The Exodus Sagas: Book IV - Of Moons and Myth (46 page)

Jehrale charged in, stopped at the slight motion of a stop cut from Lavress, then chopped down toward the falcata with both his weapons.
He hit twice, thought he saw the blade fall loose, and lunged his kris blade toward the chest of his disarmed foe. Somehow, the falcata spun full vertical circle, a feint of being disarmed, and it rose up perfectly to deflect the deadly lunge. Vermillion impal
ed himself into the sudden punching
kukri dagger of the waiting elf, the curved steel went deep into his chest. He swung on instinct with his shortblade, and that too was parried by the falcata, and then the dagger tore upward to his neck in a vertical line as he fell backwards.

Lavress did not stop with the cut of the dagger, turned his body and arm in a circle, and flung it
underhand
end over end into the back of Oggidan
Chilar. The boy screamed in pain, grabbed the kukri just before he fell over
and would have driven
it deeper. He let it go, squirmed as he bled all over the stone, and began crawling for his shortbla
de in between gasps of anguish and trying to reach his hand to the wound.

Liogan walked past, kicked him square in the jaw, and took his broadsword from the ground.
His bare foot ached, yet he limped to get Oggidan’s blade away.
He thought to finish the boy, but it looked as t
hough he was out from the hard
kick. His honor would not allow him to kill someone helpless, an ogre perhaps, but not a human boy. Liogan glanced over as he heard steel meeting steel again. The young knight of Chazzrynn charged toward the still battling elven hunter and his cloaked foe.

Vermillion felt the kris blade hum and start to scream a terrible song, piercing his own ears and those of his attackers. His chest and neck were pouring blood, his ribs and shoulders as well, and his parries were weakening. Jehrale
stepped back, toward the throneroom
, deflecting everything Lavress was unleashing at him with that forward curved blade. Two blades on one, he knew that he would take this elf easily now, despite his injuries.

Lavress dove ahead, rolled, and came up deep into the guarding stance of his injured foe. His falcata slashed left, the
n
right, low then high, countering both blades with his one. He began feinting with his elbows to give false direction to Vermillion, then spun full circle and chop blocked both the swords
to his right
. Before his opponent recovered his stance, Lavress swung up hard and deep at the elbow of Vermillion’
s right arm
and rolled with the cut to avoid the shortblade. He heard a yell of pain, felt his blade take the arm, and saw the
green kris blade hit the floor still in the severed grip.

The shortblade disarmed the falcata
that parried
, slashed at the elfs’ neck, but Lavress ducked under. His arm gone below the elbow, Jehrale knew he would not live long, but would at least kill this savage first. Vermillion roared and dove at his unarmed foe, off the steps, and led with an airborn blade down toward the chest of Lavress.

Just as Vermillion leapt at him, Lavress picked up the emerald pommeled kris blade. It burned his hand with invisible pain, it shrieked so loud his ears lost
sense, and the green glow was glaring
through the whole chamber. He gritted his teeth and raised his arm straight up. Then all went dark. The green pommel flickered and hummed, almost as
if
a sad ballad were about to begin. The kris blade was all but buried, all the way through Vermillion’s throat, and out the top of his skull.

He shuddered, his reflexes spasming, eyes staring right at Lavress as the blade that held his mother took his life.
The shortblade fell to the stone, then his body, his face first fall smashed into the ground and bounced once as the kris blade throbbed and hummed. Jehrale Valhera, known as Vermillion of the South, bled all over the prison chamber flo
or, and let out one last gurgling
breath as he died.

“Mother…”

The moaning blade grew louder, the shadows seemed to darken, and the blood that was puddling on the stone began to seep back toward the emerald pommel.
Lavress retrieved his weapons, glanced at Liogan and ran for the cells. There were so m
any, yet one they knew for sure
held the h
eir prince of Chazzrynn. The elf
of the Hedim Anah took the keys from the wall and unlocked the lock on the bars. Without words, he quickly enetered and began searching for the key to unlock the manacles that held the barely living Bryant Salganat.

“Who…are you…is it time for me to…hang…now…?”

Liogan Andellis knelt next to his prince, and put a his arm behind him. Just as Lavress got the chains off, he lifted his prince up with all his strength. He tried not to look, but it was not easy. Bryant had a swollen jaw that was crooked, his eyes were swollen shut from beatings, and there was old blood on most every part of him. His ribs shown through the filthy rags, and several of his bones did not look to be where they should. His brown hair was matted with dirt, and his notrils were crusted with dried blood.

“No, my prince. I am Sir Liogan Andellis, Knight of Southwind and of Chazzrynn. My friend Lavress Tilaniun and I are getting you out of here.”

“I know no knight…by that name…is this more…torture?”

“No your highness, your father knighted me in the field, not two weeks past.” Liogan waited un
til Lavress took the other side
as they would both have to help him walk.

“He does… that often…not the first…time…ha…ha…Is the war…over?”
Bryant could not see his rescuers, yet he heard faint sounds of battle and a strange hum and song of a most eerie tone.

“No, your highness, it has just begun.” Lavress walked with Liogan and the prince toward the stairs, hoping there was help on the other side. He motioned to set him down, then snuck up to the door. He listened. Soft steps, several, perhaps ten or more. He shook his head, knowing they could not fight that many with a dying helpless prince to protect.

“I warned…them…all of them and my…father…of Johnas and the …spiders…he has…no one…listened.”
Bryant felt weak, starving, and he wished he could see.

Liogan looked to Lavress upon his return to help the prince up again. He saw the stare and the shake of his head, meaning they could not go out the easy way.

