The Exodus Sagas: Book II - Of Dragons And Crowns

by Jason R Jones

  “Be calm, my queen, no one will be able to tell from the balcony. Besides, they will be all too busy watching Bishop Javiel and the treacherous Seneschal Florin receive the guillotine for treason. Just act regal and wave a bit. Hold my hand, smile, and do not speak.” the king reached his hand out to Florin who sat in the queen’s throne.

  “How soon will this be over, Richmond?” she gazed with disgust at the young pointy nosed noble, and just as she had hoped for an answer to the effect of very short, Sir Sebastian stalked in past the royal guard and into the throne room. His long black tabard and swinging rapier seemed as imposing as his long braids of brown curls and the scars across his face from years of battle. He was followed by the younger Sir Phillip whose stern looks of intensity were a sign of obvious insecurity at something. A moment later it was revealed as the loyal knights remaining to the Order of Saint Tarumin, Sir Karai and Sir Leonard, marched in with their traditional shaved heads and armbands of the feathered cross of Alden. It was a given to any present that the knights of the holy Order were not on speaking terms with those whose loyalty was first to the throne.

  “Your majesties, there has been word from Saint Erinsburg, word of revolt.” Sir Sebastian took a knee and bowed to the king and queen, trying to hide his curiosity at how Rosana was on the throne after hearing rumor of her affair, her imprisonment, and her escape a mere few days back. Being too occupied with the siege he had been ordered to maintain on the tower of Kalzarius, Sebastian wondered how Florin was captured so easily and being executed for what he thought had been king’s orders. “It is good to see you safe my queen.”

  Richmond spoke quickly, hoping to cut off any ill timed attempt of Florin to speak, ensuring no one would recognize her voice from behind the disguise. “Yes, the queen is safe and secure from the schemes of the rumor spreading knights that have gone missing and the treasonous Seneschal Florin. We have not found Savanno or Sulian as of yet, but Florin is our captive below and will be executed for her riots, schemes, and attempt at the throne. Now, good knights, tell me of this revolt.”

  “Your majesty, nine men have returned from the north where they say Lord Cristoff Bradswellen and the mighty allies of Kalzarius have overthrown the occupation force you sent. He has retaken his city and castle and they say—“ Sebastian was cut off by the raised voice of Sir Karai who was standing behind, hand on his heavy rapier.

  “They also said, your majesty, that the funeral for Savanno is today, as he was found dead. Murdered by Harlaheim soldiers near Saint Erinsburg, and that you were aware of it. The order of Saint Tarumin would like to—“

  Sir Leonard drew his blade and stepped forward as Sir Sebastian and Sir Phillip turned from the thrones and drew their rapiers at the words being spoken. Sir Karai drew his slowly, fearing not the two knights before him, not fearing the truth either. “As I was saying, your highness, the Order would much like to know the reasons for laying siege to Kalzarius, then imprisoning the bishop, and then for the former Lord Knight Errant’s death by hands of the kingdom. There is also the matter of the missing Sir Sulian, Savanno’s cousin, and we have yet to see Florin in the flesh; although her crimes are evident.”

  “You dare question your king!?” Phillip stepped closer to Karai, rapier trembling, and more royal guard filled the throneroom, their numbers now thirty or more in heavy armor.

  “Oh I question more than him this last week, and even others stored from the past few years. By Alden I do, Sir Phillip. I know right and wrong, as do you!” the blades of the four knights were inches away from each other, Phillip staring at Leonard and Sebastian glaring at Karai. “It is a shame that you do not listen to the conscience that God gave you.”

  “I would watch my words Karai, we all know full well the Order of Saint Tarumin allied with Kalzarius far too many times. So many in fact, that the Cardinal and the Bishop have sought other means to see justice done since the knights of the church seem to have a will and plans of their own.” Sebastian, weary from days of laying siege and little sleep, felt the pinch of truth and retorted in anger. “Unlike you, I do not question my king. Perhaps you should explain to his majesty how you enlisted the wizards of the tower to attack the prison and free Florin the night before her execution. We would love to know your purpose behind that, holy knight.”

  “We have heard nothing of the sort and would be the last ones in Harlaheim to wish her free. Besides, was it not you who laid siege with her, and then assisted in putting down her bloody riots—“ the arguing escalated from mere words to shouts and threats from all four knights.

  Florin turned to Richmond who turned to her at the same moment. Fear swept over their eyes at the same instant. Richmond spoke first, directing the brief conversation in hushed whispers through gritted teeth, ignoring the fight about to stain his blue velvet carpet. “How did this happen, is it true?”

  “I do not know, I have heard nothing of her rescue, it is impossible.” Florin thought her way through this, knowing it could be possible indeed. She had heard nothing of Alec Silverblade nor many of her agents in the last few days, save Yari, the old wizard of her underground operations. Florin did her best to not give in to asking details from the knights as to what they knew of the matter. Her words could give her away as not being the queen, and then she would have much more blood to spill.

