The Exodus Sagas: Book III - Of Ghosts And Mountains (70 page)

Good, and mind your way around the priest. He watches me, his kind do not like my sort of power, so we keep this to ourselves…

Gwenne nodded again.

Angeline III:IV

Road to Gillian, Southern Shanador

The oranges and apples from the peasant farmers were delicious, yet Angeline felt selfish for eating them alone. Harvest was coming, the people they passed in the rural areas had been out in their fields every morning they traveled. Annar did not eat, he did not sleep, and he rarely talked. His dark, short, curls of hair and beard were neatly groomed and needed no attention, they seemed always perfect. He seemed effortlessly clean and fit with his massive muscular physique. He wore peasant garments, sandals, and nothing more. No weapons, no armor, not even a walking stick.

For days and nights they had walked, passing beautiful Marille, the ruined Saint Erinsburg, malicious Devonmir, and now they were days into Shanador. He told her to head west, then northwest, then north, he knew where he was going. He just could not go alone, or so she thought. Angeline Berren, now Angeline of Charity, a Knight of the Soujan, one of fifteen, walked alongside the hulking man, the God, perhaps once a God, with many questions.

“Where is it we are heading, Annar?”

“Hyrastrian.”

“I have never heard of that, is it a city?”

“No.”

His eyes had that blue glimmer to them, a light from within, yet he walked with his eyes to the ground and never stopped, even in conversation.

“What is it then?”

“A holy place, lost and forgotten I would imagine.”

“To whom is it dedicated, to you?”

“No, to my brother, to all of us actually, but to Alden.”

“There are temples to Alden everywhere, especially in Shanador, I could take you to one.”

“No, those are made by men. They hold no significance to me.”

“And this one, this Hyrastrian, is significant?”

“Yes.”

Angeline was polite, this was the son of Seirena, an immortal, yet his answers were nothing short of direct, short, and frustrating. She remained calm and at peace.

“How so, great Annar?”

“It is where my brother landed, where he fell from the sky, cast out by our grandfather. It is where I stood over him, protected him from our wicked brothers and sisters and the demons of the eight hells. It is where they tore his wings from him, took me in chains far away, and where man found him.” Annar looked to Angeline with seriousness in his eyes. “The temple of Genesis, I believe is what your people call it.”

“There are passages and prayers to such effect, titles of holy texts, but everyone knows the place is but part of the story, not real. I thought there were seven hells?” Angeline had been raised, force fed really, Aldane rhetoric as a child in Kivanis.

“There are eight, I assure you. Tartralam is at the far end of Mictalan, the abyssal purgatory of the dead that do not find their way. Then Nirakas, Mount Adiyu, Lake Usheole, Abbitos, Khupashe, Jahanin, and lastly Infiernum. Eight. My brothers rule them, so I know.”

“Then if hell, or hells, are real, what of heaven?” Angeline felt sad, though she knew not why.

“Six now, there were seven once. Oasiun, Elsiun, Paradine, the sunlit City of Teotopa, Mount Maonell, and the Gardens of Fanrabon.”

“Was the seventh yours, Annar?”

“No, the sixth was mine. Castle Gihrasa, the castle that guarded the Gardens of Alden. My grandfather had my brothers burn mine to ashes, but I have yet to see it. I doubt they did.” His voice was grave.

“I am sorry. So who protects your brother then?”

“Haddius is missing from Oasiun, my sister is seldom concerned with anything outside of Paradine, Teotopa is dark with Solumet and the second sun gone, so only my two brothers, Vundren and Siril protect Alden and the heavens.”

“What of the white moon, Carice, is not your brother there?” Angeline was perplexed, she had thought the Caricians all dwelled on the moon.

“My brother? He is not my brother. No, Megos is imprisoned there, like my mother Seirena is imprisoned to the earth. Banished really, they still hold power, but it is in hiding, exile, for what they did.” Annar smiled, the first one since he had been freed by the minotaur.

“What they did?”

“Megos is my father, Angeline.”

“But Seirena was created by Yjaros, just like Megos, they are brother and…
oh
.” Angeline gulped, knowing that brothers and sisters having relations was forbidden in most any culture, any religion, and she was mildly shocked.

“Do not feel that way, it is different for us. Those twisted children and strict laws came from Yjaros, from his judgement of my parents, and into your world. There is nothing wrong with loving your sister or brother in such a way, but Yjaros, thousands of years ago, made it so. He despised it. He is God, then he has his three children, the Primali, then the throne angels are descended from those unions.”

“Throne angels? You are not
Gods
?”

“No, there is only one God, but his children together are just as powerful as he is, that is why he banished them so.”

“So Yjaros
, is God
, your grandfather. Megos and Seirena are your parents, and how many siblings are there?”

“Forty four counting me. But most are from Yjaros and Seirena, we Caricians are from Seirena and Megos born of the earth and moon, Nochtilians and some Gimmorians are from Yjaros and his other daughter.”

“Other daughter?” Angeline thought hard, taking it all in, a father breeding immortals through his daughters, brothers with sisters, it seemed so strange.

“She that can not be mentioned, her name is the bearer of curses, no one can speak of her, ever. No mortal would know of her, and we that do will never say. She is death, the dark, and wicked beyond even immortal grasp. And she was banished out of the world by Yjaros, forever.”

“Like you.”

“No, far worse. She was the one that cursed us, forced by her father.”

“Why does he not kill his enemies? No offense, but all the cursing and banishing---“

“It is forbidden, our blood is his blood, one way or the other. He forbids us to kill one another, mate or love mortals, it is written on the green moon. Only She and He can break the words for her curses, and her words are powerful and real. As long as she lives somewhere, those words of binding hold true. Yet, there is always a way out. My aunt was very deceptive indeed. Yjaros gave all three of them much power, but then took and banished them apart from one another when they used it for themselves, their worshippers, or against him.”

