The Exodus Sagas: Book II - Of Dragons And Crowns (61 page)

The arrow was drawn and still, his amber eyes in perfect line with the shaft and steel tip directly pointed to the throat of the ogre guard on the left. Lavress waited until the raucus was just loud enough and seemingly on the rise from the beasts over the hill. Their dialogue and raised voices of guttural speech and hissing mixed with the Agarian tongue of men climbed more and more; and he fired. Before his deadly shot hit its intended victim, he drew another arrow and unleashed it into the ogre on the right and sheathed his bow in one fluid motion. Two short whistles of the wind being pierced by wood and steel ended suddenly with the breaking of flesh into ogre necks.

The ten foot tall beast on the right fell to its knees and then to the snowy earth, the projectile seemingly pierced the spine in the back of its neck by the violent twitching of limbs that followed. Tusks beared and mouth open wide with gurgling blood and rage, the ogre on the left
grabbed the spear leaning next to the pine tree and whirled around searching for the culprit that had violated his restful watch. The arrow was through the flesh and windpipe and protruding out the back side with
small bits of red dripping meat covering the tip. S
ickly purple eyes full of surprise
, it
caught a shadow flit through the darkening forest. The ogre of the west backed up toward the gathering of its kin, hoping to get attention. It attempted a roar or yell for aid to battle, but nothing emerged save more blood and the hissing of
air through a new orifice in its
neck. It felt steel cut open wide the back of its thighs, taking all remaining strength to stand away as it fell forward leaning on a wooden spear. Before another reaction could be made or sighting concluded on its aggressor, the ogre was released from all pain as a falcata severed its head from the body and all fade
d to empty black
.

The wood elf hunter caught the head by the greasy black strings of braided hair before it hit the ground and rolled downhill. He hid behind the pines, listening for any purs
uers that may have been within earshot
. Lavress watched the twitch of the dead body to his left, face down in the snow with an ever growing pool of dark red springing from its neck. A small river of blood ran downhill to where he had shot them, pouring strong from the decapitated ogre whose head he still held in his tightened grip. The hunter remained still for many moments, head of an enemy in one hand, crimson coated falcata in the other.
His pointed elven ears observed the words from afar, with each passing second his focus was closer and more clear.
He separated words from the overwhelming array of useless banter and savage speech that blanketed the valley below. Lavress turned to peer around the pine and down into the lower ground where the gathering was centered.

His eyes focused and ears honed in on every word through the jumble of sounds, Lavress steadied his breathing as he spied on the forces below his position. There were nearly a hundred trolls by quick count, and four of them held aloft a wooden platform with a throne. The chair was made of twisted vi
nes, petrified tree roots,
and skulls of many various siz
es and shapes all melded with bla
ck ichor long dried. Atop her swarm of giant hissing green warriors sat a female troll, her body barely covered with a garment of stitched skins that had rotted to yellow and black. Her hair was braided with animal bones and fangs, her claws as long as knives at the ends of her long thin fingers, and two rows of wicked black pointed teeth seemed to smile unnervingly as she hissed orders to her subjects. She stood, revealing her height of almost twelve feet and her four arms. Each arm pointed to different groups of her
slimy kin, issuing commands in some foul speech that Lavress had never heard. Bonfires cascaded into the evening gloom that settled into the valley south of Roricdale, and the sound of the ogre grew louder.

The ogre
were
double in numbers and equipped with spears, stolen blades and axes, covered in animal hides, and staying close to a hunched
figure they seemed to revere. Lavress could barely make him out, yet his clothing seemed reminiscent of regal garments and he held a curved blade at his side that was finely polished unlike the dirty rust covered weapons of his subordinate beasts. Large wolves of blac
k and gray, dozens of them,
leashed with chains and held by those that surrounded the noble figure of the ogre. The hunter focused in the dark of the shadows that encompassed this leader of the ogre tribes, trying to make out more detail from so far away. His skin was not the tan, yellow, and brown of his brothers. It was gray and rotted in places, plagued by disease that obviously had not killed him but had stolen the flesh and scarred his body. His hair was streaked with gray and one of his eyes was but a black empty socket. The wolves growled at the trolls as they came too close, followed by the hissing of trolls in return, then returned flexing of muscles and low grunts from the ogre. The queen of the trolls would shriek to an earpierce, then the ogre king would raise his hand and yell toward her as he gripped his curved blade.

