The Exodus Sagas: Book I - Of Spiders And Falcons (8 page)

She walked to the edge of the pond, staring into the dark blue waters, searching for an answer in the lifeless reflection. None came. Shinayne closed her eyes, she was no tracker like Nathaniel, she did not know where to go from here she admitted to herself. The trolls would return at night, perhaps ogre during the day, and now only she and the satyr remained. The elf envisioned her lover, Lavress Tilaniun, his darker skin almost brown, his tattoos of honor from his homeland Gualidura, his piercing amber eyes staring into her aquamarine orbs trimmed with silver, and his long brown hair pulled tight behind his pointed ears. She recalled every visit to the island capital he made as emissary from his wood enshrouded kingdom, sneaking away to tell stories and share warmth. She recalled, after seventy or more years together, when he was offered to join the Hedim Anah, usually reserved only for noble elves from Kilikala, not a wood elf savage like Lavress. The Hedim Anah, guardians of the Court of Whitemoon, was a group that sought to protect the elven secrets of any of the elf realms, even from other elves. The temples of the Whitemoon were few in Agara, and the Court of the Whitemoon moved throughout them in secret always protected by the Hedim Anah. Whether diplomatic travels, guarding royalty, scouting for signs of danger, or hunting down stolen relics, Lavress must go where they ordered. It was a great honor said to be chosen by Seirena herself, Goddess of the fey, and then passed to her son Siril, God of the elves, and then directly to the elders of the mysterious court. Grand stories told to elf children and passed on through the ages, yet still an honor that few may ever understand lest they receive it themselves.

Shinayne remembered the tales Lavress told her in private of tracking Altestani spies from the human empire of the north, foiling Shalokahn elf ambushes from rival families, and her lover’s last mission to hunt down Eliah Shendrynn the rogue high elf wizard who had stolen four of the eleven tomes of high magic from Kilikala. She daydreamed of the preparing she did in secret from her uncle, the king of Kilikala, training with griffon riders, stowing away on elven vessels to learn the seas, and coercing the high elven guard to let her train with blades in the Junael Forests. All over decades of secrecy of love, passion, hope, and dreams that she now followed despite King Naladra’s orders.

Shinayne paced back toward kneeling Bedesh, appreciating his silence. “Which way now, my friend? The tracks lead through the ruins to the south, Nathaniel said last night.”

“My lady, perhaps we should...” he was cut off by a stare to end all stares, from the most beautiful elf he had ever met, and one that beamed her sad eyes at him now.

“If you intend to honor his death, and our friendship, Bedesh of Haven Glen, then please do not dissuade me from what my heart is telling me. I will not merely give up. Now let’s be off.” Her high elven dialect was difficult for the satyr, but the message was undeniable, they were heading deeper south after Lavress, who was after some other dangerous elf.

Bedesh knew well enough that she would not be swayed, that her emotions would only further her determination and that further south meant even more cold. He wondered if she knew how it was to be out in this weather with only fur. Feeling the obvious from his partner, Bedesh picked up the longbow, Nathaniel’s longbow and quiver of arrows, and followed the elf south over a worn stone bridge into yet more ruins. He glanced over his shoulder to where the stone collapse was heard some time ago. The satyr did not like this place, having more than a chill air to raise his covering of brown hair.

The elf maiden kept her hands on her blade grips tightly, sneaking softly around the corner of an old stone building, she could smell feces fresh and strong. Shinayne heard the crunching of bone and meat,
something eating something else
she thought feverishly. Peering round, she caught sight of an ogre not twenty feet away, yellowish skin dabbled in blood and crumbs of meat and squatting over a black horned deer, or what was left of it. Sensing the approach of her small horned friend from behind and feeling the presence of his shaking bow ready, she raised her leather gloved hand for him to stop, reaching back without looking and touching one of the little white and furry horns on his head to calm him.

“Lady T’Sarrin, an ogre, oh, let me kill it where it sits.” whispered the forest satyr, trembling with fear, shaking with anger at the defilement of a beautiful male deer being ravaged in such a manner.

