The Exodus Sagas: Book II - Of Dragons And Crowns

by Jason R Jones

  “You still want to leave, lady Shinayne?” the soft voice of the dragon had hints of knowing the answer to the rhetorical question already, but said it just to make her point.

  “Of course not, your wisdom is beyond thanks great Ansharr. I still miss him and love him, though. But as he has his journey, so must I.” the elven swordswoman bowed deep with eyes closed to the great red dragon of the mountain.

  “There is something still missing, something that hinders your meditation. I have a gift for you. I have treasures to share with all of you, but yours is especially sacred and dear to me. Come, I will show you.” Ansharr walked back into her cavern, past the sleeping travelers, and into her treasury with the highborne elf close behind. It had been a millennia since she was given this token of honor from an elf king from the north. One of her prized belongings, yet it did her little use here collecting dust. “Now I must tell you first of how these came to me.”

  Shinayne’s aquamarine eyes opened wide, having never seen this amount of perfection, beauty, or ancient decoration in such a set. “Oh I couldn’t great dragon. I mean, if you absolutely insist.”

  “I absolutely insist.”

  Lavress II:III

  Gimmorian Temple, Selronis Cliffs, Caberra

  The sliver in the cliff widened as Lavress Tilaniun silently crept from stone inlet to ledge to stalagmites for cover. Unlike the previous hidden temple in the cliffs of the Deep South, this cavern was adorned with statues and designs that depicted stoic and artistic things. Giant winged men with wreaths in their hands and around their feet, men twice as tall as the wood elf. They lined the walls on either side of the polished stone floor which was immaculate and held decorations of the white moon. Every word, inlay of hieroglyph, and every statue of a chiseled angelic figure was made of a light smooth stone which held an effervescent glow. As he crept closer, bow in hand, the screeching of the harpies dwindled; Lavress assumed they dared not search for him in here since they seemed to avoid the entrance. Hearing nothing, not even a whisper of what lay ahead besides more strange light, the hunter of the Hedim Anah cautiously moved in.

  Sulfur and burned skin or hair drifted lightly on the still stagnant air, the savage wood elf smelled it faintly. More statues ahead stood in his path, these not organized or lining the walls like the others nor did they seem to be made of the luminescant stone. They were black, shiny, and almost wet or glistening it seemed. Lavress stepped closer, seeing a human man in robes depicted in the carved figure before him. He touched it, the smooth edges ended in sharp jags and sticky bubbles. The smell of sulfur was from this statue, and many others like it ahead; some standing, some toppled over, all in strange positions. He turned to look at the face in the low emerald light that shone from ahead, and saw a look of terror on the man’s face. The being held a set of scrolls as if to offer them to whatever lay beyond. Lavress looked at the other human sized formations, along with several elven ones. They were not statues at all, they had been burned or covered with some sort of hardening liquid or black sulfuric ichor. These men had been turned to volcanic stone, or covered in it; some very recently as had been making some sort of ritual or presentation of gifts. Lavress looked ahead to the shimmering pool of glowing liquid set in the ground ahead. Blade in one hand, book in the other, Lavress saw the motionless obsidian statue he assumed was Eliah Shendrynn.

  One man with a set of books, a woman covering her face in terror with a handful of wands and skulls, and many more, perhaps thirty men and women in robes, all solid shiny black. Lavress walked past them all, up to the statue of Eliah Shendrynn, the highborne rogue elven wizard he had been hunting half a year now across this continent. His eyes looked to be wide in shock, his body cast in obsidian stone yet still warm to the touch, and in his hands was a book, the book Lavress needed to return. Placing his bow on his back and returning the arrow to the quiver, the hunter drew his kukri dagger. He started to cut off a piece of what was once wizardly robes, chiseled it until a piece fell to the ground. Lavress watched, hoping it would return to cloth, but it did not. The hunter looked at Eliah, looked to his arms holding the book, and to his kukri and sharp curved falcata. He thought to chop it out of the statue and let the elven wizards or priests figure a way to turn it back from onyx stone to a book. He cared not for Eliah’s hand in this dead set eternity, only the book.

