The Exodus Sagas: Book I - Of Spiders And Falcons (55 page)

Skin peeled and stung as the arrow slit across Kendari’s thigh, and he heard a second one in flight from the grove below the stone steps he stood on holding up the dying canine. He gripped his blade in force and turned the hiroons back toward the trees, just as two more would have hit their mark. The guardian growled again, this time from two arrow tips through his back and protruding from his chest. Kendari peered over the shoulder of Jevendial, spotting the satyr in the center of the sacred grove with an elven bow. “Excellent work Bedesh, you have killed him for me,
nicely done
.”

The satyr felt tears in his eyes, froze in shock at what he had done, and dropped the quiver of arrows at his feet. Fear and sorrow hit him like a hammer to the chest as he saw the cursed swordsman let the body fall, with two arrows through him. Bedesh could not move, could not speak, just stared as Kendari picked up his other weapon and began to stride toward him.

Kendari stopped, looking down at the wolflord protector bleeding down the stones to the temple of the Whitemoon. He tilted his head, noticing a twitch and groan from the canine who was struggling to stand with his scimitar. He slashed Shiver’s edge clean through its throat, sizzling the blood as it cut. “Thousand apologies my lost prisoner, it seems it was
I who killed him
, but your help was
greatly
appreciated.” Kendari charged off the steps as Bedesh went for the quiver again, snapping from his shock.

The arrows flew, one after another, four then five, then six, the cursed swordsman cutting them out of the air with his twin blades as if he knew exactly when to strike. His speed was beyond human, his senses too keen, and his training far superior to the satyr with the bow. Kendari was upon his former captive, kicked the bow out of his hands, then the quiver skittered across the cold green grass, spilling the remaining arrows. “Please don-on-on’t, pl-pleas-ease.”

“Don’t
what
? Kill you?” with that the cursed swordsman thrust Shiver deep into Bedesh’s abdomen, slowly removing it as the flesh burned and blood flowed down his fur.

Bedesh yelled, a dying scream, louder than he ever had before, a scream of fear and terror, filled with regret and pain, a plea for help as he fell to the ground of the grove. “
Lavress
!”

Shinayne I:II

Carisian Sea, Harlaheim Waters

Air mixed with salt and spray from the Carisian Sea wafted into her breath, deep breaths of southern winter. Her aqua eyes drank in the view from the ship, ears the sounds of the seagulls that followed, and heart the open freedom. Lady T’Sarrin’s golden hair and rich skin shimmered as she lay her arms on the starboard edge of the Bronze Harpy, near the molding idol of a winged woman that decorated each side of the vessel. Hours passed with the men working the mast and riggings, setting the sails, checking with the captain on many a thing, and Shinayne stood staring and resting, enjoying the sea. Warmer waters of Kilikala, her homeland, raced back from memory where she spent much time at sea in training with the elven navy decades past.

Her dreams during the times when she closed her eyes were as much of those she had traveled with as they were with Lavress, wherever he may be. She saw James, healing with but a touch and a feeling, she sensed that his God, Alden, had touched him and saved him from the tortuous pain he had been putting himself through. Her thoughts of mercy and prayers of life for him spoke in her mind. The elven swordswoman had deep intuition that this human had been through far too much in his years, and carried great pain and guilt over something that he could not have avoided, yet took it all onto himself. That honor the king bestowed had helped, but not fully healed. The bottles were but the escape, not the deeper root of his agony. Breathing and focusing, in touch with her surroundings and at peace, she could tap into much of the emotion that radiated from others near. She felt that James Andellis and Gwenneth were somehow connected, but could not sense much from the wizard, she was far more guarded than the benevolent knight. He was kind, pure, and full of life and duty under his scars of flesh and heart. Shinayne smiled, seeing him care for the dwarven priest’s wounds.

