The Exodus Sagas: Book II - Of Dragons And Crowns (65 page)

Back against the wall next to the meeting room once more, Lady T’Sarrin quieted and slowed her breathing to an almost lifeless trance, opening he
r senses of hearing and focus
on what transpired in verse beyond the door. Simple mumblings at first, then askewed voices, and shortly the whispered tones became words and phrases in the Agarian tongue that
she could understand from afar as her elven senses tuned in closer.

“Listen Veuric, it is not like the other times, I assure you. These are not good peop
le we are talking about here
, they are spies from Harlaheim
and other realms
. Your father would have done this easily, and had the preparations all set by now. If your father were here---“

Shinayne listened to the voice she knew as Lord Marcell, sensing his tone of manipulative words and guilting
statements to be pressuring someone obviously younger.

“I know what my father would have done for ye’, Marcell, anything you asked! He lived in fear of that mountain that shadows our southern border, more of what would happen if he did not keep with your old customs! He had nightmares of the p
oor innocents taken to that cave
and—“

The elf listened to an angry youthful human man, pressured and confused, yet defending his deceased father she guessed, more than whatever it was they were corrupting him toward actually doing
now
. She heard footsteps pacing, yet not close to the door yet. Shinayne tightened her grip on her blades and watched the hall and stairs as she continued to listen
in the dark
.

“Your father, rest his soul, had nightmares because he did not
believe
! His faith turned
to that Alden
and the merciful poor man’s cross of weakness! He lost faith that in that mountain
,
in
God, nameless, all knowing,
secretely speaking to us here in Willborne, and God decides the weather, the storms, when the sun shines, and everything that transpires here! For a good season in the fields, guidance in our k
ingdom, healthy children their m
ust be—“

“A sacrifice, I know damn you
! I know
.”

“Every winter, a virgin. Every trespasser that would harm the struggling kingdom of Willborne, last country of the tru
e
Agarians
, must pay with blood. God was here before the men from the north came, when we lived simply, thousands of years ago. But we cannot just kill or capture and throw people to the mountain, you know this.”

“Of course I know, I am the last priest in the kingdom that knows the old passages that can never be written. Only in Bail
e
y can the priesthood live, next to the mountain. It takes hours to speak the passages in that divine dialect, I practice them weekly Marcell. I can only pass them to my firstborn son, or to a man of God’s choosing when or if he speaks to me on the mountain.
I know the traditions
, far better than you I think
.
I am not fighting you on the girl that was chosen for this year
’
s sacrifice. Just the last few years, all the others that---“

The elven noble perked her ears, hearing conversation from the two guards a floor below on the lightless balcony. Something about flatulence and having to rel
i
eve themselves she understood from afar, and understood it was not impor
tant to her.
Perhaps these men
find it amusing and needing
of
the description
s
of words to explain bodily functions
, she thought
in mild disgust
.
She focused her pointed ears once again, closing her eyes, and stretched her senses back into Lord Marcell’s chambers from her position outside the closed oak door.

Veuric sighed deeply, having solemnly given up
the fight in his words to Lord M
arcel
l
. “It is just that the last few years, I would venture seven or so, I have been charged with quite a few sacrifices to God on the mountain. Trespassers, spies, betrayers, almost as if I am part e
x
cecutioner and part priest. If it is God
’
s will, let it be done. However, there is something in my chest that tells me it is not.”

“Losing faith is a difficult matter, and one that I must insist you reconcile quickly. The season is coming, we need these rains to continue, we need a good harvest, and we need Willborne to rise again from the stomping boots that put her down. We need a king, Veuric, and the more we give to God, the true God, the sooner we will have the glory of his blessings. I ask you to do your holy duty again, this morning, and I am merely adding to the tithe.” Lord Marcell sat down heavy in his leather chair in the
candlelight. He paused, waiting for more words of disheartened clarity from the last priest in Willborne.

“No one but me knows the old tongue, the words that call God
’
s attention, or how that cavern looks on the inside. Only I can step foot inside, until I have a son that is. Marcell, my lord,
my wife
Rinli is with child. After two daughters, I feel this one will be a boy.”

Shinayne heard cracking in the resolve of word and spirit as the man spoke to the Lord of Bail
e
y. She felt the crickets preparing to make their midnight song, the nightbirds eyeing their prey, but nothing louder than the pai
n in this priest
’
s heart was there
at this moment. She kept her shoulders pressed to the stone and tried to keep her focus all around, realizing she had been far too embroiled on the conversation and had forgotten that she was a spy here.

Lord Marcell chuckled with contentment. “That is good Veuric, I am happy for you.
Our way of life, our town, and our people will live on by passing down the ancient words and---“

“I have dreamed of my son being a great warrior for Willborne, a knight that would unify, that would lead with justice and kindness. I felt a father
’
s pride and future as soon as she told me that she was pregnant once more. Then, I realized he would have to learn these words, that he would never leave Bail
e
y, and he would be relegated to this priesthood, this secret religion, and to interpret the will of a being we cannot see and has no name. I do not want his days and nights to unfold as mine have, Marcell. Can I not pass these things to another? May I have your blessing to lead a normal life? To have my son be not under the shadow of a bloodied cavern
in the mountain
?” Veuric began to sob as his words choked out in fron of the Lord of Bail
e
y.

