The Exodus Sagas: Book II - Of Dragons And Crowns

by Jason R Jones

  “No word lady Florin, but Prince Johnas has made contact and demands an update on the situation here in Harlaheim.” his monotone voice dragged out of his lungs like an anchor across the ocean floor. He had no reason to live save his duties here with the White Spider. His family was killed many years ago in the war with Chazzrynn, and he was forced out of Kalzarius’ tutelage due to his inability to focus for long; Yari was like a zombie just moping through each day and night waiting for the end.

  “Inform our patriarch that we have control of the capital, and soon the kingdom. My false execution will be in two days and that should sever any ties. The throne will be solely in our hands within the year, after the church is discredited and the young king is eliminated. All is in order, no witnesses save Richmond the Second.” Florin waved her hand for the old wizard to go and relay the message on the warlock mirrors in his chamber. Her thoughts went to Alec, who she had personally trained since he was young. He was not one to fail, her best and deadliest swordsman, and he should have returned by now.

  Yari slugged back to her minutes later, step by step, his expressionless face morose and dreary as always. His smell was of old sweat and overworn robes and his fingernails were long and curled from lack of care or attention to hygiene. “Johnas says to be mindful of the returning cardinal and the Crossguard Legion. Also he wishes an update on the scroll and the capture of young Lazlette and her allies.”

  Florin fumed, she did not have the answers to the second query as Alec was nowhere to be found. As far as the deadly legion of the church, she cared little. They would investigate, make a show of power, try and usurp the king, and play politics and morality until they realize that it will be for naught. Then, to save the face of the religion, they would find blame among others or the will of God Alden for a higher purpose and make excuses for the suffering of Harlaheim. Florin had seen it before, heard it before, and was not fearful in the slightest of church authority here. With Javiel being executed on the morrow, her confidance was untouchable. In other countries this could be terrifying. Harlaheim had severed most ties to the church and few could change that.

  “Tell him I appreciate the warning, and that the scroll and those that carry it are being brought in.”

  “Lady Florin, we have not heard from-“

  “I know damn well that we have not! I am aware! I do not need you to tell me, wizard. Relay the message as I have instructed or your smell will surely worsen after I run you through and leave you to rot. Alec will return with the salisans and with the captives and their scroll. He does not fail! Please do the same, and tell Johnas what I have ordered you to. Thank you.” her words dripped with anger and uncertainty, yet she went on hope and past experiences of her best swordsman. “Look now Yari, you have made me lose my noble composure.”

  “Apologies abound, your majesty.” the old Harlian agent bowed and withdrew to the lit chamber once more to contact Valhirst and pass on the instructed responses. He had not the energy to fight or care whether Florin succeeded in this political takeover or no. He hoped only that someday this place was discovered and he could lay down all his arcane powers upon the enemy, whoever they were. His mind wandered to dying at the hands of some great organization or army and taking as many of them with him as he could. Perhaps then, Kalzarius would hear of his abilities and power and feel ashamed for turning him away all those years ago.

  More minutes went by, and the old mage approached Florin again, this time bowing deeply. His unspoken sarcasm was painfully obvious. “Your grand highness, Prince Johnas has informed us from Valhirst that when the cardinal attempts to take Harlaheim we are to remain hidden and low for a time. He has something arranged that will turn it to our favor. Cristoff the Third was summoned to a secret meeting with Savanno, and may be a loose end. We must see to it immediately.”

  “Reply that it shall be done, but by order of the king himself for treason. We need not have a hand in it.”

  “Yes, my queen.”

  “Stop it Yari, or I will spill your insides right here, are we clear?” she had had enough of the taunts and jests at her posing as Queen Rosanna. She had done all of this after years of planning and scheming within the court and with the king. The lady assassin was already rich beyond need, and this life of service and treachery was nearly over for her. No one else was aware of it, but Florin was on her way out of the White Spider. Her plan had to be perfect, for there truly is no leaving Johnas Valhera.

  “Does the king suspect you as anything other than a treacherous knight of Harlaheim, mistress Florin? Has he any clue who you work for?” Yari started to walk once more to the room that held the warlock mirrors he had been trained to use.

