The Exodus Sagas: Book III - Of Ghosts And Mountains (25 page)

“Relax Gwenneth Lazlette, we will make it to Evermont in Shanador soon enough. Just through these mountains and head north is what Ansharr told us. Then, you will be able to rest in a large educated city for a bit.” Shinayne looked to the gutted goat, yes, all the organs were being cooked and Dalliunn was scraping the hair off as it burned. To spite Gwenne, she did not flinch, though the smell was awful indeed.

“How far was this again?” Gwenne covered her mouth and nose from the rank smoke of charred goat hair, and tried not to look.

“A month.”

“Oh by all the Gods and Godesses, I will never survive this.”

“Yes you will now, have some goat, for strength.” James took the piece that the lewirja offered and bit into it. He chewed, the flavor was salty, the meat rare, yet the paste on the burned skin added a tingly spice that held a sweetness to it that made his tongue forget. He did not think of worms, parts, roots, or undercooked meat. He thought of sugared apples and mutton together in a bite. He took another, then looked up at the faces of his friends all staring at him.

“It’s good, have some.”

“
Jumma jillias ahk
!” Dalliunn handed pieces all around after seeing the male human smile and eat.

“I cannot believe I am about to eat this.” Gwenneth took a bite, then calmed as it was not as bad as she had expected.

Shinayne and the others all ate, drank their water, and rested in the shade for an hour. She never stopped watching the clouds, like her lion-man friend, as they both seemed to know something was up there, looking for them.

“
Krillli immmieye rill rill
.” Dalliunn pointed up to the sky and to the south, then to the east.

“I know my friend, I know. I was thinking the very same thing. Time to move.”

Johnas III:II

Carisian Sea, Harlaheim Waters

“It will never succeed, Harlaheim nobility is not as naïve as you assume, Prince of Valhirst. Many of Richmond’s knights are but swords with names, but some are not. Those
some
are tied to the church, albeit few, but the Order of Saint Tarumin is strong there, they will never allow you to take the throne in any fashion. Not for long.” Balric D’vrelle could not believe what he was hearing from the patriarch of the White Spider. He wondered how Johnas survived so long with such insanity.

“You are very confident, I like that. It is like a virgin who revels in her chastity without realizing she has been sold to a harim for twenty gold coins. I am months and years ahead of what you have eluded to, far more aware than you can imagine. When will you learn,
my spy for the Broken Wing, assassin for the secret Aldane Order of the Crossguard Legion which supposedly does not exist
, that I am quite unstoppable.” Johnas drank the fine wine, poured another, then lit a pipe in the confines of the captains cabin. He looked out the window, watching the rough summer waters at night toss the galleon this way and that. He kept comfortable with pillows stacked upon an old trunk he seemed fond of.

“I have no idea what you are speaking of, it is—“

“Stop the games and the lies Balric, it is truly unfair I know. The kings send their best and deadliest, then the church picks out from the Legion and trains you in secret. The letter arrives that you have died in training or battle, whilst you train underground somewhere between Acelinne and Saint Erinsburg. Those that have not the stomach for it, they are sent to Saint Tarumin. Those that can kill without query, they continue in the Broken Wing.
Alden’s little killers
, all hidden in guises that protect bishops and cardinals and kings that pay the church more handsome than others. I have my contacts, my spies, and they are world spanning, far beyond the confines of any religion. Wine?” Johnas Valhera offered some of the ship’s wine, King Mikhail’s in truth, but he had stolen the ship fairly.

“Regardless of your illusions and false theories, what would be the gain for anyone in their right mind to want you in Harlaheim?” Balric took the goblet, it mattered little three days from his kingdom of birth whether he drank or not.

“Trade.”

“That is all?”

“Trade, money, and access to more trade and money. Tis’ the way of the world my friend, in case no one had informed you of the change in the times.” He kicked the chest, it rattled, and Johnas smiled.

“I believe merchants have been trading in Harlaheim for well over two thousand years, a bit before your time I might add, so you are not at all convincing.” Balric watched as two men entered the cabin, Johnas’ men, nodded, and left.

