The Exodus Sagas: Book II - Of Dragons And Crowns

by Jason R Jones

  “Why would that be, poor Peidri? I could carve it on your chest, slowly. I am not stupid enough to meet your prince here in his city, so unfortunately, you will have to be the messenger.” Kendari chuckled and thought of how pathetic Salah-Cam, his old wretched wizard employer, must have been to pay others to do his dirty work. What a sniveling coward, good riddance. Armless, headless, and still his legend of failure lives on, he thought cheerfully. He eyed the boy, wondering how much room he would need for a message on his flesh.

  “He won’t believe me because Salah-Cam is with him under the city, he arrived three days past.” Peidri closed his eyes, feeling that those words may either throw this elf off track, or end him right now.

  “That is impossible boy.”

  “I swear it, do I look in a position to lie? He is old, thin faced and even sickly looking, almost like he is a walking corpse he’s so old. Some of the men said he had an odor to him, and that his eyes glow a strange shade of black and green. He has strange lacerations on his arms and neck, and some say he does not breathe. The men fear him because he seems as if he should not be alive, yet he is and-“

  Kendari plunged his straight blade down through the top of the boy’s throat and out the base of his skull. The choking and gurgling struggle mingled with the sound of searing blood and skin put the elf’s mind at ease. The boy flailed for a few moments, then he withdrew his sword, cleaned it on his victim’s cloak, and took a seat in the chair in the corner of the small office. He listened to the sound of dripping blood onto wooden flooring and thought of how that cursed sorcerer could be alive. He had cut off his arms and head, destroyed his vials of magicked liquids, even pierced his chest straight through. Kendari thought long and hard about his next move, to stay in Valhirst and finish Salah-Cam again, or head north after the noble elven beauty, Shinayne. There was no money in either, yet killing an elf with pair of swords felt better than taking a second attempt at slaying an old half-dead wizard any night to the Nadderi, especially in a city filled with men and women looking for him. He longed to see her eyes once more, smell her fragrance and fear, and cross blades with her; this time to her end.

  He sheathed his sword and snuck out the back of the warehouse office building near the wharf district, and headed into the shadows and alleys. He left the body hanging, knowing that the White Spider would find it soon and know exactly who had been there. Kendari pulled up his cloak to conceal his face, especially now that he was wanted with a heavy price from the deadliest organization of criminals on the continent. He looked to the docks through the cold winter gales that threatened more snow, seeing them calm and quiet. Nearly a hundred vessels, and the elven assassin spotted a few that appeared to be ready to sail perhaps in the morning. He had stowed away before, and could easily survive without much food or water for six days to Harlaheim. Kendari went to sneak a view of the manifests at the harbor port office to find which vessel to board.

  LCMVXIILCMVXIILCMVXIILCMVX

  “The Seaweed Dragon, leaves for port of Harlaheim tomorrow morning with, let’s see here, dwarven whiskey and leather goods and who cares. Small galleon, crew of seventy, old merchants and a few dwarven traders aboard, perfect.” Kendari closed the book next to the drunken old port captain in the lighthouse he had broken into. The lantern light warmed him from the cold of Chazzrynn in winter, as did being next to someone he did not have to kill. The cursed elf looked from the shadows to pier seventeen, noting the two men on the bow and one in the crows nest on watch. He eyed the faded green paint on the dragon carvings that decorated the ship, and put two gold coins into the gray bearded officer’s lap as he silently crept back out the window. The man snored and stirred in his sleep as the rush of cold night air of the coastal city breezed in and then stopped. The Nadderi elf closed the wooden portal with scratched glass and vanished into shadow. “Easy enough.”

  Through dark overhangs of midnight lamplight from the docks, Kendari of Stillwood walked alone to the ships, so he thought. He stepped past some wreckage of boardwalk that was being repaired, and kept moving past the Seaweed Dragon as he realized he was being followed again. He turned to the left, heading back into the city from the pier, again he saw motion on the catwalks and rooftops of the massive port city. The cursed swordsman placed his hands on his weapons then turned right toward the manor district in hopes the trackers would stay clear of the wealthy homes of nobles and such. No luck, more men appeared in front of him from the lamplit sidestreets; he was surrounded from front, rear, and above. Kendari placed his back to a lamppost and waited as nine dark cloaked men moved in. He knew them to be who he thought, for no city guards were within sight, surely a courtesy of Prince Johnas Valhera. Three of the White Spider slid down metal ladders from the darkened balconies while the six others drew daggers, shortblades, and sabers and came within fifteen feet of the hunted swordsman.