  “Well find out, now. You have resources, I am well aware, my queen. If she has escaped, find her and kill her. I will arrange some peasent girl to take her place in case you fail. And I would recommend against failing at this point in our relationship, my queen.”

  “Do not threaten me Richmond, I have spilled blood and taken great risks here as well. You have many enemies in this kningdom, and if some of them have liberated your cheating wife from her cell awaiting execution, that is hardly my fault. What do you expect me to do?” Florin growled through her teeth as the knights squared off and turned circles at blade point, continuing their threats of honor and respect.

  “I would expect you to handle this and fix it. We have people gathered outside now, and it will only grow. Hundreds and thousands need to see or hear that we stood together and saw to it our enemies received their justice this day. You have an hour Florin, one hour.” Richmond sneered at her and stood, lifting his imposter bride by the hand. “Enough, gentlemen, enough! The queen has heard enough, and shall retire to her bedchamber.”

  The four knights bowed, as did the king himself as Florin left the room by way of the passage behind the thrones. Richmond walked past the four brave and loyal protectors of his kingdom, right inbetween them as they knelt with sword tips pointed in the blue carpet. His false smile would have fooled no one, but his present company was too busy staring at the floor and collecting their breath from the interrupted duel about to ensue. The young king was full of worry and doubt. He stood over the balcony that overlooked the stone courtyard below, watching as the people gathered in the morning sun. Merchants and the poor arrived first to sell their wares and foods to the masses that would soon overfill the center of the city before Castle L’Herrim to watch the beheadings of Javiel and who they would think is Florin. His ill feelings were merely tension, for Richmond felt no grief, no pity, and no remorse for what he was about to do. His only concern was that Rosana was found by his people, not anyone else.

  “Lift the siege on Kalzarius and have the men take rest then report to the castle for further instruction. Sebastian and Phillip, you will apologize on behalf of myself, for the former Seneschal’s actions and those actions of the soon to be deceased Bishop. See to it that Kalzarius hears our regrets.” Richmond had hoped for a victory at the tower, but as history had proven, Kalzarius and fifty men were stronger with the arcane arts than several thousand soldiers with weapons of war and destruction. He thought the best action was to lay blame on others, send false letters, and leave him be for a time.

  “Yes your majesty, at once.” the two knights of Harlaheim stood, saluted with their blades, then cast glances at their two fellow knights
of the Order. Sir Phillip and Sir Sebastian walked out of the throne room through the grand double doors to carry out their orders.

  “Sir Karai, Sir Leonard, please stand.” Richmond turned to the honorable warriors of the kingdom and the church. “You will go to Saint Erinsburg, send word to Lord Cristoff of what has happened here with Florin’s attempts at wresting the throne from me. Assure him that he is safe, and that I had nothing to do with the death of his cousin, nor anyone else. Let him know that Florin and Javiel are to be executed, and the attacks on his city and castle were of their design. Send my condolences for his losses, and bid him to L’Herrim after the ceremonies.” the king knew that these men had many of the church and other knights from other kingdoms behind them, watching them, loyal to them. His best move here would be to send them to a place he intended to destroy, where his remaining enemies would be waiting for the same fate.

  “My king, if I may ask but a few things of you?” Karai bowed slightly, sheathing his sword.

  “Of course knight, ask anything of me you wish.”

  “Is it true what they say about the queen, that she and Savanno were together and he was killed for it?” Karai and Leonard knew the answer, and Karai knew it was wrong to ask the question, but he had to see how it was so easy for his king to lie to his face.

  “It was a terrible rumor, developed by Florin and Javiel to overthrow the kingdom. Savanno took it serious, and has made many errors in as much. Do you think I would have her on the throne if it were true? Trust me, good knights, this is tragic and disheartening to me as well as yourselves. I can only hope that a stronger kingdom, a stronger Harlaheim arises from it.” his eyes barely met the gaze of Karai, his words were soft, and his demeanor looked distressed and morose. He blinked as the knights stayed perfectly calm and stared at him.

  “Of course, your highness. As a knight, I must do as I am asked in the service of God and king. As a man, I only wish to know the truth from the ones I serve. Please excuse my questions, sire.” Karai bowed once more.

  “And as a man, I can forgive those that would seek to harm myself or the kingdom, but as king, I must see that their crimes are given justice, and the crimes of their allies. Now go to Saint Erinsburg and comfort Lord Cristoff as best you can. I will see you both in a few days. I will send my best royal escorts along to ensure your safety in these troubled times.” Richmond waved his hand, not caring that it would be the last time they breathed next to him. For the king, the days of honorable knights and loyal servants of Alden was at an end, long overdue in fact.

  “Yes, your majesty.” Karai and Leonard gave blade salutes and walked out the entrance to L’Herrim. They both knew what the order really was. They could tell that the escorts would be much more than just that, and they also knew what they had to do to truly serve the kingdom now. They looked to one another with the same knowing glance, and continued to march out of the courtyard, perhaps for the last time. They would ride north, but to stand against the wicked, not to send his words.

