Her curved elven longblade and shortblade out in a flash, the elf dashed across the bridge, toward the stone deck that jutted from the side of its fifth of eleven floors. Shinayne was hurrying away, leading them to where she wanted them to go. Around the corner, she paused, peering to her rear, watching as they came up the stairs of the cathedral and stopped at the bridge. Five now there were, all dressed the same, all looking for her. The stealthy swordswoman wondered how they were tracking her so easily at night, in the rain, her making not a sound. She waited until they started across the bridge then ran down the spiraling stairs to the city streets from the Library of Fastine. She passed the gargoyle statues that adorned the library, most of them reading books or scrolls in their stone carved eternities. She looked up from Gendry Street, seeing her pursuers at the top, on their way down, cutting her off from Saberrak the gray. She smiled again, and darted into the alley, sprinting for the pier. Hopefully they would follow, hopefully Saberrak was en route and would see her change direction. Hopefully they had some information on who was sending them.
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The docks were quiet, late at night most of the men were busy in hidden gambling houses or deep in the embraces of ill repute, sometimes both. The Bronze Harpy and her crew had left a week ago to head north to the port of Cordella in Caberra, since heading back to Chazzrynn would not fare them much till winter was well past. Shinayne walked, slowly, down the east pier toward the lighthouse. She wanted to see how far these men would follow her, she needed to stall long enough for the soldiers of Kalzarius and her minotaur friend to arrive, if they arrived. The local gangs in Harlaheim would be right on her, knowing their city well, as would any drunks or fameseekers. The White Spider would be cautious, as would any other agent of the government or churches. The elven swordswoman stopped and turned quickly, swords out still, letting her black cloak fall from her golden curls and pointed ears. Talking, discussing, six now in their group, and they waited. And she waited. Long minutes, more perhaps passed, and she hoped they could see her smile and stare from the five hundred feet between them. “That’s it boys, keep talking. I have all night, and have gone a month without rest before, doubtful you will last that long.” Shinayne T’Sarrin twirled her blades, slowly, patiently awaiting her pursuers alone on the docks at night.
She paced her steps, thirty steps to the lighthouse doors, eight steps across the width of the pier, and her eyes noted the support beams jutting out of the cold waters. She stood between two of them, and watched as the men came down the stretch of old sodded wooden planks to greet her. Three across, then two, and one walked five paces behind the rest, all with rapiers out yet cloaked ever so slightly, save the man in the rear. She watched their movements, her keen elven senses picking up all the small details. The two men in the middle had their hands on daggers behind their cloaks. Two of the three in front were young and inexperienced, their grip on the flashing blades was tight, their hands white with too much nervous pressure. The man in the rear was anxious, yet restrained himself, meaning he had orders he had to follow. She picked her targets, went over her steps and distancing, and never blinked nor moved as she surveyed them all.
“You there, elf woman, you are coming with us.” the dark haired young swordsman in the front spoke up from behind his hooded cloak. His rapier was out and low, twenty paces or less away.
The highborne elf looked at the edge, seeing three or four nicks in it that had been mostly sharpened and polished out. “I am not the one you want to begin your career practicing on, human.” she could tell he was green, young, and hesitant. Her blades stayed low as well from this distance, staring at the man in the back. Her only concern was him, his arms resting across his chest and staring back at her. The elf could sense no fear from him, the only one who seemed confidant and was not readying a sword.
“You are alone girl, far from the safety of the tower you hide in. Don’t make me take you the hard way. I assure you it will be a regret you may never live down.” his Harlian accent, heavy on the vowels and slower speech, came through as he tried to intimidate her. The three men walked closer, blades tipped at waist level now, and the two from behind them followed.
“Let us see about that then.” Shinayne stepped forward, swords twirling and up to a crisp on guard. Her vision caught their breath, the off hand daggers from the two in the middle, and the stone stillness of the man in the rear. She bowed slightly, playfully, opening her stance and arms just enough to taunt.