  “Over two hundred thousand in Valhirst and you men are concerned with me. I am flattered.” Kendari drew Shiver from his left hip in his right hand, and reverse gripped his second longsword in his left.

  A taller and thinner human man stepped forward, lowering his cloak to reveal a clean shaven face with tattooed markings of a spider covering its entirety. His shaved head was pale and adorned with ringed piercings through ears, eyebrows, and his lips. The tall man drew a broadsword and a pouch of what sounded to be coins. The bag was tossed at Kendari’s feet and slid right up to his enchanted leather boot.

  “You get the coin and we get an ear. We say we killed you, you get to live and leave. Otherwise, you die here Kendari. I will take the ten thousand gold one way or the other.” his hazel eyes stared at the shorter elf, not leaving the intense gaze for even a blink and twirling his broadsword trying to intimidate the elven mark.

  The Nadderi elf flipped his cloak off with a laugh and a smile. His mouth moved to say something sarcastic and wise, but for once, he quieted in his bluff. His body nonchalantly turned as if to go into deep speech and thought, then sprang out with inhuman reflex that the night could not even fathom. As the eight men turned to see that he had attacked and they stumbled into that awareness, their decorated leader fell dead as his cut throat and punctured chest poured blood down his twitching body. Kendari turned to the rest, leaving the man to shudder into the afterlife on the cobblestones.

  “And then there were eight.” he smirked, twirling Shiver as they rushed him. The cursed swordsman took a low crouch, and waited till they were within reach of his longswords.

  Four cloaked agents slowed their pace, blades out at the elf, and waited for the circle to be full and inescapable on the cobblestone street. The elf waited too, and allowed them to encircle him completely. The eight were breathing heavy, their breath steaming in the chill air illuminated by the nearby lantern hanging from the hook on the wooden streetsign. The elf flinched, and all eight flinched in return, drawing that familiar smile across his black swirled countenance. Kendari feigned to jump in the air forward, then turned halfway in midair, landing into a backwards roll the opposite direction. Between the close quarters of human legs, he narrowly tumbled past and cut across as he spun on his boot heel in full circle. His left hand blade dropped two men to the ground after the edge severed their hamstrings through to the bone. As the remaining six gave chase, the Nadderi killer leapt and stabbed Shiver into the lantern that hung, knocking it to the ground. The loud shattering of glass and flash of light was gone in a blink, yet it was the darkness of the street that was now blinding all but Kendari.

  Shiver plunged into the side between the ribs of a young assassin as his backward held edge sliced open the abdomen of another. In the black of night they yelled and tried to tell one another where this deadly bounty was moving. Screams of pain and fear rang more than steel in the streets, as their words were cut short with the merciless death the elf dealt them. Two more men turned to face the rapidly moving shadow, only to have their chests split wide as they attempted to parry the weapons that cut them down. Another young agent dove his saber at
Kendari, then felt his wrist severed and then his throat sliced through before he could raise a parry.

  “And then there were three.” the Nadderi walked directly toward the remaining men, fearless and confident. His eyes bore holes through theirs, Shiver steaming in the faint moonlight from the cloud hidden green and white moons. To his surprise, the men turned and ran. They rushed toward the inner city, not looking back, hoping the elven assassin was not in pursuit. Kendari stopped and waited for them to be out of sight, then turned back toward the docks. He stopped and picked up the bag of coins by the decorated corpse that had offered it. He sheathed one blade, then tossed the bag lightly in his free hand, testing the weight. Two hundred, maybe a few shy, he thought.

  “Two hundred gold crowns for an ear? Tempting my dead friend, but unfortunately I must decline.” the deadly swordsman of Stillwood laughed as he bowed. He walked over the two men crawling away from cut legs and dove his steel longsword into each of their backs. Their motion ceased in low groans and Kendari walked in the darkness to the ship he had decided upon, to Harlaheim and the trail of an elven noble and her allies who held something terribly valuable. Rumor had it they were heading somewhere west to more riches, dwarven riches. Kendari smiled as he pulled his cloak up once again.