The commotion would escalate then drift off as a black robed figure hovered off of the ground with his hands raised.
The hunter now saw a small group of human men with crossbo
ws in front of a caravan that appeared
faintly noble. Two dark clad swo
rdsmen approached without fear toward
the robed wizard as if
they were
waiting for an introduction. Lavress listened intently, ever watchful of his back as the missing sense of Eliah Shendrynn was still a mystery.

“Great Avegarne, king of the ogre
,
and great Mun Parr, queen of the trolls, you have traveled far to meet this night with the prince of Valhirst.” Salah Cam levitated a healthy seven or eight feet from the moist earth, his tattered robes crackling in the eastern winds. “May I present
my lord
and future king of Chazzrynn
, Johnas Valhera
!”

Hisses and growls went into the sky and down the valley south of Roricdale. The wolves howled as their masters pounded their chests and stomped their feet. The ogre were still as Avegarne the plagued walked forward. The trolls never stopped milling and writhing around the grand platform that held their four armed queen of the Hollowmoors, yet she was carried closer by her kin as well. The handsome human, surely Agarian by the blonde hair and green eyes, walked forward in step and was followed by a dark Harlian man who kept close by his master. Both human men had one black gloved hand on the grip of their blades, despite the line of soldiers with crossbows ready behind them near the horse drawn caravan. Johnas bowed, followed by Mun Parr and then by Avegarne.

“I come to you this evening with a proposition that I think you will find hard to refuse.” Johnas paced, his emerald pommeled blade throbbing as he spoke. He paid n
o mind, yet in his head
he knew he wa
s in the midst of someone that
would do harm to him. He had felt it upon meeting the ogre and trolls that led him to this spot. The kris blade sent him stronger urges and vibrations when he met Salah Cam minutes earlier
, as he came closer to the encampment
. “The kings of Chazzrynn have driven the trolls, the o
gre, and the barbaric natives
out of this realm in the south
and west
since they first arrived.
You have been used, hunted, manipulated, and killed for many centuries here. Was this not your land before they came?”

“Yesss Johnassss, but is it not youss that support ands strengthensss these kings with youss owns men
s
?” Mun Parr stood, much to the pain of her kin that carried her throne, and pointed two of her four clawed hands at the pri
nce of Valhirst accusingly. The
trolls that understood the Agarian tongue hissed at the prince and the red in the black of their eyes glistened as the furious screeches began.

The decrepit ogre king of the western wastes raised his hand, his men silent and reserved. “Does Johnas think we are fools? That you would give us part of the kingdom and lands beyond our ruins and swamps after we put our people to the sw
ords of the Chazzrynn armies?” g
rowls and snarls issued from the tusked mouths of the ogre, yet in the face of their king they remained still and disciplined far beyond that of the trolls across from them.
“To live in peace together? Do not make a mock of me or mine Valhera.”

Lavress listened in amazement, not wanting to believe that even the most corrupt noble would enlist the scum of trolls and ogre against his own kingdom of birth. He set the ogre head on the ground slowly, and with great care he sheathed his falcata. The hunter of the Hedim Anah, a mere two hundred feet from the bonfires that centered in this secret conclave, took his enchanted bow from his shoulder, then a griffon feathered arrow and took slow aim. He focused on the ogre king, then the queen of the trolls, the hovering sorcerer that appeared already dead, and then to Johnas Valhera. He paused.
He was not an assassin, nor a wanton murderer. The conflict of killing now to save life in the future was strong in his conscience. He struggled with it as the bow was aimed perfectly at the heart of the betraying noble. Lavress closed his eyes, silently asking Seirena for forgiveness for what he was about to do.