The wizard had great power, it could be felt even if the elven woman had not been concentrating now, deep in her meditation and rest. Gwenne’s focus was on the scroll, on getting to Harlaheim, and on escaping her mother and the academy. Shinayne looked over at her, across to the port side of the ship, and sensed her secrets. Not details or thoughts, but that she had them, and was concerned about those that followed, those that waited, and much of her untested skills. She worried much, and her ego was much a front, despite her great talents and education, this human woman lacked confidence in herself. That is why she was here more than anything else, the elf felt, to test herself and prove to herself what she could do without her mother. A craving for more of all she knew, and did not yet know, pervaded her thoughts almost constantly like a hidden obsession. Shinayne could get no more from Gwenneth’s aura, and felt the need to stretch and breath with her blades in the wind of early morning sunlight.

Her purple and black clothes whipped around as she pulled and fastened them tight, walking to the center of the bow of the Harpy, the men clearing out of her way as she drew her swords. More peace, a deeper, harmonious peace overcame her, and she closed her eyes again. She felt the age of her matching blades, the curve of the ancient steel passed down for six long generations in her family, they each sang to her silently. The longblade in her right, shortblade in her left, she went to a relaxed on guard, and began to slowly move, step by step, bringing her arms out and pointing both weapons toward the bow of the ship. Her breath was slow, almost non existent, as she turned on her heal and toes, raising her blades outward as if lunging at the air, then stepping back and dropping them to gentle parries from enemy weapons that were not present. Her blades crossed as she crouched, then cut outward as she stepped up and out, again held high ready to strike with perfect style and precision at foes that only she could see. She began to hum a prayer to Siril, one that elven weapon masters taught students initially to perfect their timing with strike and step. The hum of that old elven song now brought her and the earth, the sky and her blades, into a union that reached yet deeper meditation.

The inner peace mixed with worry was not easy to sense on Azenairk Thalanaxe, his feelings buried like precious stones under mountains of faith and duty. Secrets too, he had some much larger than the wizard, and his mind danced with sorrow and prayer surrounding whatever it was he carried with him. Her blades weaved low, into parries and short cuts that only moved as she breathed deep of the open air. Many men on the ship now watching this beautiful creature dance with her swords, eyes closed and humming, her motions lingering in the morning sun. Zen was pious, caring, unselfish, and alone for certain. His cares stretched only those he traveled with, his cares for home seemed not to exist in his thoughts and glow. Shinayne felt his admiration for James and for the minotaur, and even sensed he thought of her often. A smile cast across her calm face, feeling his eyes upon her from the aft of the ship where he and James were talking, absorbing the loving thoughts he was emitting without him even knowing. The dwarven priest had a journey, and his heart hoped he would not be alone more than anything. The elven noblewoman sensed great purpose in Zen, and felt he would never be alone while seeking it.

Her longblade turned horizontal across her face, the shortblade low and pointed out, and then her steps of hard heeled boot advanced, cutting with her right, then lunging with the left, turning with cuts and slashes. Sensing the edge of the bow, she turned and rolled backwards, springing up slow and full of grace, her blades sheathed as she rose. Again Shinayne turned, eyes closed in deep rest and meditation, drew her weapons, holding them perfectly still across her chest. Her mind wandered below to the gray minotaur, his silent focus, his unspoken pursuit of something he knew nothing of, freedom. She felt Saberrak’s spirit had something unusual, unique, that even he did not understand. His strength and skills in battle were beyond confidant, but this surface world was strange, and the feelings and company of others he could trust were equally new and alien to the minotaur. Lady T’Sarrin wished she could teach him trust and companionship, yet realized his life had been anything but accepting of such things. She felt he trusted little, and only wished to get far from where he came from, by whatever means it took. The scroll he carried held much fascination for the elf, having an aura almost as powerful as a living being. Its pain and love like a widowed woman at her lover’s grave, its power like an ancient mystery that had been trapped forever. Something stood out on Saberrak, as she concentrated in stillness at the end of her kata, the minotaur missed his family. She felt a brother, a father, both in a place that he could not reach. Shinayne usually knew this meant that they were dead, but with the gray gladiator, she felt as if they were very much alive, but he had simply accepted that they would never be near him again. Great sorrow filled her chest and brought tears to her closed eyes. Shinayne had very much the same emotion deep inside, having not seen her real parents since she was a young child. She sat down with legs crossed to finish her meditation, and to think of Lavress and cleanse her spirit.