  “I certainly hope not, for all our sakes. He is far too young and wrapped in his own lack of power to know of us or the White Spider. I am sure at this point he will be having me trailed, so our routes and meeting times will have to adjust. Why do you ask old man?” Florin breathed heavily in the musty still air of the dark underground. She stood up, reached for the crown and placed it on her brow.

  “Just curious mistress, that’s all. I had thought by now that Balric would have exposed us, since we knew he was working with the bishop and all. I do not see why he delayed and then left for Valhirst, or why we let him.” Yari turned and drug himself to send the latest message to the head of the guild.

  “Johnas has his reasons and his schemes that always outdo our own and are days and weeks ahead. His need to know more of Balric D’Vrelle and who he works for is none of our business; we just do as we are told. He knows things before we do, the Emerald Eight keep him well informed. I am to court, send men to find Alec and have him brought to me immediately.” Florin turned up the stairs, careful not to let her silver and blue gown drag on the dirty floor.

  “Yes, your majesty.” Yari whispered, and chuckled to himself thinking only of what a sick and sad world he lived in. He longed for the end of it all, an end to the corruption he had surrounded himself with and served for so many decades. He passed by the barred room that was next to his and looked in once more. The true queen lay gagged and bound in a cold dank cell, dressed as a knight of Harlaheim and awaiting execution. Yari felt terrible guilt at Rosanna being prisoner, the queen of the kingdom was treated as an animal for political maneuvers right here before him. He lowered his head and passed by, unable to look her in the eye. He hoped someone would come and rescue her, but he himself felt unworthy to do anything noble about any of it.

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  “Balric! Your time with Miss Blackflame is over, come in here and guard the doors. Now!” Johnas barked from his onyx throne under Valhirst. He had been letting his magically enslaved swordsman spend a few moments here and there with his scarred wizard lover. He enjoyed testing the devotion that the necklace and arcane evocations produced.

  Balric felt his mind dull and obey the commands of Johnas Valhera. His eyes turned from the beautiful Caberran girl who was polishing and reading the strange marble tablets. He almost forgot who she was, who he was, for a moment as the impulses to serve the Prince were overpowering. He heard Vanessa whimper as he left, then sob and try to stifle it. He could do nothing, and he walked into the main chamber and throne room of his master. The Harlian spy strode across the White Spider design upon the floor, watched by dozens of thieves, criminals, doppelgangers, and assassins; each of which he would love to put to the edge of his saber. He posted, arms folded, by the doors next to the spiked pit and waited as ordered.

  “Good, good. I would be careful everyone. I seem to have the most loyal bodyguard, deadly protection through better arcane practices.” Johnas laughed, and the room full of his subordinates followed him with chuckles and sneers of approval.

  “My Prince.” Vanessa walked out from the small side chamber, teary-eyed, and bowed as her hands shook from desperate fear and hopelessness. “Domenarch Florin of Harlaheim returns the message and states that Cristoff will be taken care of by the king and our hands will have nothing-�
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  “Fine, fine, wonderful.” Johnas took a long inhale from the opium pipe that smoldered at his feet, the hose connected to a tiger shaped hooka. His eyes sunk in further, his mind cleared to leave only vile thoughts and plots that floated along bloody skies of his vivid imagination. His body felt as if it were rising, but to him alone.

  “I also have received a message from Jade of the West in Devonmir, Prince Johnas. She asks of what you wish done with the domenarch there that has been skimming the tithes.”

  Johnas exhaled a barely visible puff of smoke through his nostrils and relaxed in his throne. “Tell her to have the minotaur scare the gold out of them, but not kill them. I want thirty thousand sent to compensate for their lack of honesty, and one of his fingers. Ha!” he drifted in and out of consciousness, the Altestani opium was pure and mystical beyond that of anywhere else.

