild elf hunter put his finger to Bedesh’s lips. “We protect the Princess, we remain still while they close the temple stair. Once sealed, it will move and reopen through the magicks of Seirena and the earth to a safer place. You will be fine, I believe we will be farther north, near Caberra in short time.”

Whispering even lower than his elven rescuer, Bedesh seemed concerned and wanted more answers. “What will we do there? Shinayne and Saberrak still need us, aren’t they heading to Valhirst or Harlaheim? How will we find them?”

Lavress looked at the satyr and smiled, enjoying his love for his friends and worry for them. The wood elf felt the same, but rarely spoke it aloud. “Trust in the Whitemoon, trust in me, we will find Lady Shinayne and the others. In a few moments we will be closer to where they are arriving. I would much like you to help me find the fourth book, but it will be dangerous, Bedesh.”

Bedesh looked at the elven bow in the other room he was given by Lavress, admired its design and the leaves on the flights of the arrows. “As long as we find Shinayne, I will follow you. But what of the hiroon, where has he gone? Why is he not inside if the temple is closing?”

“He is protecting it from the outside, he will remain here. It is his duty as guardian of this temple and its grounds and for all beings inside and outside of it. He must stay here so that it is guarded while we are gone and the other temple arrives.” again, Lavress crossed his arms, continuing to whisper, listening to the satyr, yet drifting off to feel the distance that existed now between him and Lady T’Sarrin.

“Protecting from whom? What is out there Lavv-r-r-ess-s? Why am I stuttering again, who would try and cause harm here? Tell me why I am afraid all of the sudd-dd-en?” his voice trembled, as if something had grabbed his throat, yet had not.

“You feel him here because you are akin to the fey, you know when something unnatural is near, much like the sphinx, the hiroon, the dryads, and the pixies. You know who has followed us here.” Lavress did not feel what the satyr did, but he could sense and see the fear all over his friend.

“Ken-en-dari? You have to help him, Kendari will kill him, I have-have-have seen him fight. He is a kill-ll-er Lavress. I am going-g-g to help the hiroon.” he turned, marching out to get his bow and arrows, certain that the Nadderi would come and kill everyone here if he did not. Fighting the trembling fear and terror of the thought of the cursed elf as best he could, Bedesh walked up the stairs.

Lavress Tilaniun did as instructed, protecting the princess, the closure of the temple, he was drifting away from consciousness. He trusted Jevendial would kill the menacing elf quickly, and that he would order Bedesh straight back down here upon sight. He smiled at the bravery of the young forest being, and listened once more to the melodious sounds chanted in the temple underground. The hiroon warriors were the most deadly cousins of the fey that walked the ground Seirena blessed, Lavress knew no cursed mercenary could take Jevendial on sacred ground. The melodies continued, and the hunter fell into trance, against his will.

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Kendari dodged to the left, parried with Shiver, crosscut with his backheld longsword now that he had closed in, but the hiroon was too quick to be fooled and spun right avoiding the easy cut. The Nadderi followed, now pursuing the wolflord, slashing near the neck with the heated blade and then cutting low at the thighs in rapid turns with his off hand. Jevendial backpedaled away from the low cuts and parried the high steaming ones with his curved sword, the heat in the air burning his nostrils. Not stopping his forward assault of metal, the cursed swordsman lunged with his outstretched blade, then rolled ahead as it was parried down, cutting with his left weapon across the back of the canine protector’s leg. The slight escape of a growl let him know he had cut deep, so he continued his maneuver past the hiroon, expecting him to now be on the attack. Before he could get Shiver on guard he was ducking and sidestepping scimitar cuts from an enraged wolflord. Precisely what he had intended. Kendari kept his breath in place, his parries and distance perfect, hoping to wear and bleed the guardian down for the final kill.

Jevendial knew his time was now precious, feeling the warm trickle of blood down his hide. His scimitar cuts short and fast, relying on technique and wrist more than strength now, he had to conserve his energy. He tried to hit low on his enemy’s blades, pushing him to withdraw and give the hiroon room to disarm one of those deadly swords. He cut low forcing a low parry, then high in one fluid motion, keeping the other blade busy in his foe’s hands, and then stop cut the elf’s attacks halfway with lightning flicks of the blade to his front, allowing nothing inside his guard. Jevendial began weaving, spreading his grip on the well balanced scimitar, up and down motions in repetition, swirling the blade in a figure eight forward pattern that had Kendari unable to do much more than parry and move. He waited for the moment when the cursed elf tried to attack, lunge, or anything offensive. Well outside the sacred circle now, the hiroon pushed on, driving the elf out further and further.

The Nadderi swordsman played along, waiting till it was believable that he would try something foolish, he would allow himself to be disarmed and finish this canine warrior in one cut. Feigning short cuts attempting to breach the weave of the scimitar, he moved in closer, sliding back and forth and left to right, looking for an angle to sneak Shiver through. Kendari lunged, and his blade held weak, it was disarmed to the ground. Bluffing a high attack with his off hand sword, he rolled low under the parry and crossed his wrists. As he sprung up from the obvious feint, he caught the blade intended for his collarbone in between his enchanted bracers. The clang of metal rang through the forest. Eye to eye with the hiroon warrior, he smiled, turned his forearms, reversed his grip on his blade with a flip of his fingers, and plunged it through the chest of his enemy. The hiroon stood, growling and struggling, his scimitar overhead and held away from making any worthy attack on the cursed elf. “
Not even close
.” he whispered into the canine ear of Jevendial.