“Yes my Harlian friend, and that monarchy has bled them dry, gave nothing to the church, and hoarded for centuries. They are at war with Caberra every other generation, have no friends in Shalokahn, and are resentful with Shanador. No one cares of Willborne truly, but that is neither here nor there. And lastly, Altestan. No one would dare trade with Altestan, but let me rephrase so you understand. No one is
willing to be the first
to trade with the mighty empire of the north, but every one of them would be the second in line should someone open those routes. Get my meaning?” The Prince grabbed a corkscrew and began opening another rare vintage from the Morninghawk, the personal galleon of the heir prince to the throne, Bryant Salganat.

“And you will attain all of this, this trade and opening of roads to the most hated nation and race in the known world? You won’t last a month Valhera.” Balric eyed the platinum ring on the finger of the man he despised, the ring that was tied to the necklace that kept him under command. He wished he could have it off for just three seconds, just three.

“I know. Between Bishop Javiel, the Cardinal of the Aldane, Lord Knight Errant Savanno and his knights, young Richmond the Second, Cristoff the Third, and the queen who is originally a Caberran princess, it will be difficult to eliminate the opposition.”

“Exactly.”

“So I have. The Cardinal is already dead and replaced while on the road with the Crossguard Legion. Courtesy of Ariili, one of my eldest doppelgangers. The queen is gone, Savanno and his knights have been killed for treason and conspiracy, Javiel was beheaded for revolt, Cristoff is in exile, and Richmond thinks that this royal ship holds emmisaries from Chazzrynn who are arriving to honor the Legion and the church in his city. He will be most disappointed when you put your saber through his chest and I take his kingdom, well, when the Cardinal signs it over to me that is.” Johnas exhaled, the smoke filling the small ornate cabin.

“You are pure evil, yet you will not succeed, the other kingdoms will not allow it.” Balric summoned his anger, for hearing word of all those he had served being killed was like a dagger in his chest, he did not want to believe it. Not matter how hard he tried, the anger would not allow him to overcome the enchanted necklace about his throat.

“Caberra wants revenge for Richmond losing his daughter. Willborne, well Katrina is a mercenary, enough said. Shanador is mighty, but they listen to the church as much as their high king and the ten low kings that rule, so that is all tied up. Altestan already smuggles into Kivanis. That leaves old Armondeen, Shalokahn, and some elven and dwarven realms that someday the empires will wipe out regardless, like they always do. I do believe it is truly genius. They want slaves, harems, opium, and gold. I have plenty of all, and I will secure the trade routes with soldiers and blades. They can have the north, but I will rule the south, dear Balric.”

“You forget Chazzrynn, the mighty Kalzarius, the far west, and that the nobles of Altestan do not favor you, and never will.” Balric looked to the door, a knock, the captain of the ship dressed in his fine Chazzrynn blues and armor entered with a lowered head and troubled brow.

“Chazzrynn will not have a king nor heir within a month’s time, Kalzarius has not been seen, and who truly cares about the rest. Gold is God now, there is no honor left in the world.” Johnas drank more wine, smoked the fine pipeweed, and exhaled into the captain’s face. “Yes, captain?”

“I just wanted to know that my wife and daughter were well, alive and…just please…are they allright my Prince?” The captain tried not to sob, but the tears came anyway.

“I am not sure captain. Are we in Harlaheim without any errors or hindrance?”

“Almost, three days longer at the most, please Prince Johnas, for Alden’s sake, are they allright, I need to know.” The Chazzrynn officer hit his knees.

“Balric, open the trunk you are sitting on.” Johnas stood and opened his first, seeing a bound and gagged woman with red hair and tears streaming down her dirty cheeks. The man’s wife seemed well enough to him.

The Harlian swordsman could not breathe as he opened the trunk. He had no idea what was in it the whole of the trip. He looked down to a girl, maybe ten, with blonde hair in curls and blue eyes filled with tears, shaking in her nightclothes. She looked up to Balric. He went to grab her.

“Stop. Close the trunk Balric. Captain, your wife and daughter are fine, but I would get us there a bit faster, they seem hungry.”