Crackkk, craccckk, smack
! Marcell’s gloved hand hit three times
across the young pagan priest’s
face. “And I wish to have a united Willborne! I have but this pathetic village and a mountain that God dwells deep under to claim as mine! Katrina holds most of the ragged kingdom under mercenary rule and we Agarians fight each other, her, and the slow inception of the Aldane ministry into the hearts of our people. I do not care if a hundred foreigners die in that sacrificial cavern each season if it means God watches over us and it gives Willborne a chance to withstand
the torrents of time and change!
The last kingdom free of northern religion, uninfluenced by the looming Altestan, and tru
e
to wha
t this land was when we arrived
we are! And you will do your duty to the old God of Agara, and your people, and it will pass to your son. Understood
!
?”

“Yes Milord, it shall be done.” Veuric stood up and cleared his throat and crushed dreams away to speak as a man of strength. “The spies of
Harlaheim and the virgin Taira will meet God tomorrow. I will go to the mountain and beg
in speaking the prayers at dawn, f
or his blessings upon our people and our country.
”

“Good Veuric, very good. Katrina arrives tomorrow as well. Despite her love of coin and power, she does still hold the most sway in this troubled kingdom without a king
and she is faithful to the mountain
. Keeping her wishes granted while we wait for her to be killed by the quiet nobility is our mission. She wishes to have these travelers
killed
, the dwarf and the
minotaur
mostly. The dwarf has something
she wants
as does the minotaur, but she would not tell me what. I fear her ties to other kingdoms has
the forefront of her intent
, much to the distaste of the rest of us vying for the throne of Willborne. We need to keep her placated until the time is right for her end. Now go and prepare, I will handle the rest.” Marcell sat back down with a faint flicker of hope for change to be soon forthcoming in his troubled lands.

Shinayne heard them shake hands or embrace in some manner, and begin walkin
g toward the door. Quickly, the steps of the elven noble dashed to the
spiral stairs
, over the tripwire at the top and she stopped still on the fourth step down. The guards from the second floor balcony were clanking their way up the spiral stairs toward her, yet unaware of her presence. Shinayne turned, hearing the door open from the hallway that she had been eavesdropping on. The elven swordswoman knew that she had to warn her friends and the men with Capitan Norrice before they w
ere taken
. She glanced at the chandelier with the wire attached to it, the curved golden supports, old chain to the ceiling, and the dozens of lit candles
that all hung over a thirty foot drop surrounded by a spiraling staircase.

“This would be less than practical or wise in
any
other situation. Siril, guide my steps please.” Shinayne backed up half a step to load her leap over the railing
. Keeping her keen
eyes on the wire that was fastened into the center of the golden decoration, she leapt from a high step to the wooden rail and hurled her lithe form into the air. One hand reached the base of the wire while the other grasped the golden base of the now much larger suspended chandelier.
Her airborn body swung gracefully to and fro, candlewax dripping down her cloak and armor, splattering into her hair and the stone floor far below. The wicks extinguished with the flood of hot wax leaving a dark smokey vaulted ceiling in lieu of a well lit stairwell. The two guards stopped at the base of the stairs to the third story, sensing something was not as it should be. The door opened from
Lord Marcell
’
s chamber, and Shinayne glimpsed the shadowy robed figure of a young man walk out first and then stop. His hand went into the air to signal the man behind him to halt.

“Milord, something stirs in your keep. Stay back.” Veuric drew his longsword, as did the Lord behind
him followed by the two guards
below at the
landing
.

“Candles snuffed recently, check the stairs.” Marcell moved past the armed priest in the dark of the castle halls, knowing that someone had been been here and curious as to how they avoided the tripwire. The heavy spring fogs of Willborne blocked the light from the moons, making it nearly impossible for him to see into his own stairwell. “Guards, summon the others from the barracks and scour the—“

Shinayne felt trapped, hanging helpless with nowhere to go but down to a deadly fall or to swing back to the stairs inbetween four armed men in the dark. For her, the choice was simple, and she tugged the wire with all the strength in her wrist as she swung back and forth to gain some momentum. The trap sprung and a stone slab fell directly in front of the hallway pass blocking it from the stairs, a slab of worked stone that would have crushed anyone traversing the steps ignorant of the wire. Just as Marcell and Veuric backpeddled from the
separating rock wall, every other step on the stairwell fell into a dark oblivion, splintering moments later onto steel spikes far below. The guards turned back toward the ruckus of the sprung trap and the dusty cloud that flashed from the impact of the stone wall that had fallen.

“Capture them, him, whoever it is! Guards!” Lord Marcell could see nothing from his vantage now, only the faint shadow of someone swinging on the chandelier in the dark up onto the railing of his stairs. Then the figure was gone, a sto
ne wall betwee
n he and the perpetrator. He turned toward the open end of the hall, knowing he would be taking the long way around to the rear of his keep since the spy had used his own trap against him. “This way priest, hurry up!”

Shinayne T’Sarrin slid down the railing past the two dumbfounded and nightblind guards. They raised their blades and shields as she passed, knowing something rushed in the dark, but barely able to sense each other in the blackness, let alone anyone else. They yelled for more of their kin and fellow guards, tried to see or follow the elven woman in the night, but it was as if she did not exist. The elven swordswoman r
aced through shadows and
the cover of trees and walls back to the front of the keep. She waited until the guards of the main hall heard the calls of their brothers and ran to aid on the rear side of the keep. The moment they
moved, so did she, and back into the guest room
under the torchlit hall she stepped with grace and speed only capable by an elf. Shinayne opened the door, pulled herself around it, and slammed it shut in the blink of an eye.