Three heavy rapiers, pointed straight blades with curved and weaved steel hilts of black, lunged in unison at the elven woman, and all three fell short as she backed up one step. Again, they redoubled their steps, lunging once more, attempting to plunge the tips of their swords into the quick stepping elf. She backed up another step, then lunged forward herself, cutting across all three blades with a cut from her curved longblade, and following with a rapid stab of the point of the shortblade. The killer on the left dropped to the pier holding his chest, trying to conceal a moan of agony and the pain of a surprise cut from nowhere in the night. She spun full circle, parrying the incoming cuts and ripostes from her two enemies. She ducked and rolled backwards, under flashes of steel, and turned halfway on her heel, slashing out as she moved. The two men dropped, their thighs split to the bone. Shinayne was facing the two men in the middle, staring and smiling, then plunged her elven swords into the chests of her fallen foes. The elven swordswoman stood up, just in time to bring her blades in front of her face in a cross guard. A dagger flew end over end, deflecting off her weapons. A second projectile spun toward her chest, and she turned sideways, hearing it land in the dark waters of the bay.
“Bad manners gentlemen, throwing knives at a lady.” she did not wait to see if they had another dagger somewhere, stepping quickly to the two men that had thrown the knives so cowardly. Her focus was still on the stoic human man in the rear, who had not moved a muscle.
Whipping rapiers screamed steel through the rain, unable to strike the deft elven woman as she parried and dodged their every trained attack. Her curved blade teased a lunge, which they attempted to stop with a chop and a flick of their wrists to disarm her, then she turned right. As they followed through, chasing with their swords, Shinayne turned back left, arriving inbetween them. Two quick parries from her blades, the black clad assassins thrust their rapiers at her midsection. She caught the blades with her crossguards, twirled over once, then struck down and up in one rapid motion. As their rapiers hit the wooden planks, her curved swords punctured their ribs deep, simultaneously on each side of her. Shock and pain swept over their pale countenances and dark eyes as they fell limp onto their knees, then to their faces, dead. She removed her weapons from the insides of the men, never leaving eye contact with the hooded man.
“Impressive, for a woman. I traced your every step, your every move. I just studied your form, elf, and I have seen every weakness.” the man stared, his blue eyes and paler complexion revealed as he withdrew his hood from his cloak. He touched the pommels of his rapier and a shortsword on his right side as well. Form fitting leather armor and gauntlets, young and clean shaven, his brown hair short and wavy. He smiled and stared at the elf.
“That was practice, boy, nothing more.” Shinayne moved closer, slowly, as she felt no need to hurry at this point. The man, for a human, was gorgeous. His eyes, his smile, perfectly smooth and trim face, all seemed alluring and deadly at the same time. It would be a shame to kill this one. Shinayne looked for Saberrak but saw nothing in the constant darkness nor heard anything but waves rolling into wood.
His rapier and shortsword out in a flash, his steps perfectly circling, mimicking her motions. “I have trained since I was seven years old, elf, and never lost a duel. How would you like to be buried?” he laughed a slightly overconfident chuckle, his white teeth glimmering in the showering shadows of night.
“And your name, assassin?” her sarcasm dripped with a smile to match his own. Shinayne figured him in his earl
y twenties. Maybe fifteen years of practice she thought, which was impressive for a human. Her steps circled back, swords rising to on guard, her curved longblade forward and shortblade back to her left side.
“Alec Silverblade, at your service and demise, Shinayne T’Sarrin of Kilikala. Ready?” his intimidations were well trained, his eye contact, his words, even his movements showed perfection and confidence.
“That is Lady Shinayne to you, young one. And I have been practicing over a century, but I am sure you already knew that. What else, pratell, does the White Spider inform you of?” the elf stopped, waiting for his first move, turning her heels on the wet pier, knowing exactly where she was and how many steps she had in any direction.
“No, you were Lady Shinayne, and I am afraid I can tell you no more. I don’t know of any, White Spider did you say?” Alec’s rapier dove ahead, then back as she parried, his body turning and crouching low. The shortsword and rapier cut across low to the pier, the elf jumping over them, and backing up.