  Lavress II:I

  Temple of the Whitemoon, Caberra

  The wood elf hunter of the Hedim Anah strapped his curved and ancient blades tight, checked his armor and belts, and then slung his longbow and quiver over his back. He could not take his eyes off of the lush lilac and fern that now grew in the alcove to the left of the wooden vined throne. He watched hourly as the plants had grown mystical from where Bedesh the satyr from Haven Glen had been laid to rest. Somewhere deep in the earth, with Seirena, was his friend. Lavress Tilaniun held back the tears that wished to fall across his tan and tattooed face from topaz eyes. Distracting himself, the savage hunter tied his hair back, minding the braids and feathers that adorned it; each one of them a reminder of something or someone dear to him. He had no idea of how to tell Shinayne when he saw her that Bedesh of had perished. He did, however, have thoughts of facing the Nadderi murderer responsible and seeing if he was accepted into the earth so readily. Being devout of the Goddess of life and nature, Lavress could not see how Kendari was even allowed to walk the earth, but he would surely end that privilege in the future should he have the opportunity.

  “It is time Lavress. The temple of Princess Ramaya-nun has left us and will remain in Chazzrynn for some time. I will remain here with Kilbura, do not fear, I am safe great hunter of the Hedim Anah.” Finwell-dur’s voice was soft and audible, she was not speaking to his heart or aura as she sometimes did. Her small fairy form floated toward him, using her clear and radiant wings.

  “Were you able to locate the Nadderi elf that killed Bedesh and Jevendial, princess?” Lavress felt the pommel of his falcata, thinking of seeing Bedesh again, thinking of them running through forests together like the wolves that adorned his blade.

  “No, we were not.” Kilbura the sphinx and priest of the temple spoke with his deep feline voice. “We are uncertain if he is alive or dead. Some of the trees sensed the trolls were there for him, not to join him, but to kill him. The trees are rarely ever wrong, and I doubt after your battle, the hiroon’s battle, and Bedesh’s arrow, that he could have survived a swarm of trolls. No one is that deadly or powerful Lavress. I feel he is no more, you should concentrate on Eliah Shendrynn now.”

  “But no proof. He could be alive still.”

  “That is true, hunter. However, we are far from there now, at least ten days by the fastest vessel humans could make. Your elven senses and tracking are needed for more urgent things. The last stolen book of high elven magic is still in the hands of Eliah the traitor.” Kilbura was speaking in low tones, forcing Lavress to listen close, and to focus his mind on what was at hand, not revenge. The great cat with the face of a bearded man stretched his wings and yawned a deep breath.

  Lavress bowed deep to the princess Finwell-dur, touching the moon tattoo on his brow. “Blessings of the Mother upon you princess.”

  “And you as well, brave protector of the Hedim Anah.” Finwell-dur bowed her head, blonde locks and curls flowing from a wind that surrounded her glistening fey body.

  Kilbura walked out the chambers to the steps as dryads walked in and out of the tree roots that decorated the interior of the underground temple. Their naked forms lithe and graceful as any elven woman, they bowed to the priest and the hunter. Pixies, nixies, hand sized sprites, and every manner of pointy eared goblin and tiny gnome peaked out from the foliage to see the two as they walked the steps out of the sacred site. The air was warmer, the trees different, and Lavress noticed the goblins and gnomes looking at him with a myriad of colors to their eyes. They had not been in the temple before in Chazzrynn, he would have seen them.

  “Where did all the little ones come from, Kilbura?” Lavress squinted to see the small foot tall forms of green skinned fey with red eyes and wide smiles of sharp teeth from a handful of fast moving goblins and bearded gnomes.

  “Each temple is the same, yet different my elven friend. The chambers are the same, yet the life there differs at each location. Here in Caberra, goblins, gnomes and wisp fairies are more common; and all are welcome of course. The princess Ramaya-Nun is most likely seeing the cold and snow with all the sprites and nixies that Chazzrynn has to offer. If you were ever to travel to the temple in the far west, you would have princess Nunwar-Lan and kithian to greet you. The seven temples that remain to the Whitemoon host and protect a variety, Lavress.” Kilbura bowed in return to a small goblin that scurried past on the steps.