“Not yet, their may be more to the ...”
Thewwwmmm
, the arrow loosed from Nathaniel’s bow and a spark of green mist followed the enchanted bolt reminding the two of them that the weapon had fey magic enchanted upon it. Through the neck and the tip bursting flesh on the other side, the ogre dropped his kill, reaching to pull the bloody arrow with one hand and grabbing for a greataxe that was at least a foot taller than the elf woman.

“Damn it Bedesh!” Shinayne cursed through her pursed lips drawing her curved elven longblade in the right and matching shortsword with the left, moving quickly to the bleeding beast. With one fluid motion she slashed across the thick animal hides covering its chest drawing more blood and knocking it back, cutting its armor and flesh. Then with the off hand she plunged the blade deep above the ribs near the heart, perfect in form and stance. The eyes of the ogre rose barely to hers, still sitting, and then closed and the body followed into death, slumping to the ground over the deer. Not a sound, the two stood perfectly still, listening, looking at each other unblinking, and waiting for more ogre to come out of somewhere. The satyr readied a second arrow not paying mind to the fact the beast was dead before he could think to reload, dead from the elven speed of his companion.

“Next time, when I say hold, you hold.” She turned to look at the beast, examining its size of nearly twice her own, and the smell. “Ogre shit where they eat, Bedesh, which must be the foulest thing I have seen yet in this journey. Let us move on, carefully this time please.” said the elf looking down under the kill of the deceased ogre and spying the source of the stench.

“Sometimes I pee when I run or get excited …sometimes.” shrugged the satyr, glancing at his own small puddle below with rapidly blinking eyes. He was not overly disgusted with where one relieves themselves, ogre or otherwise, he had grown up in the forests and was of the forest after all.

Through what must have been a main road into the center of this city, centuries in deprivation, the two walked along broken cobblestones and frosted brown weeds growing through the long lost street. More silence, birds moving from window to broken ledges as they passed, yet a curious bird remained perfectly still atop an old flagpole from an unrecognizable ancient building. An owl, white with black spots and two long draped tails stared at them, following their every move from its rest some fifteen feet high, the yellow eyes blinking in the cold breeze. “Two-tailed watch owl. That would bring ten pounds of gold coin from any noble, even here in the south.” admired the woman, watching in awe at the calmness of the large bird in such a place as this. Feathers reminded her of Lavress, Shinayne concentrated on her lost lover, his features, her feelings, and kept close eye for any tracks that he might have been following, sure that she would see none of his, she never had. They had been only hours behind what Nathaniel was sure were the tracks of Eliah Shendrynn and had seen evidence of someone close behind the thief of a wizard and traitor to his own people. Shinayne was sure it was Lavress that followed, she could feel it.

The elf crouched down on a knee, slowly drawing her matching curved blades, keeping the longblade out further than the short one in guard form. She had heard something moving from behind and from the front, behind a set of monuments and above ground tombs near what was left of an unknown temple. She also knew with her elven senses, that whatever came from behind was cautious, whatever was approaching from the old cemetery was not, and that there were even more behind them. She looked to the sky, silently but consciously asking for protection from Siril, son of Seirena, God of the elves. There were three trolls now, hissing and squinting their black eyes in the overcast daylight, shivering a bit, yet hungry and moving to surround the two forest companions. She looked to her friend who was aiming the opposite way, and then she looked for an escape route, not to flee, but to prevent them from being encircled by trolls and the horned beast that Bedesh was aiming at with the bow.