Shinayne cut across at the assassins face, and he ducked back. Her subsequent lunge with the shortblade was parried with both his swords and pushed to the ground. She countered with another arcing slice from the longblade. Alec spun left, avoiding the cut, and began a flurry of short and fast cuts toward the elf. Her parries were matching every attack, stopping them edge to edge, the steel ringing across the harbor. She let him back her up near the lighthouse, countering with fast attacks of her own, keeping them low and short, drawing him in. She maneuvered to the right, close to the wooden support pole, and then past it, smiling. The young swordsman stopped, sensing she wanted him closer, his attacks went longer, lunging from a few paces further back. She knew he was hesitant now, just what she had hoped for.
Shinayne sprung forward, lunging with point cuts and arcing long swings, driving Alec back. His parries were quick, faster than any human she had seen. She cut closer now, side to side, trying to throw his guard off. The elven swordswoman then backed up a step, and put her heel on the wooden pillar, and pushed off hard. Her wet boots met the slick wood of the rainy pier, and she ducked low as she slid across, under his weapons. Alec Silverblade spun as the elf went past him, and put his guard low. Shinayne cut down with her curved shortblade, purposefully into the crossed weapons of her enemy. Her right hand slashed up across the assassin’s chest from waist to shoulder, even cut across his nose and cheek. The cut was deep and surprising to the stunned swordsman, as he felt cold metal sever flesh. The boot to his abdomen sent him backwards off the pier and quickly into the cold waters of the bay.
“Now you have lost a duel, Alec Silverblade, and the scar to show for it.” Shinayne sheathed her swords. The swordsman did not reappear as she had expected, minutes passed, yet nothing surfaced. She looked around, waiting for the humiliated young Harlian man to appear somewhere and run off. Nothing.
The elven noble tore the armor off of one of the men she had dispatched, then the black tunic moist with rain and blood. She looked at the shoulder and saw the brand of the white spider in his dead flesh. The elf had fought nearly thirty men, only killing a few, and always outnumbered the last three weeks in Harlaheim. She and Saberrak had foiled many traps and midnight hunts of those seeking their friends for the Scroll of Annar, yet this time she did it alone. Finally, she confirmed that the White Spider was here as well, and hopefully they got the message that the other stalkers had gotten. She and Saberrak had been hunting the night, protecting the tower from its enemies that had been getting closer every week. Shinayne hoped that the minotaur had as much luck as herself this rainy evening, and went to meet her horned friend and the rest of the soldiers of Kalzarius in the deep of the dark city.
Exodus II:I
City of Harlaheim
Her dark cloaked shadow moved with her through the early morning streets. Sunlight began to trickle through the high rising buildings, still glistening from the rains. Carice and Gimmor waned, vanishing into the north and east as clouds of purple drifted across their moonlight. Shinayne saw the trail of her breath, only faint as the cold here was not like that of the kingdom of Chazzrynn to the south. Her hands rested at her side, feeling safe as she saw the gray cloaked guards of Kalzarius ahead on Nen Fleur Street. The elven noble lowered her hood from her long thin ears and stepped from the shadows to reveal her presence.
“Lady T’Sarrin, we have been worried all night about you.” the capitan spoke as he gave a slight bow, realizing the elf was not stopping to converse.
“You should be more worried about those that I find, Capitan. Did Saberrak catch anyone in his routes?” Shinayne took a turn around every twenty steps or so, watching her trail and the rooftops.
“No, m’Lady, we saw nothing this night, and Saberrak the gray returned to the tower to rest some time ago. We did not see you at rendezvous. Did you see any-“
“Yes, six men. One may have survived, and they were all White Spider for certain. I took them at the docks, doubtful there were any witnesses.” she kept moving, still a mile from the grand glowing tower of the ancient wizard. More and more guards fell in step behind her, leaving their various vantage points throughout the city.
A look of surprise crossed the capitan’s face. “The docks? That is far out of the areas we discussed. You took on six agents of the White Spider alone, m’Lady? How did you manage that?”
“Easily and quickly.” Shinayne smiled, seeing the humbling look of shock on the grown Harlian man’s face. “Elven nobles train in the art of the sword and Simnorri styles for two decades, good capitan, I just trained for a few more.”