  “Kithian? Who is that?”

  “The kithian are the last of the cyclops, twice as tall as you and not like their giant cousins much at all. They live at peace with the Goddess, yet are fierce hunters that have a vision unlike any other race.”

  “I hope to be there one day, to see all the temples, my friend. Now, where am I to go?” the elven hunter took the last step into bright daylight of early morning. The air was dry and warm and the ground rocky and full of sparse forest and hills.

  “There.” the great sphinx pointed his feline paw toward the east where brown rocky cliffs appeared faintly as the sun rose behind him to the west.

  Lavress admired the stones of the sacred circle, all of them as tall as he. They were in the same places as in the other temple, yet the writing was older form and the stones were deep brown and polished instead of white and rough. “And what is there?”

  “The Cliffs of Selronis, on the other side near there is an old shrine to the Carician Gods of old. It is the one linked to the forgotten Gimmorian temple you first tracked the rogue noble to in the Deep South of Chazzrynn. It will be guarded, but by what I do not know. The princess and the fey court have sensed the book is there. When you find it, bring it back to us for we need to take them to the safety of Gualidura.” Kilbura stared at the cliffs, unable to sense what was there, for the old magicks were too strong.

  “Gualidura? To my home? Why not to Kilikala where they belong?” Lavress was puzzled, despite the distance over the Soltaic Ocean, he could not ration why they would go to his forested savage homeland.

  “There is much stirring in the elven homeland right now, too much to explain. They will be safe there until secure measures can be assured. Trust in the fey court, and please be careful.” Kilbura sat on all fours to pray and meditate the will of Seirena and safe passage for this brave wood elf.

  “I will return soon, high priest.” Lavress bowed as the wind blew across the barren trees of Caberra.

  His steps were light and quick, yet his mind ran with too much. Shinayne was near, to the south of here, he could feel her. He wished to see the girl he had been meeting only in serene elven dreams, and to hold her. Lavress wanted the sorrow of Bedesh to be over, so that he and the elven noblewoman could once again share in the warmth of each other.

  The scattered forest gave
way, and the hunter ran through the uncomfortable open ground toward the Cliffs of Selronis. His keen senses seeing and hearing all the animals stir to the morning light, and watching for Kendari to spring from nowhere like a horrid specter. Running faster now, the wood elf of the Hedim Anah pushed his focus to the mission at hand, to face the renegade wizard once again. Eliah Shendrynn would not have forgotten him, and must be guarded well indeed to stay where he was for over a month. All Lavress thought of now was the book; for revenge, love, and sorrow had no place in the mind of a hunter such as he.

  Exodus II:IV

  Tower of Kalzarius, Harlaheim

  Kalzarius looked down from the twentieth floor window, admiring the floating torches of orange, yellow, blues and green that swirled slowly around his home. He stroked his long gray beard and watched as normal lanterns amassed outside his walls and gates, hundreds of them in the crisp early dawn breeze as over a thousand soldiers marched the wet cobblestone to lay siege. The crown and rose banners were held high on the wind, and low on the tabards of the footman and archers that surrounded the massive marble tower. The old wizard saw his men stand fast behind the walls and gates, knowing their master and his arcane students had many a spell and protective barrier in place between the hundred of them and the thousands led by several mounted knights of Harlaheim. Kalzarius looked to see who was leading the siege, a siege that had the backing and order of both king and church. He saw Madame Florin on her black stallion, the noble Sir Sebastian to the south, and Bishop Javiel with Sir Phillip to the north. The old master of the arcane knew the woman had been too close to the king for far too long, and assumed she was in charge. Her guards that surrounded her were those of Savanno’s, the Lord Knight Errant; meaning she had replaced him and now led the knights of Harlaheim, but not those of the Order of Saint Tarumin. Only the Cardinal, Kalzarius knew, could order them to attack unless to defend the kingdom from foreign invasion. He hoped that those truly loyal to Alden and the church would find a way to stop the siege. Halberds, lances, rapiers, shields, and archers all pointed at the tower that his forefathers had built so long ago.