“Savanno Lisario and company, you are under arrest by order of King Richmond the Second and the church of Alden! You have been charged with treason, adultery, heresy, and conspiracy to the throne! Lay down your arms, for we will bring you in alive or dead at your choosing!” Sir Bernardus yelled from the safety of his cavalry and soldiers. His rapier was drawn and signaling the charge while he spoke, his smile from under his red beard and fat face was plain to those that were looking; for he meant not to take anyone peacefully.
“It seems you would prefer to bring us in dead by the looks of your arrows, Bernardus! Bring your blade to meet mine, and we shall see what God chooses!” Savanno drew his heavy steel rapier and readied himself for the coming soldiers and horsemen.
Zen began running up the hill around the flank of the archers, shield raised and crouching low. “Gwenneth!” he pointed up to the archers on the right near him, then to her, and then to the left side of the opposing hill from where more feathered projectiles were originating. The dwarven priest hustled in his heavy plate armor after seeing her nod of affirmation that she would take care of her half of the soldiers with bows.
Saberrak drew his greataxe off of his back with his right hand, and pulled the curved shamshir blade in his left. Lowering his horns, his gaze with his dark eyes and tattoos of his horns underneath slowed the charge of several men. Shinayne stepped out with Savanno Lisario on either side of Saberrak, the three of them marching in time directly into the wave of fifteen men rushing across the muddy road intent on their demise. The first four soldiers passed through the glowing wall of arcane defense, and dove point first, to the three warriors standing to meet them. The reach of the greataxe easily cleaved into the side of one man, his screams and bone crunched fall was muffled in comparison to the soldier who lost his swordarm at the shoulder from the heavy slash of the minotaur’s curved shamshir at the same moment.
Savanno stepped back one foot and lunged low, falling short intentionally as his opponent swung at his head with the rapier. The lord parried, then cut across the man’s chest, subsequently kicking him in the stomach and sending him to the mud. Another high slashing cut was ducked by the Harlian lord, missing his shaved head by inches; he followed with a slash to the soldier’s thigh, then across the left flank, and finished him with a thrust through the chest.
Three men rushed the elven swordswoman as she stood motionless, blades lowered. She turned sideways avoiding two of the rapier points, and ducked the cut meant for her neck. Her elven blades twirled round once, then arced out at the swords of the outside opponents. Cutting their forearms deep and following with two quick stabs into the thighs of the middle soldier, Shinayne positioned herself closer. As he dropped to the wet dirt road, the two that were now flanking her attempted to lunge again with weakened grips from injury. Shinayne spun, blades at chest level, and flicked her wrists up upon impact. Disarming both the men, and continuing her turn, she lacerated them both across the upper thighs. Seeing more men and a soldier on horse aimed for her, the elven woman backpedaled, leaving her three opponents moaning in the mud from severe swordcuts and bleeding, incapable of further threat.
Gwenneth Lazlette pointed her black and gold inscribed wand of glass at the archers she could see on the hills and in the trees, though few in the clouded dark of evening. Suddenly light shone all through the hillsides, bright as the day in yellow and gold tones. She looked, seeing over a dozen archers now, all under a sun that was not shining from the sky. The wizard saw Azenairk, beams of golden illumination swirling from his free hand that clutched his Hammerpiece holy symbol of the dwarven God, Vundren. The lights gave away all the archers, even blinding those close to the dwarven priest as he marched further uphill to face them. “Hislliam fress delthium!” no light emitted from her focused wand, yet the multitude of flares and flames lit the hillside as the bows held by the soldiers ignited. Gwenne smiled, seeing the ranged enemies drop the flames that were once their weapons, and reach for their swords in disbelief. “Jasrede invulisam!” she pointed both staff and wand at the soldiers now traversing the forested slope, sending a wave of purple light spinning toward them. It crashed into the ground with intense force, knocking at least ten of them to the ground, the rest stared. The hum and dazzling swirling lights that remained had them entranced, wanting to touch the magic, yet too busy watching the display of color to do so. Gwenneth moved closer, concentrating on the inviting energies that had their enemies on the hillside enthralled and stunned at the same time.