Balric did what the necklace made him do, against his will, he closed the lid. He stood, refusing to sit there any further. He glared at Johnas and fought his own tears by biting his lip.

“Thank you my Prince, we will be ahead of schedule, please, please, don’t hurt them.” With five men behind him, some doppelgangers in guise and some human agents of the White Spider dressed as Chazzrynn navy, the Captain begrudgingly left to his duties as outlined by Prince Johnas Valhera. He had no choice.

“You are a monster, not even human, and I pray I am there at your end.” Balric watched the blonde Agarian man sit back down and tap the trunk as he smiled.

“Doubtful, but I will be there at yours. They behead assassins of monarchs in Harlaheim, but I am sure you already knew that.” Johnas chuckled, pointing an accusing finger for crimes he had yet to force Balric to commit.

“I will see you dead, somehow, someday. I promise you. If not me, it will happen by my word.” Balric shook, his hands trying to reach for his saber, his dagger, they would not go.

“I am not at all frightened of you, D’vrelle. Do you know why I tell you all my plans so often?”

“Amuse me.”

“If you did manage to escape, which will never happen, who would you run to? I am surrounded by blades, minotaurs, doppelgangers, or my assassins night and day, so you would indeed run.” Johnas drew his blade, the curvy kris shortblade with the strange dark emerald pommel. He felt it throb in his hand, he closed his eyes.

“To the church, the high monarchs, the Aldane, anyone with a conscience.” Balric smiled, watching a madman romance a blade in his hand like it were a piece of priceless art.

“Yes, and with the monarchy wanting you for murder, the church in my palm, and all allies of those that you know dead, you would have to go far. Far enough that no one would care.”

“I would find someone, I assure you.”

“Yes, very well. And do you think, beyond a doubt, that any sane person would believe the insanity about a noble Prince such as myself?
The White Spider, murderer, his webs are everywhere, he brands them on the shoulder, he sees everything, in every city, underground even!
No, they would think it a crazy tale, from an insane Harlian man who cannot abide his king being replaced by Johnas Valhera, a foreigner. And that is if I take it myself, I may place it simply in the power of one of mine own. Hence, the perfect plan, even should you oneday, elude me.” His green eyes opened, staring at Balric, waiting for a response.

“I will find a way.”

“And since Vanessa Blackflame is revealed as one of my closest agents and no longer a threat I can hold over you, do you happen to have any family in Harlaheim that I may watch for you, until you come to your senses?” He smiled again, grinning from ear to wicked ear.

“Bastard, you are a dead man!” Balric fought with every muscle until his face turned blue, it was no use. He and the White Spider were heading to Harlaheim, in Prince Bryant’s pirated vessel, and he was powerless to do anything about it.

“Ahhh, that would be a
yes
then, I will look into the matter upon our arrival, be certain.” Johnas laughed, from the maniacal pit that no human should have, yet he did, and he laughed some more on top of that.

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The black mask was cloth, still hard to breathe as he was unaccustomed to it. The blood was drying on his face and hands, not his own, but the blood of Lord Russavagan who had died early this morning. The battles had gone back and forth for days and nights, Bryant would not give in. Traps, poisoned arrows, surprise skirmishes, doppelganger assasins, and sudden drops into spike filled pits had left him with less than four hundred men.

Only Lord Ibromm was still with him, dressed the same in stolen black clothing and leathers. They had killed nearly one hundred of the Valhirst assassins, ten of those had turned into pale hairless shapeshifters upon death. They stole the clothing off the rest, disguising a platoon as agents themselves, trying Johnas Valhera at his own game. Bryant had ordered the forces split, his men to the north tunnels, Ibromm’s to the eastern ones, and he and the lord with him would head deeper down toward the center, seventy men dressed all in black, no falcons to be seen.

“If the king knew of this place, he would surely have the entire Chazzrynn army level Valhirst to the ground, my prince. There is an entire city below here, an immense and deadly maze before us. I had no idea, in truth, I thought you were a bit mad for so furiously believing in this,
White Spider
, propaganda. Now I see.” Ibromm kept his broadsword at the ready, staying close to the heir prince as they hunted into caverns under Valhirst in the dark.