  Vanessa walked back into the chamber with the enchanted tablets to relay the massages in secret arcane tongue. She trembled, knowing that Johnas Valhera was his worst when he was under the opium spell. His calm would turn to lust, anger, wickedness, or sleep in a matter of an hour; sometimes all of them within a minute of each other. Her powers as a wizard were strong, but this man had a grip of fear and terror over her that made it nearly impossible to concentrate on her arcane energies, she had tried many times to unleash something upon him and run. Each time her magic failed as the fear stepped in, and she had remained since a young girl to act as his mistress, lover, caretaker, and house wizard here in the dark underground of Valhirst. Vanessa knew there was little hope of ever escaping.

  The door opened slowly in the main chamber, and Balric leaned forward to speak with the shadowy figure. He turned to Johnas and bowed, his hand on the hilt of his saber. “Crimson of the North of the Emerald Eight to see the Prince!”

  The dark skinned man walked forward without a sound, his beard covered by a cloth mask up to his nose and his tight form fitting black garments and leather armor blended with the darkness of the torchlit chamber. His hands were folded at his waist as his curved shamshir and several small knives dangled from his belt. He approached the throne and knelt on one knee, awaiting the prince to let him rise.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure, dear Fadim?” Johnas had expected his deadliest agents to report every year, and Fadim was a month early. His position as overseer of the empires of Altestan was precarious indeed, as a strong foothold had not been established. Johnas knew this man to be deadly, trained by himself many years ago, but with the cultural ties of an enemy kingdom and race, he was always a bit suspicious.

  The agent of the White Spider reached in his pouch and removed three stones, rubies the size of eggs and handed them to the prince. Silence reigned through the room as the shimmering red princess rubies were placed in the hand of Johnas. “I have found trade in Altestan, and began to build many contacts and in the city of Khedra. There is an underground mining operation hidden from imperial eyes, now belonging to us. Many who would stand in our way have been eliminated my prince.”

  “Moving quickly I see. Tell me Fadim, how is the opium trade and slave merchantry faring? We have had an incident here with a foreign prince of Altestan that may have set us back.” Johnas set the stones on the arm of his throne.

  “I have heard, my prince. Many speak in dark corners in my beautiful homeland of breaking ties with us. They say that Caberra is weakened, Kivanis too zealous, and Chazzrynn is divided. The White Spider seems too treacherous for their religious devotions to Yjaros, and we have alliances that are against their preferences. They feel the White Spider had a hand in the missing ship and the nobility that was aboard. They know that Shanador, the elves, and even the dwarven kingdoms will not allow the chosen race of men to trade on Agarian soil or waters. I tell you now that I feel an invasion could happen in our lifetimes if we do not comply-“

  “And if that were to occur, assure them that many more trireme warships and princes would find the bottom of the ocean. We are merely setting our feet in the underworld, politics and nobility come and go like the tide. The great empire has three emperors that could not agree on much of anything, and while they worship whomever and threaten every race other than their own, we will take over their undercities, one by one.”

  “You know my loyalties, Johnas. I have spilt blood for the White Spider in eight countries. I am simply stating that the empire we are digging into is entrenched in tradition and history. They will not deal with races that go against their spiritual beliefs, and they know that we do. They also know we allow wizards to learn from books and give women rank and title. This conquest of spreading our organization into the holy land of Altestan will be a bloody one. Many blades will have to cut in the night to break through to the trade you seek.” Fadim bowed, yet maintained his dark eyes fixated on the emerald green eyes of Johnas Valhera. The Altestani man had been betrayed by his own people long ago, and his revenge had brought him to this place. He learned much of himself, and perfected his skills as a deadly assassin with the Prince. His revenge was taken over a decade ago, yet his passion was now for the hunt, the wealth, and the prestige he now held.

  “Then cut away, Crimson of the North, cut away. Make the White Spider known in Altestan. Train your domenarchs for each city you take from below, send them to meet me and receive their brand, and let us take the trade we want by force and shadow. One of my eight deadliest and most devoted, Fadim, stay with me a week and let me prepare you for what you are about to accomplish for us.” Johnas knew that he would need to send for men, wizards, and plenty of coin to give Fadim what he would need to build their presence in the north. He looked at the opium pipe again and smiled.