The long horns of the minotaur pierced through the chainmail of the soldier he had charged. The screaming soldier was flung to the left into one of his own men with a quick and brutal whip of Saberrak’s neck. His eyes felt the tingle and misty blue haze covering his vision despite his efforts to stop it. A horseman charged in, lance lowered at the gray gladiator as a look of confusion crossed his face toward the blue glow from the minotaur’s eyes. Saberrak cleaved the lance with the curved sword then followed with a downward chop of the greataxe into the cavalryman’s chest, sending him off the back of his horse and into death. Shaking his head to clear the blue haze, the horned warrior strode into the morass of men still daring to charge him.
The rapier of Savanno dug deep into the side of the mounted soldier to his left, then parried the cut from high with his blade and returned a killing blow deeper than the first. He rolled to the right through mud and wet grass as another horseman drove a lance at his chest. Gaining his footing, the Lord Knight Errant met another soldier on foot and parried his attack with his steel edge. Two quick ripostes later, the warrior of Sir Bernardus fell clasping a pair of holes in his shoulder. Savanno turned in time to see the charging horseman aim low with his lance again on the return, missing the deft veteran knight as he sidestepped.
The two rapiers cut quickly against the dual matched elven blades of Shinayne, neither man able to get an attack through her inhumanly fast defenses. They cut across at her neck and face, tried to pierce her in the torso, and even attempted to disarm her. She would have none of it, matching each slash with a perfect parry, and each cut with a simple step to the side, then driving both her longblade and matching shortblade deep into the chests of the men in front of her. She had hoped to simply injure them, but their intensity warranted a quick kill. She could tell when an opponent was not going to give up. Shinayne T’Sarrin rushed across the battlefield, coming up behind one of the horseman. As he turned to begin yet another charge, his lance was cut twice to a short stick with but a handle. The elf went to disarm his rapier that he was about to draw, then he was gone. Yanked from his saddle by Saberrak the gray and thrown into another horseman who toppled horse and all into another footman.
Flashes of white heat scorched through the night sky from Gwenneth, driving the young archers with no bows off into the forest to the west toward Harlaheim. Zen had knocked the life or wind out of five of the brave young men as he reached the summit of the small hillock; the soldiers fleeing his warhammer as much as the wizards’ spells. Savanno reached his rapier up to Sir Bernardus, pointing at his slightly plump stomach. Another sword, that of the elf was tickling his side with the point. Yet a third lay across his chest, the curved shamshir of Saberrak. Three swords across him from different angles as he sat on his horse, rapier in hand yet knowing he was a dead man should he try to attack or run. His remaining men scattered or bleeding in the mud, he was surrounded. Bernardus watched as the dwarven priest and the wizard of Lazlette approached, smiling to each other. There was no issue of retreat given, yet several of his men headed westward down the dark valley toward the city, and Bernardus could not fault them. The Knight of Harlaheim had been beaten, and knew that Madame Florin was right when she had told him not to underestimate these fugitives from the south. He was undone, surrounded, and defeated; he lowered his rapier and waited.
“Do you yield, Sir Bernardus of Harlaheim?”
“This changes nothing Savanno. You are a wanted man, by the church, the king, and the knights you once led
. You fled with these fugitives with a holy relic, and denied the word of your king. Your actions have spoken for you, against you.” he sheathed his rapier, one hand in the air, hearing his men scramble away here and there. Sir Bernardus dismounted slowly, three blades kept trained on him, and now the wizard and the armored priest surrounded him as well.
“I say we kill him right here, one less enemy.” Saberrak snorted with his axe now tapping the knight’s shoulder as well. His hot breath was venting down on the back of Bernardus’ head, the blue glow in his eyes was gone.