  A snarl from the other side of the strange glowing pool snatched that idea from him, as he took cover behind the statue of his prey and prize. Lavress slowly drew his falcata with the chasing wolves design in the hilt and tried not to breathe. The deep snarling and heavy footsteps denoted something large, much larger than himself.

  He peered around the frozen black figure of Eliah Shendrynn and saw the creature walking out from around the pool right toward him. Easily twelve feet tall and hunched over at the shoulder, the beast had the face of a wolf yet walked on two legs. Clawed feet and hands gave way to gray and black mottled fur with a hairless and green skinned underbelly bearing inhuman muscles and veins. Its canine face snarled from yellow and black teeth as long as his dagger and just as sharp. Red demonic eyes glowed with a green flame as its oval pupils stared back at Lavress, right through the statue; it knew he was there. Orange saliva drooled from the rows of teeth on its jaws, sizzling into the stone far below and releasing a horrid sulfuric smoke into the air. Hearing the elf breathing, as shallow as it was, its wolflike ears perked toward the statue of Eliah.

  “Uth dremgoori ergoor, feth?” the beast spoke in deep eloquent tones, mixed with a myriad of echoing moist rasps.

  Lavress had never heard the language before, but it sounded less than pleasant to his pointed ears. A nauseating aroma of rot and death caused his tan brow to furrow and his eyes to squint shut as the beast stepped closer, almost to the other side of the statue he was hiding behind. “I wish no worship nor trouble, demon. Simply to take back what was stolen and leave.”

  “Ahhh, the Agarian tongue, spoken by a savage elf, how odd. Most do not bring me the proper offerings or prayers to be allowed to speak to the ancients, or make use of the temple. You bring nothing, worship nothing, and merely want to steal. Die.” the demonic wolf guardian spoke calmly, snidely, and without any imperfections to the language of the men of this continent.

  “And who is it I am to worship here? I do not recognize the statues lining the walls, and there are many. Perhaps you could instruct me, before turning me to blackened stone?” the hunter was stalling, knowing by the aura, the buzzing of small gnats, and the voice, that this creature was a demon summoned and bound to this place. Lavress felt fear, but ignored it knowing that the presence of a creature from hell could instill many feelings against his will. He peered around the statue again, noticing the claws, the teeth, the eyes; he was trying to guess how the foul underworld servant of the old Gods was able to turn these people to stone. He met the gaze of the wolf-beast and felt nothing, saw no rings of magic or symbols on the wicked claws or teeth on quick inspection. Lavress surmised it was either a vested power or spell, or the breath or saliva. The wood elf knew that he had to disrupt the words should it start to chant and not get bitten or breathed upon.

  ”Ahhh, you know not of the old ones? Yjaros the creator of all, Cancuru, Shukuru, Mowg, the demons Daitann, Mulitan, the children and immortals of the green moon, the lords of Gimmor, rulers of hell and the flesh? My masters bid thee welcome, elf, and accept you into an eternity of torment to which I am about to send your mortal soul.” more orange saliva dripped and spat onto the stone floor, burning and smoldering as the demon spoke. It stalked through the statues of those it had condemned, moving when the elf did, like a cat and mouse routine.

  “I think my soul is safe with Seirena, demon. Tell your masters another time.” Lavress dove from behind the statue into a tucked roll between its legs, brushing a hairless tail that moved like a snake. He cut with his kukri dagger as he passed, slicing through the fur-smattered flesh on the demon’s leg. The hunter then sprang to his feet, turned left beside th
e glowing pool and dove into an alcove that provided cover and shadow. Just as his shoulder turned the quick corner behind stone, a rancid hot blast of foul wet air sizzled into the rock. Dim orange light flickered out as the saliva turned to acrid smoke and sulfuric residue. Lavress knew now, looking at the black shine to the corner he had turned, that it was the hellish breath that gave this creature the power to turn things to black stone.

  The beast stalked forward, stepping by the pool and growling an unearthly tone that seemed to darken the entire cavern. It breathed in deep again, puffing its chest out as it filled with air that was now ready to cover the elf and encapsule him in volcanic rock. It looked around the alcove, orange and black wind streaming from behind sharp fangs, yet nothing was there. It felt the dig of enchanted steel across its back, then again in the thigh. The wolf-demon turned to see the shadow of the elf duck and slide behind another statue of one of its victims. “You are quick, little morsel, even for an elf. I shall enjoy watching you scream in place forever.”