The smirk of insidious evil mixed with an intimidating stare erupted from Johnas’ face as he stepped under the floating wizard and into the center of the fires, dangerously close to the guarded nobility of much
larger beings. “Of course you would be suspicious, who would not? You have every right to be. I am entitled to the same distrust. What would happen if you all decided not to stop your conquest after the battles were won? Would you turn on me and continue on east and take far more lands and cities than were agreed? I run risk too, Avegarne. I place all that is mine up for t
he taking as well, Mun Parr.” h
e bowed slightly to each of the monstrous
leaders as he spoke, captivating them with innocence and slithering around direct answers to their suspicions. “The lands and cities west of the Garalan River must be assaulted and devesated. Hurne, Elcram, Kalik, Southwind Keep, and Roricdale all must fall to get the armies of the king drawn out of Loucas. Once the northern and eastern cities are left vulnerable, my men and I will move in and take the throne. I will move the armies behind him, in the guise of assistance, and finish him off if you have not done so already.”

“And then what, Prince of Valhirst? Or what if you never arrive?” Avegarne spoke even toned, but loud enough for all to hear.

“What wouldsss makes us certains that youss will betrays your own blood soos easily, Johnasss?” Mun Parr half hissed and half yelled through a multitude of black fangs.

“I care not for my people, not in that sense anyway. I follow my Agarian heritage, not that
of the king and the conquering blood of the northern kingdoms from which he is descended. I have men of my own, a small army that spans from here to Altestan in secret. This kingdom is my home, but there are two
men wanting to
rule here,
so
one must die. I enl
ist the help of my neighbors
where he would have you all dead or driven off. What can I do, besides enlarging your domains, to achieve a prospersous nego---“

Balric leapt in front of Johnas without hesitation or thought, the necklace and the binding enchantment had control of his actions. He had seen Salah Cam pull a dagger that was dripping with black liquid. From above Johnas, he drew it from his robes slowly and it began to glow with a black effervescence that looked menacing and wicked. Just as Salah Cam turned toward the Prince and looked down, the Harlian
swordsman dove past Johnas to p
ut himself in harm
’
s way. “My Prince
,
get down
!”

The arrow loosed from the enchanted bow he once gave to Bedesh, the brave satyr of Haven Glen. It whisked past the ominous skull throne of the troll queen, over the heads of the ogre and trolls that polluted the area, and was without fault heading straight for the
heart of Johnas Valhera. Lavress blinked slowly, knowing he had gone against his own morals for a greater good. As his eyes opened, he saw the Harlian man
leap into the air with outstretched hands intent on the hovering legs of the corrupt wizard. His hands gripped an ankle, and as he pulled down on the dagger wielding arcanist, the arrow intended for the crooked noble pierced Salah Cam through the back instead as he was pulled in
to its path
. Silence exploded from all present as Balric held Salah Cam to his saber, yet a protruding arrow was inches from his chin, an arrow that had gone clean through the wizard and was covered in black thick blood that could not be of a living human. Johnas looked up, as did all present, first to the arrow and Balric, then to the western hill from whence it must have originated.

The saber crosscut the dagger, forcing Salah Cams forearm out, then an upward slash from Balric’s blade severed the perilous poisoned dagger and the hand that held it. A third cut across down through the chest should have finished the old wizard
. I
nstead, Balric D’Vrelle felt a blast of blue energy from the open palm of Salah Cam that sent him tumbling backwards through mud and snow. He landed face down next to the caravan some forty feet back from the prince. His eyes were hazy and unfocused, yet Balric could hear the firing of dozens of crossbows into the ogre and trolls that surrounded Johnas. His ears picked up on more
arcane words as blasts of fire
and black arcs of electricity
that
ripped into the Valhirst soldiers from the wizard he had just run through. Ogre war cries followed with screeches of trolls that were too many to count flared into the night sky as the wolves were set loose into the morass of
chaos.