“Bernardus, you know me, you have for decades. We have fought in many battles side by side, and here you accuse me. Here, this night, you try and kill me. This is not the oath we took at the Mission of Saint Tarumin, nor the vows of knighthood we swore to each other several kings past.” Savanno was choking up, the words were forced out; he had never thought he would be on the receiving end of justice in the kingdom he had served so diligently.
“We cannot just kill him, but we cannot have him following us either. Tie him up?” Shinayne looked to the reins on his horse, then to a tree, keeping her longblade near his chest.
“Your oath to the Order of Saint Tarumin and the knights thereof was broken when this occurred.” Bernardus drew out from his pouch the white armband with the red feathered cross of Alden sewn into it. “Explain why this was found under the queen’s bed, Savanno.” the knight’s lip was trembling under his red beard, for he had looked up to this man in many ways, until now. “I requested to be the one to bring you in, from the king. Your disgrace has hurt me in ways you cannot imagine.”
The veteran lord looked to his right arm, seeing the armband missing, and lowered his head. His shame was evident, shame not in his love for Rosana, but in disappointing his knights and the order. “It is far more complicated than you-“
“I do not care to hear it! Now draw blades with me, or let me return to face dishonor. I will not lie to you though, I will gather more men and come for you. As will Florin, Sebastian, and others.” Bernardus had let the hate take over, his duty was blind and deaf in the face of a man he thought a once mentor. “You have my word that your nephew, Sir Sulian, will not be involved. Now make your move.” Bernardus placed the armband back in his pouch, and stood back awaiting the former Lord Knight Errant. He had hoped they would let him live, leave, and then he would have Savanno’s title and glory for himself.
Silence. All eyes were once again on Savanno Lisario. Though he just wanted this day to not have had happened at all, he drew his rapier. Hearing the same from his brother knight and charge, he raised his eyes to meet him. “I am sorry, Bernardus, forgive me. The king is wicked and needs to be removed.”
“God will forgive you, these criminals you travel with may trust you, but I have no choice but to kill you old friend. You are an enemy to the crown!” the red headed knight looked around at the others, knowing they may well kill him after anyway. His teacher before him, he could not let this injustice simply pass into the night.
“Regardless, let these people take their leave to their journey. They will not harm you and I require your word that you will not pursue them. They have nothing to do with this Bernardus.”
“All I will vow is this. After I kill you, I will return to gather more men and knights in Harlaheim. That is all the time they will get. I have no control over the will of the bishop, and he wants them dead and wants the scroll. The king supports this Savanno, you know our position. However, I will do my best to not be a part of it. This I swear to you.” Bernardus was shaking, his honor at stake, his old mentor a traitor in front of him, he had never dreamed of being in this situation.
“Shinayne, Zen, Saberrak, Lady Lazlette, go on ahead, let us settle this alone if you will. Please.” Savanno bowed to them, pointing his rapier up the muddy road northeast into the foothills of the Zuran Mountains. He knew that Bernardus was a bit younger, bigger, and stronger; yet he knew that the man was no match for him with a blade, few were in Harlaheim. He needed to defend his honor, and respect the honor of Bernardus by meeting his challenge and beliefs with the blade.
“Very well.” none spoke save the minotaur. He knew they would not approve, knew that their emotions may have other words to say. He spoke for them and turned to leave these men to their honor.
Saberrak and the others walked the road, knowing that not too far ahead should be this man’s cousin and hopefully James Andellis. The sound of ringing steel echoed through the night air from behind them. The light from Gwenne’s staff allowed them to follow the road with little difficulty, as it seemed she was the only one not accustomed to traveling under cover of dusk. None of them spoke, for they all had the same thoughts. Regardless of who would win, nothing would change. They were once again on the run, fleeing from enemies they did not know and searching for safety in places they had never been. The walk, for all four of them, was a slow one that none cared to take quickly. Curiosity, concern, and fear of Savanno losing more than his honor made each step away harder to take.