  “I would be most gracious and honored, my prince.” Fadim bowed once more, relaxing a bit. He remembered all too well how Johnas could be when under the affects of opium.

  “In less than a week we lock down the undercity of Valhirst and head west. I have to meet with a few less than savory leaders of various Chazzrynn natives. Salah-Cam is organizing them as we speak. This country will think twice should my uncle try and let his little whelp bark at me again. They will have far more than the White Spider to deal with if they do! Let us drink, to endless chests of gold, women, blood, opium, and power after the sun sets and the moons rise!” tipsy and flowing on the drugs from the northern empires, Johnas stood and raised a glass of wine to his servants, slaves, and assassins. He admired the spread of his diabolical mind that had no conscience. His only care was more and more power, more and more of everything he could get, for it was never enough. The wine, the opium, all Johnas was missing was some blood. “Balric, bring Fadim and I some prisoners…and give them swords!”

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  “Aaarrrggghhh! Ahhhayahhh! My hand, my focking hand!” Rinicus held his right hand tight, the pain and blood forcing his eyes shut as he screamed.

  Chalas Kalaza dropped the two fingers he had just mercilessly ripped off of the human’s hand and stared at him. The scarred brown minotaur smiled knowing that it was far more painful than a quick cut. “Be thankful, human, that it was only a few fingers that I ripped from you.”

  “Chalas! We were to cut off one finger, not rip half of his hand apart!” Kaya had her blade out, looking at the men who surrounded them on the balcony over the arena. She did not trust that they would respect her position as their domenarch was assaulted so brutally. They had their hands on every variety of weapon, silent and waiting for a moment to strike. “Prince Johnas also demands thirty thousand in gold coin for your disloyalty, Rinicus three-blades.”

  “Three fingers is more accurate now.” Chalas chuckled and began staring at the men around them who appeared to be having second thoughts about defending their leader against this vicious minotaur and the deadly female assassin of the Prince’s council. The sadistic horned gladiator hoped that they tried something, just to give him reason to tear someone apart.

  “Johnas has spared your life, I would be thankful. You know him well enough,
tonight luck shined from somewhere. Going forward, you will tithe the coin gained from the underground arena as well as this one here. Understood?” Kaya T’Vellon spoke softly, sheathing her shortblade while she looked down at the man struggling to wrap his hand with his cloak. She felt numb, empty, as if this was just another wretch she had to deal with to stay alive. Her fear was placed deep where no one could see. The lady assassin hated being in these tight positions where rank and loyalty among criminals balanced her life on the edge of a knife. Unlike her counterpart who seemed to enjoy it, Kaya felt she had no choice and would give anything to be free of it. Sadly, this was all she had left, and she was good at it.

  “Understood. Send the bastard my deepest focking apologies.” Rinicus stood, then leaned over to pick up his fingers that the minotaur had ripped from his hand. A heavy boot stepped over them.

  “Those do not belong to you anymore, Rinicus of Devonmir. Show me to your underground arena, I wish to participate in some bloodshed.” Chalas beamed his gaze down upon the injured man, receiving a wicked smile backed with trembling fear in return.

  “I would most enjoy seeing you in that arena, Chalas Kalaza, very much so.” the criminal lord stood up to the horned warrior’s chest. “This way.”

  Followed by nearly two dozen men and a wizard, Kaya and Chalas walked behind Rinicus through the stands and balconies of the Tre’ hahdim arena above ground. Several human slaves currently battled four armored gladiators in the round pit as cheers echoed from thousands and coins passed hands through the masses. Black robed gambling merchants walked the rows and reaches of the populace, followed by wine and spirits vendors, children selling bread and foods, and finally the sultry pleasure companions of varied human cultures sold their bodies and escorted men to their rooms. Kaya noticed men fornicating in the stands, drunks asleep clutching their coin purses, calls and screams for blood, and illicit trade of slaves, whores, and drugs taking place every other moment. She kept her eyes lowered, having not the desire to embrace or view humanity at its worst. She looked to the stalking minotaur behind her. The opposite attitude was apparent, Chalas had a grin across his bovine scarred face. To him, this was life and home.