“Your highness, can you hold your breath?” Lavress began walking them toward the outer tunnels
that held the sea serpent, the
way they had entered.

“Perhaps… a bit, it… hurts to… breath. Why?”
His mind was thinking of his lost family, his father fighting his war above, and all that Jehrale Valhera had told him. The sorrow was only contained by his lack of strength
to cry
.

Stepping over the still breathing Oggidan, the very dead Vermillion, Liogan and his elven companion made for the tunnels that led to the docks. Liogan looked down as the hum grew loud from the blade and the last traces of blood soaked into the
emerald
pommel.

“We will need to swim to get you to safety, my prince.” Liogan nodded to Lavress.

“
Leave me, I… am dead… weight to… you. Tell my… father you killed… Jehrale Valhera, tell him… to get me when the battle… is done.”
Bryant whispered as loud as his voice would allow.

“I am afraid I cannot obey that order, your highness. I have orders to infiltrate and rescue you, from the king.” Liogan rounded the watery chasm, looked down to see if his boots had surfaced, then went around, still barefoot.

“Two weeks into knighthood and already disobeying, eh?” Lavress chuckled as they reached the submerged tunnel opening they had come up from.

“It would seem so. Once out, we head south, Lady Aelaine Lazlette should be waiting for us with Captain Shilde. Ready?” Liogan Andellis tightened his straps and buckles as Lavress did the same.

“Ready.” Lavress took a deep breath, heard the doors open far behind them, and jumped in the water.

“By the way, master Lavress, thank you for saving my life again. Your blades were nothing short of amazing.” The young knight nodded with sincerity.

“Time for gratitude and celebration will come when we have your prince safe and away from here. Come, Sir Liogan. It is time to swim
again. Take a deep breath your highness
.” Lavress reached up and took Bryant’s arm, treading water with a brutally beaten noble
lowering
to
his grasp.
He looked up
and saw motion.“
Liogan, now!”

Liogan jumped in
with Bryant Salganat
just as crossbow fire littered the chamber. All three heads dove under the ocean water before the agents of the White Spider could reload and take another shot at them. They looked,
twelve
black masks with wide eyes in disbelief, yet one pointed to the water. No prince, no bo
dies, yet they all saw a trickling stream
of blood that looked rather fresh. They had hit one of them, which one and how badly wounded, none of them knew.

Hidden Sanctuary of the Broken Wing
, City of Harlaheim

The edge of the sabre pushed open another old tattered curtain. For fear of catching the place aflame, Balric D’Vrelle kept his torch back behind him and walked slowly. This room was the same as the others. He stared in disbelief at the swollen bodies rotting and swarming with a weeks worth of flies. Most of them he had known or met, some not, but it mattered little now. This was the underground sanctum of the secret order of the Aldane Church, known as the Broken Wing. Obviously, Harlaheim or t
he White Spider had found it .

The swordsman spy passed by the corpses, perhaps fifty throughout the hidden fortress of unknown tunnels, and covered his mouth and nose with his forearm. He turned to the right, to where he had hoped to find the Lord Bishop Trebaine, instead he saw men hanging from the support beams. Balri
c turned away as he saw Trebaine, leader
of the secret order
who was his superior, dangling motionless in the dark. His tongue was gray as stone and
a letter was held by a dagger wedged in
to
his chest. Summoning his strength and resolve, he walked up
and took the letter. T
r
embling with anger and hopelessne
ss
, he reached up
and closed the eyes on
the rancid body.

Balric looked down at the letter, it had the royal seal of the Aldane upon it, the seal of the Cardinal as well. Even before he opened it, he knew Johnas Valhera was behind it. The parchment smelled of perfume, the writing was exquisite, and the blood was dark and soaked in the envelope.
He thought of his two cousins in the other room, his uncle, and his young nephew Aidrin D’vrelle. All dead, hung or beheaded, and no one on the surface would ever know of it.
They were not members of the church, but Balric recalled the promise of Johnas Valhera. The promise was to find his family in Harlaheim, if ever he escaped.
And so he had.

Lord Rodreigo was taking bodies down and laying them in alcoves as Balric had searched ahead. Sir Sebastian had died, leaving a devastated Richmond the Second incapable of anything more than whimpers
in the dark
.

Balric
read the letter, trying to keep his composure as the sights and smells washed away any hope of help from his order or the church.
He had trained with these men, many years ago, after his years with ths Crossguard Legion of Alden.
The Cardinal was dead, recently to the populace, but Balric knew that Johnas had replaced him with a doppelganger well before his supposed passing. Fear gripped his chest as he now felt more alone than ever before.

By order of Cardinal Desmonde of the Aldane Church

Acelinne, Shanador

13, Cavikkan
,
345 A.D.

Let it be known that the Crossguard Legion has within its unwanted numbers, a secret group of assassins known as the Broken Wing. These
discharged
vigilantes have no affiliation with the Aldane, the Church hierarchy, and are considered dangerous men capable of
murder in any fashion.
Anyone belonging to this unofficial and clandest
ine operation is summoned to
Acelinne, to confess, be forgiven, and disband.

Should this order continue to operate in any regard, they are subject to the laws of whichever kingdom they may be found residing within. The Church does not hold any ransom nor offer for said agents, and will not trade coin nor word for their welfare.
They are in grave action against the Church and its beliefs, and w
ill receive no merciful judgeme
nt should they be found still in operation.

From the time of this letter, anyone belonging to this supposed Broken Wing may reach Acelinne and confess. Such an action will bring forgiveness, and immunity to any punishment---