  The wood elf hunter stayed still, waiting to sense where the creature would move to next. He heard steps on the right of the statue of a robed woman he hid behind. Lavress feinted to turn and face the demon, then spun back the other way and sprung high in the air after just three rapid steps. Black claws ripped out at him from an outstretched arm of the massive wolven guardian. The hunter of the Hedim Anah stabbed the kukri through the palm as it came toward him, and slashed down with the shoulder of the curve of his deadly falcata, severing the wrist clean off. Not stopping to see the blood, the wounded demon, or the clawed hand that lay on the stone floor; he landed into another roll and slid quickly behind another statue.

  Howls and hisses blended with the ripping of hot acidic breath cast a deafening cacophony throughout the entire chamber. Lavress held still knowing that one small move from his covered location would get him smothered in the orange hellflames that sprayed from the demon’s mouth. One false motion would result in his body becoming like the obsidian statue he hid behind. Black smoke steamed from the floor and statue, shiny bubbling paste formed from deep orange liquid making it nearly impossible to breath. The hunter waited for the moment inbetween the demon’s steps and inhalation of more air, hearing that split second of a chance to make his move. This time he feigned to roll out low, then pulled back as he heard the sizzling breath unleash. He pretended to dive to the other side, and the demon was waiting there, clawed hand ready. Lavress stepped back to his left again, leaping high in the air, leading with the falcata. He struck down with all his speed and strength at the hunched wolven creature from hell, the curved blade piercing through the top of the canine snout of his foe. The hunter shoved the blade down to the hilt, penetrating both the top and bottom jaws, then kicked his legs up and around onto the creature’s back, still holding the falcata for balance.

  The demon roared and howled, it’s clawed hand over Lavress’ hand, trying to remove the blade that held its jaws together as orange saliva poured from it’s mouth and fangs. The hunter held on tight as the beast twisted and turned, whipping its body with great strength. He plunged his kukri dagger into the demon’s neck once, twice, faster than even he could count. Bright crimson blood with the smell of decay covered the savage elf’s arm and legs as he began slicing his attacks through deeper flesh. The demon thrashed as its severed neck drained wicked blood down the hairless front muscles of its demon form. The hunter did not give up, tossing his dagger into the air, he switched hands on the falcata, then caught the spinning kukri dagger as it descended back down. As the demon smashed him into the wall of the forgotten and forbidden temple, Lavress began driving the dagger through the right side of the neck and shoulders. The wood elf could feel his curved blade scraping vertebrae now, so he pulled the falcata free to sever the head of this beast. As he pulled the blade, the demon gave another shrug of muscle and desperation.

  The hunter found himself sprawled out on the stone floor, blades in hand as this canine guardian from the fires of the netherworld turned to face him; still very much alive and dangerous. It breathed again, attempting to turn the elf into black stone, yet the air and flaming saliva sprayed out down the chest of the demon as his throat and lungs were punctured. Lavress sprang to his feet quickly, lunged upward, and buried both blades into the chest of the wolven demon just as it’s claw raked across his back. It fell backwards, but not down to the ground. Hissing, snarling, splattering blood and vile orange incendiary liquid all over itself, the beast staggered and looked around for the elf.

  The slash from the falcata severed the muscle above the back of the demon’s knee, and it fell to a kneeling position, claw flailing to catch the hunter. Again from the shadows, a deadly chop from the forward curved edge hit true; this time severing the exposed spine above the shoulders. The wolven head of the hellborne creature fell to the stone floor by the shimmering pool, and the massive demon body followed. Lavress watched as black smoke erupted from the corpse of the bestial guardian he had defeated, and the howling sound of a thousand wolves echoed in the cavern as it slowly disintegrated into a pool of gray and black. He felt his wound, three deep cuts through his leather and hides across his shoulder blades that had moistened his clothing with blood.