The satyr held tight his grip, hearing silence from the elf and seeing trolls with his peripheral vision, yet he could not remove his stare from the massive gray minotaur that slowly walked toward him. Arms at his side holding a great double bladed axe and a grappling hook and chain, quietly and carefully it walked, head and horns lowered, staring at him with those eyes and tattoos of horns under them. A murderous beast with almost as little clothing as himself coming straight for him, and Bedesh froze in fear. He had seen trolls and ogre, even a giant once in the Bori mountains, but never a minotaur. He glanced over his shoulder seeing Shinayne ready and poised to face three horrid green trolls, their ribs showing from lack of food, and he took a breath, waiting for an order or guidance from the woman. Heavy breath formed out of the nostrils of the gray beast as it huffed out a threatening grunt from its chest, snapping Bedesh’s attention back forward. Heavy footsteps and more snorting grunts from the minotaur as it began to move faster now, lowering its shoulders and jogging toward the satyr’s readied bow. He looked again at those eyes, not sure if they were directed at him or past him, so he moved his head to the side of his aim to see if the gaze followed and it did not. The horned killer was not even paying attention to the satyr and gained more speed. Closing quickly, Bedesh whirled around seeing the trolls almost within arms reach of Shinayne, and let an arrow fly into the closest one which had three arms. Screeching sounded the same moment the arrow struck with a green flash of the arcane and Bedesh quickly reached for another arrow, the trolls lunging for the elf. He silently prayed that he did not turn his back to a minotaur that was about to kill him.

Her longblade swung high at the first trolls face, feigning to back up a step and miss, then she stepped forward twice under the beasts’ claws, slashing the curved off hand sword across its abdomen. Shinayne tucked into a roll to the left, avoiding the other two, stood up cutting across the low spine with the longblade and twice with the short through the spine on the third cut. Another arrow whistled through the cold above the elf’s head into the eye of her adversary. The troll fell bellowing its screams at the sky, its top half collapsing onto its lower half, squirming and reaching out at her as she backed up on guard for the next.

Two left, and then there was only one a blink later as some mass of gray muscle, horn, and steel hurled through the air and went rolling with its unsuspecting prey in a blur of roaring and screeching. Shinayne paid no mind to what beasts did to other beasts here, she focused on the wretched one closing in on her, swatting at foot long black claws as they ripped toward her face. Sidestepping and deflecting as fast as the troll could come at her, she waited for the right moment. The two encircling each other, the elf on the defensive end of weaving claws and then it lunged to grab her. Yet another whisk of green mist as the arrow from Bedesh hit true in the other trolls chest. The woman turned around on one foot to the right, blades out at shoulder height, the small curved blade sticking into the trolls arm on completion of the turn, the longblade severing the limb above the elbow in a fluid motion. She followed with inhuman speed and accuracy with an upward slash, reversing the grip and pointing the tip through the throat of the howling fanged beast and continued the stroke through the jaw and into the skull. The troll spun around, despite the pain it inflicted to itself as it was impaled, and tried to reach her with its remaining arm. She easily ducked and riposted with the shortblade cutting across the throat nicking her other sword then finished the cut with a backhand slash through the neck. The green blood covering the inscriptions on her swords, then splashing onto her leather boots, she mercifully and with disgust, cleaved what strand still held the fiends head on and turned toward the south, ready to face whoever stood up first.

“I think, my lady, that minotaur hates trolls as well. Might want to let him finish that one.” said the satyr, still pointing his arrow at the two combatants. The two watched for a few seconds, the screeching and snarling stopped, the snapping of the backbone from an axe ensured that.

The minotaur stood, turning and walking confidently toward the two, “The third ran off with your arrow in it, little horned one, there will be more very soon.” the minotaur spoke in Agarian.

Stares, the two looked at each other, then back at the hulk of horned danger before them, both surprised that yet another fight for their lives was not about to begin. Neither companion had thought this beast would speak Agarian, let alone fluent. Only the satyr showed his relief. “Bedesh of Haven Glen, big horned one, and this is Lady Shinayne T’Sa...”

“Well met and all, but it can wait” snorted Saberrak, walking past them and peering over some old stone wall, smelling the air. “Ogre, many, I can smell them. Which way out of this place?”

“We are traveling south, minotaur, and until I have your name, there will be two of us heading that way.” retorted Shinayne arrogantly. Despite her noble demeanor, she too, was sensing the pursuit of many creatures from the north and west, the inner city. They were now being hunted and had attracted attention. Her stubbornness would not sway and she stood her ground, cleaning her blades on her cloak, nose raised and waiting for an answer from this gray bull-man.