“What is Simnorri, Lady T’Sarrin, if you do not mind my asking?” he smiled, impressed with the confidence the elven woman possessed. He had seen the prowress of both she and the minotaur, putting proof to the growing legends that spread of late.
“It is the style of attuning oneself with two weapons, one longer and one shorter. My people are gifted with such matching blades, passed down to every royal generation, and taught to use them as our ancestors did in the ancient city of Viala Simnorr. That forest citadel was lost many, many centuries ago, but the practice and tradition lives on among the nobility of the elves.” like she had taught it herself, Shinayne recited the brief history to the capitan without a thought.
“Could you teach it to someone, perhaps, who is not an elf?” a glimmer of interest and envy flashed across the capitan’s eyes.
“If you have twenty years to spare, most certainly capitan. I will have to change your religious beliefs, and trim your ears as well, if that is all right with you. What do you know of Siril?” she laughed, breaking her serious demeanor at the thought of training a human in such a spiritual and time consuming art, let alone mentioning the God of the elves to a Harlian man.
“The rapier is fine m’lady.” he nodded and chuckled.
Over two hundred feet of white marble blended with gray stretched out before her and cascaded into the morning light. Guards opened the gates as the sun rose fully behind them, light that dimmed the magical illuminations of the grand structure. Eleven men behind her in step, the elven swordswoman entered the well guarded Tower of Kalzarius and went to wake her friends. First, she thought, I must rest and meditate. Three days and nights with no sleep had left her spirit a bit cold and in need of centering. Her thoughts drifted quickly to Lavress Tilaniun and where he might be at this very moment, hoping to feel him in her dreams. She wondered about Bedesh, and what they had left in the wake of their escape from Chazzrynn. She would not mention anything to Saberrak in regard to him abandoning again in the night, she knew it was the scroll of Annar that called him. She had seen it and felt it lately, his desire to not be far from it growing stronger.
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Gwenneth Lazlette watched intently as her old teacher reached the bottom of the scroll, its length rolled out across the massive mahogany table. Kalzarius and she had been up all night, finishing the final incantations that were hidden in the ancient writings of the histo
ry contained within. It had taken over a week for them to translate it with the help of a scribe from the Library Fastine, and another week to get past the enchantments that had hidden a secret set of mystical chants that held great power of unveiling yet another set of histories in ancient Altestani dialect. Now, the young prodigy and the elderly master had retraced their steps, ensuring that all they had deciphered was correct.
The old wizard looked up from under his white hair and stroked his long gray beard. ”I believe, my child, that should do it. An amazing find there is no doubt, and it is no wonder it is so sought after. This scroll could break the very foundations that the entire worship in Altestan is founded upon, even many religions long lost here on Agara. It cannot stay here, however. I would like to test the magicks that are so intricately woven through the centuries of history.” His white robes with black arcane markings flowed behind him as he paced around the table.
“Is that safe? Not that I am worried, anxious really. What do you think it will invoke?” Gwenne looked over her notes, feeling that the energy latent inside the scroll would summon forth something, she could tell by the symbols of the arcane blended with the old magick Carician dialect. Her green eyes were tired and burning from weeks of reading, and her black hair was pulled back over her fair complexion after she had grown weary of dodging candles.
Kalzarius walked toward the window of the nineteenth floor and gazed at the morning sun rising in the west over the bay. “It is a holy incantation, certainly not of infernal design, in fact it is quite the opposite. Since this is truly written by Annar, son of Megos, brother to Alden the Lord of Heaven, than we have much to ask of your minotaur friend that found it.”
“He knows little, just an uneducated beast more than anything. Do we really have-“
“Yes. I insist, and Bishop Javiel should be here as well. Sir James and Azenairk said his confidence was genuine and that he would keep these matters quiet until they were safe to speak of. Gwenne, we are beyond the mere arcane here, this is a powerful matter of religious, historical, and holy importance. I dare not go further with the incantations. They glow a strong blue already since we read them, I do not wish to be ill prepared or on the wrong side of the church with this.” Kalzarius was stern, staring at the slightest variation in the blue mist of light that shone above certain letters and symbols on the strange parchment.
The Exodus Sagas: Book II - Of Dragons And Crowns Page 3