His body was still, much like her own at this exact moment. Lavress was deep in meditation right now, not more than three days from here, she felt him strong. He was in a place of music and safety, and he was thinking of her at the same moment. Only two elves, deep in their revered meditations, and sharing love, could possibly see and feel so detailed as to communicate. Lavress and Shinayne had done so many times, and once they had spoken in dreams for an entire night, even on different continents. She saw his form, standing, his ancient blades sheathed, his face of deep tan was calm with eyes closed. The tribal markings of leaves etched on his face like a decorated statue of the forest. His spirit said “Hello my love”, yet he did not move or speak.

“Hello beloved” she replied, no language could read or understand it, for their communication was above such things. She reached out and touched his face, caressing her hand down his finely chiseled features and up to the points of his ears. He returned with a gentle hand to hers, tracing her lips with his fingertip. Warmth entered her body and mind, warmth that he was sending to her and she readily accepted. The two shared moments of laughter that none in the world could possibly know of, deep and private.

“Are you safe, princess?” his emotion carried thoughts to her, the warmth taking vision of an embrace deep underground in a sacred place with the fey. She heard the music clearly now, felt the presence of others around him.

“I am safe and at peace, save for my longing heart” she kissed him, softly, prolonged as if it may take years for another one to occur. “I need you here with me”

“I am with you” the feeling that conveyed into words began to have the faintest hum to it, a resonating that was undeniably stronger than anything she had felt in decades. He drew his weapons, the forward curved falcata and kukri dagger, smiling, and weaved playfully.

Shinayne did the same, remembering her teachings in secret, in the grove of her homeland when he would visit and they would sneak away to be with one another. They danced, he only in the deep of meditation, but the elven woman did so also on the bow of the ship, her mind and body remaining one.

From stances of silent steps, to twirling slow parries, intermingled with the touch of lips and stares into each others eyes, the two lovers spent uncounted moments in spirit with one another, reliving the past and sharing warmth from so far away. A peace and love that no one could see, no one could touch, and nothing could stop. Laughter and release of every concern the two may have built up was freed, only the elves of different cultures dancing with swords in silence and passion existed at this time for Lavress and Shinayne. They both felt where the other was, and where they were heading, an unspoken understanding that they just knew. They silently vowed to find each other soon.

It stopped, suddenly. Lavress’ topaz eyes opening and face going stern like steel in an instant. The warmth faded, the sounds died away, and she screamed his name, but nothing came through. He looked at her, as if he or she was being dragged away. His gaze went to the others around him, farther now, colder, and then back to her. His gaze quickly, desperately, went ahead, to some place, something she felt was near, deadly and near. Shinayne tried to hold onto the thought, the connection to his spirit, but it faded too quickly. He began to walk, striding away with purpose that he could not share. Again she felt chill, like a dark cloud of poison penetrating her mind, and she could not tell what it was that had torn them apart.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, the cold of the open sea breezes pulled her awake against her will. Blades in hand, for how long she was unsure, the sun had moved across the western sky some distance, perhaps in had been two hours, maybe more. She saw the shadow of Sabrerrak, arms folded, looming over her as she lowered her guard and breathed in deep to stop the flow of tears. Longing to go back to the warmth, she turned, laying her head on the minotaur’s chest. Why she did not know, but to be held against someone real, to touch in this world and to feel another person next to her swept over her heart like an unstoppable wave through the rocks.

“What troubles you elf?” he whispered, placing an arm around her for support, for he knew not what else to do. Saberrak had never had a friend in all his years, only those he killed, wanted to kill him, or family he could not help. “You saw something, you yelled out, something attacked you just now, what was it?”