Kendari II:I
Valhirst, Chazzrynn
“All I know is that they sent Kaya and the minotaur who killed Heathen to Devonmir! Stop, please! I don’t know anything else, I swear! They sent them to head off the ones that have some scroll and are seeking some place far to the north and west. I overheard Prince Johnas and an agent speaking it in a meeting, that’s all!” the young boy, barely in his twenties, felt the blood burn his eyes and drip into his dark hair from the cuts on his abdomen. He had been here for the whole night, locked in some shack in Valhirst with this cursed and marked elven demon.
“Keep it to a whisper please.” the Nadderi cautioned. “Then why were you following me, if all you know is of the orders given to someone else, Peidri of Valhirst, agent of the White Spider?” Kendari twisted his enchanted longsword that was emitting waves of rippling clear heat, Shiver.
The boy screamed as the gloved hand of his captor covered his mouth. His wide eyes kept staring into the branded black swirls and menacing emerald eyes that decorated Kendari’s pale face. His pointed ears and tied back black hair only added to the shadowy presence of hopelessness as he tortured the boy that hung from his ankles upside down. The hand removed.
“They only wanted me to report where you were going, nothing more!” more blood ran down his chest, sizzling flesh and small cuts he assumed now covered his stomach. He would not cry, tried not to cry out for help, knowing that this infamous killer would end him here if he did. Yet the pain was unbearable.
“SSShhh…Peidri, my friend, you must remain quiet, remember? I do not want to have to cut off yet another finger, but if you insist on not whispering, well…” The elf bearing the Nadderi curse smiled, looking at the mutilated left hand that only held a thumb and an index finger. Had they boy been quiet, told the truth, and not been a member of the White Spider, he may have been more merciful. But since he had an underworld price of ten thousand in gold coin on his head from this organization of assassins and criminals, Kendari felt quite justified in making an example and getting some much needed information in the process.
“No, no more fingers please. I need them, please don’t.” the young man whimpered softly, not wanting to die here. He had joined the White Spider from the streets he worked as a petty house thief and fence. He accepted the spider brand, the brotherhood, and the safety of using his talents for someone that needed them and could keep the law off of him. Peidri had no idea that something like this could happen.
“Who else are they looking for? And be quick about it, the night is coming to an end.” the cursed elf cut him slowly again across the ribs, slightly, carefully, waiting till the blood ran and nothing more. A little grimace of pain ended the cutting for a moment. The sound and aroma of burning flesh filled the small warehouse office the Nadderi swordsman had led the criminal youth to.
“The captain of the guard, the new one, Balric. He, he, he is missing they say, and took the Prince’s whore and wizard with him. Harlian man, a
nd very quiet that one. We all thought he was a spy from the north. That’s all I know!” he whispered to the black clad killer in the dark, seeing only a faint trail of moonlight trickling in from a separation in the doorjamb.
“And me? Why such a heavy price so suddenly? I killed many of you, yes, a month ago or more. Who set the price, Johnas?” Kendari poked Shiver into the human’s ribs, then again quickly, keeping the bloodflow and attention to his liking. More moans of agony and fear, which in his experiences, always produced the best results.
“No. It was Salah-Cam, your old employer who put up the coin for your head. He met with the Prince and then we were notified. There are many assassins looking for you and that gold, be sure of it.” Peidri squirmed, wriggled, trying to shake loose or fall so that he may have a chance to reach his shortsword and run for it. His broken nose throbbed, the cuts all over him burned, and he wished only to be free from here. He would tell anything to this murderer and never return to Valhirst if it meant living to see another night.
The cursed elf laughed, his fingers tickling the pyramid pommel of his other enchanted longsword as he paced circles around the youth who hung from the rafters. “Well then, there is no issue, heh, heh. Tell your prince that Salah is dead and he can keep the gold for himself. I killed him over a month ago, my friend. That should solve that easily enough, unless he wishes for more of his men to die at the end of my blades.”
“I doubt he will believe me if I told him that, perhaps you should.”
The Exodus Sagas: Book II - Of Dragons And Crowns Page 9