“So your mother is in the earth, your father is upon the white moon, so your aunt, whoever she is, is on the green moon then, Gimmor?”

“No, there sit our thrones and in them the council of the Gimmorians and Nochtilians, my brothers and sisters. The Carician thrones sit empty, since the war and the splitting of our parents.”

“So where is she then?”

“No one knows. Not even God anymore. I was already imprisoned, but I woke up somewhere around a few thousand years ago, and her name was gone from my mind and memory. She fell in love with a mortal, forbidden in the highest degree, and that Yjaros cursed her was all that remained, no matter how hard I thought. He stripped our memory, all of us, and the mortal world too. So, I do not know her name, or where she is. No one does.”

“So you then, you were freed from your curse. Surely she could be found and freed from hers.”

“Yes,
a slave to free a slave
, it took forever it seems. But her, no, what I do recall, pieces of emotion only, but they tell me that none of us would ever want her free, it would mean the end.”

“End of what?”

“Everything. Your world, the heavens, hells, existence as we know it.”

“Now, not to object to your immortal wisdom, but…”

“Go on, I have not talked this much in many millennia.” Annar smiled.

“Are those feelings facts? Or are they placed there by Yjaros to ensure his curses and to make certain none of you would ever have the desire to find her and free her, ever? To have that false fear? Just a thought.” Angeline smiled back.

“Quite wise. I will have to ponder this deeply when I speak to my brothers.”

“Is that what is really in Hyrastrian? Your way home?”

“Beyond wise indeed. You humans have improved while I was away, you are more discerning and inquisitive. It balances the bloodshed and corruption you have spread with your steel, almost.”

“And who worshipped you in your day then, larger, stronger men who fought beasts with bare hands?” Angeline chuckled.

“No. Giants, men of earth and sky, minotaurs, and tribes of honor and strength from many civilizations. Then when I was taken, it was corrupted.”

“How?”

“My races split, temples destroyed, and my worship went awry without me able to hear it or answer. The ogre were born bestial, the trolls became diseased, and no one led my people as they suffered and became degraded killers. Now, I see reflections upon the earth of those that once, long ago, looked to me for guidance and strength.”

“What will happen, now that you are free?”

“I am sure when word reaches my siblings, it will not be good. We are here.”

“Where?” Angeline looked ahead, she saw a small cliff rising out of a rocky ridge, surrounded by swamp and marsh. There was no road beneath her feet, it was midday. She did not know where she was or how much time had passed. She saw a pillar, several more broken ones, and steps in the stone ridge, all covered with moss and vine of green.

“Hyrastrian. The temple of Genesis that you say was but a story, we are here.” Annar had tears running down his cheeks into his beard. His mind went to his little brother, Alden, the tearing of his wings, the blood, him holding him tight as Shukuru and Cancuru took him away in chains, thousands upon thousands of years past. He looked at the feather in his hand, his brothers’, he had held it there since that day, all of his imprisonment.

“How long was it, where are we?”

“We have been talking for two days, Angeline. We are northeast of a city I believe they call, Gillian.”

“May I enter with you, to see you home then?” Angeline was out of sorts, she remembered the sun rising and falling, day to night and back again, but it seemed surreal. Her mind was trying to grasp how time moved while they had talked.

“No, I am sorry. You must travel west, to the daughter of Lazlette now, as my mother wished. Good bye, Angeline. And good bye, Charity. It has been a good talk.” Annar walked toward the old ruins, up the steps, and past the pillars. Then he was gone.

Angeline stood and watched. Finally, she looked west. She felt something in her hand, she looked. It was a feather, white, perfect, soft. She smiled and started her long walk, not feeling the slightest bit alone.

Exodus III:XIV

Evermont, Shanador

Gwenneth had not felt this relaxed in years. The bath was warm, the soaps and lotions were divine in feeling and scent, and the quiet peace and rest was beyond pleasure. She stepped out onto soft furs, accepting the towels of fine cloth for her black hair and smooth body from the servant women. The guest quarters of the Low King were unused as he and many of his were away, and the knights of Evermont graciously gave the bold and brave travelers each their own room. It was lavish, all dark wood and dark stone, but with giant unpaned windows allowing light and a view from ten stories above the trailing end of the Misathi Mountains.

“Vallakazz has nothing that would compare, nothing indeed.” Gwenneth smiled as she meandered to her black and indigo robes of the academy, they were washed and clean, smelling of roses and lavender.

For two days they had rested, eaten, bathed, cleaned, and rested some more. They had been given every courtesy, generously, without even asking. Shinayne had tried to give them platinum coins or jewels, but both Sir Jardayne of Highmont and Sir Codaius of Norninne, known as The Bear of Evermont due to his girth and strength, had refused any offer from the highborne elf. It seemed that the caravan had paid for everything, believing that they would have perished from either the dragon, the Mogi, or the giants had Gwenneth and her friends not stopped them. True or no, they also were reputed the most famous bards of Shanador.

The Shans o’ Little Door
, they were known, and their coin and words of praise held more weight here than any of them could argue. Four gnome men, three twig women, five or six pygmy boys and girls, and even a mated pair of smiling and pointy eared goblins made up the troupe of musicians and singers that wandered Shanador, city to city, playing in every king’s court. Despite being the stunted offspring of humans, dwarves, elves, and little fey, and not one of them over three feet tall, they had a reputation as the finest in the realm. Gwenneth was excited to hear them play tonight, for they had written a song or ballad for Saberrak, called
he faced them alone
.

Knock, knock, knock

Gwenneth waved her hand and the door opened. Her magicks flowed easily now that she was rested and refreshed. She knew it was either a servant or Shinayne.