  Lavress Tilaniun, savage wood elf of the Hedim Anah, walked over to the now smoldering statue of Eliah Shendrynn holding the fourth book of high elven magic. He smelled the sulfur stronger now, and saw the sizzling begin not just on Eliah, but all of the thirty or so figures around him. Slow motions, muffled moans, and bits of sticky bubbling black shiny paste fell and smoldered off of them; the curse releasing as the demonic remains of their captor writhed and decayed in the temple. Lavress thought of killing them as they arose, since every one of them came to find power through the worship of old demons and forbidden dark Gods in a once holy place. His honor would not allow it, no matter how much justice his mind told him was deserved here. He pulled on the book, tearing it from the rejuvenating form of the highborne elven wizard. The arm and hand twisted unnaturally, yet he had the tome.

  Several forms fell to the ground as the onyx paste fell from their bodies and black acrid smoke filled the air in the cavern shrine. Moans and groans echoed with the fading demonic wolf howls from the remaining puddle of melting flesh that was the guardian demon. He tucked the ancient arcane tome into his satchel, sheathed his sword, and drew his longbow. Lavress thought of his friend Bedesh the satyr who had perished. Every time he drew the bow his thoughts saddened as he recalled his brave little horned forest companion that had stood against the Nadderi elf swordsman, Kendari.

  Forced to refocus his attentions forward as he walked out of the sacred shrine used to contact dark Gods, Lavress heard the ear piercing shrieks of many harpies from outside the entrance. Shadows of winged cursed fey women covered the passage out, arrows shot into the temple from nearly two dozen bone bows, and the hunter realized there was no escaping that many. He turned and ran back through the rising victims of the demon, past the smoke that rose from their reawakening, and onto the solid glowing liquid of the ceremonial pool. The airborn witches were swarming toward him, and the rising captives of many centuries surrounded him with no escape, then the harpies screeched on quick wing to kill and feast on all who moved before their witching eyes.

  Lavress felt the liquid soften, moisten, and glow a strange purple, yet his body and mind resisted it on instinct. The noise of the harpies was deafening, and the added screams of newly waking priests, wizards, and sorcerers only added to his distraction. As arrows shot past him, the wood elf held the book tight, closed his eyes, and thought of release and of Seirena. He vacated his thoughts and tried to meditate on flowing through the liquid of the pool that he knew would take him somewhere else. His body sank, slowly, then faster as he allowed it to swallow him down. His body tingled, then sharp pain wracked him as a harpy arrow pierced his chest near the right shoulder, then another into his right thigh, and then he was gone.

  All was dark lights of purple and green,
his form seemed to be there, then not at all, then there again as he felt cold once more. Falling to the solidified liquid of the portal, Lavress let go of the tome and pulled the arrows out quickly. His eyes adjusted to the dark, he looked around from where he lay, injured and freezing cold. He knew this place, the stalagmites, the rough edged cavern and faint image of sconces on the sides of the natural walls. He was in Chazzrynn again, in the Deep South beyond Arouland and the Western Waste inside the forgotten Gimmorian Temple that Eliah had escaped him through. He heard the waves crash along the cliffs from the Vateric Ocean. He felt that he was alone, safe, but in the middle of nowhere. The hunter of the Hedim Anah was days from anything resembling civilization, and a week from the nearest Temple of the Whitemoon. He had no idea if or when Eliah might appear through the portal, if he survived the harpies. He started to bind his wounds, and ready himself for a long journey through the late winter of Chazzrynn, fourth stolen book of High Elven Magick in hand.

  Exodus II:IX

  Ansharr’s Cavern, Soujan Mountain, Harlaheim

  Gwenneth Lazlette felt the power of the treasury, her senses of arcane energies nearly giving her mind too much to handle. There were at least sixty items of arcane enchantment, twelve of fey infused blessings, and eight that had divine power she could not truly gauge the depth of. Such troves were the stuff of legend and tales of dragonslaying knights of old; yet here the young wizard stood over such a collection this very moment. Her eyes wandered from a redwood staff topped with an emerald, to a long indigo robe with arcane runes and draconic symbols, to a golden tiara fitted with rubies. What they did, she did not know; but she could tell they were powerful.

  “Quite interesting, are they not?” Ansharr’s long neck rose and stretched out close to the young woman that was overlooking her treasury. She had already decided to gift each of them for their bravery and commitment in bringing the scroll here through such adversity. The dragon had each picked out, and had already given the beautiful elven noblewoman hers before dawn.