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  The swordsman assassin heard footsteps coming down the stairs. He stopped in his wide-eyed survey of the scorched walls and bars of the underground hideout of the White Spider, a home he had hoped would be welcoming and warm. It was far from that and Alec Silverblade hid around a corner of one of the prison passageways as he noticed the glow of flickering shadow and torchlight caress the stone walls. He quickly and quietly scantered over the cave-in that cluttered most of the main hallway. The young master of the sword, still seeping blood from his bandaged wounds, courtesy a second time of Shinayne T’Sarrin, placed his gloved hands on his rapier. Alec stopped his breathing, his nose still partially numb from his first encounter with the highborne elf he now despised, and watched from afar to see who was approaching. He expected to see a disturbed Yari, a group of agents who would explain, or domenarch Florin searching for her missing prized assassin. Never in a thousand years did he expect to see Rosana, the queen of Harlaheim.

  White flowing gowns trailing behind her in a stinking burned prison, the regal accrutements of fine nobility and perfume let the hidden swordsman know for certain who was inspecting the domicile. He thought to kill her, for she must be aware of the White Spider to even be near this secret section of the underground. Alec knew that even the king did not know of this area under his own inherited castle. The swordsman watched her inspect the cells from his shadow enshrouded vantage. She appeared to be looking for someone and her breathing was fast and nervous. Alec thought better of the murder, thinking to himself that there was no rational way that many guards or knights were not far behind her. Perhaps even Kalzarius was close by the looks of the damage that must have been arcane in nature. Florin would know what to do, and Alec Silverblade would find her. He slipped into the shadows, out the stairwells that led to the upper dungeons.

  Florin felt she was not alone, but saw and heard nothing. She cared nothing for the gown that drug through the dirt and ash of the underchamber and she even smiled as she thought that the cost of the garment would feed a family for years. She looked over the mass of rocks and the scarred walls of her domain. The domenarch of the White Spider of the City of Harlaheim crept up to the cave-in, looked past the side to see if anyone was approaching. She saw nothing, yet there was a glimpse of white in her peripheral vision that caught her eye. Florin, madame, lady knight, seneschal, and now queen, pulled the torch close to the rocks and what appeared to be a skeletal hand. There was no flesh, no meat or muscle, just a gold band with arcane designs around a finger and the skeletal remains of a hand, attached to an arm, buried under the rocks. “Yari.”

  Florin’s mind raced, then she quickly patted her shoulder as the long hair of Rosana tied into her own began to burn from being too close to the dancing flames of her torch. “Damn long hair! Uhh!” the stink of burned hair nearly covered up the awful stench of melted metal and rust that could barely avert the reek of mildew in the prison she was so accustomed to. Her mind back on track, the imposter queen thought of only one person powerful enough to kill Yari and destroy the very stones of the castle in such a manner.

  “Where are you Kalzarius? Are you still here?” Florin raced back the way she came after a moment of uncomfortable silence. She knew the siege had to remain now, and that the old wizard surely had the queen. She had little time, just days, to get into that tower before the Crossguard legion arrived across the border. Thoughts of fleeing to Caberra crossed her mind, as did returning empty handed to Johnas in Valhirst. Neither satisfied her need for safety and silence, so Florin vowed to herself to get Rosana and take care of it herself.

  Saberrak II:I

  Bradswellen Castle, Saint Erinsburg

  The rag was wiped crimson with the blood of human men of Harlheim. Saberrak kept cleaning his face and horns, hours now in deep thought and silence outside the castle gates. The gray minotaur watched as the bodies from the battle were still being carried from the field in the morning light. He had not slept at all, had stayed up all night, alone outside cleaning himself over and over. Azenairk had come to speak with him and prayed by his side, yet Saberrak had no one to pray to with the dwarven priest. Gwenne and James had tried to talk to him before they turned in for the evening, but the gray simply smiled at them and kept to himself. His thoughts went from the battle to come here in this beautiful city, to the men he had killed to free it, to how he had wanted to kill so many more in his rage. Since his freedom from Unlinn, he had realized that most other beings were not as savage as himself and did not rely on the brute strength, bloodthirsting anger, or intimidating displays of combat that he used. The horned warrior felt nothing for the enemy, human or otherwise. Just the manner that he defeated them in seemed different than the rest of the surface world.

  The warmth of the morning sun brought a breeze and heat that Saberrak had not yet felt in his time here, for once, it was not cold and uncomfortable. His scale armor was hot to the touch after a few hours of basking in thought, hot enough to com
e off. Pulling clips and loosening straps, the minotaur took his steel scale protections off, piece by piece. Taking another rag, this one still fairly clean and wet, he cleaned the inside of the armor and his chest and arms. A strange noise pulled him from his menial task, another new sound in this strange world his father had told him of so much as a child. Gong, gong, gong! The noise repeated over and over like some great metal dome being attacked. Saberrak felt the tingling blue of his eyes and saw the color change, he knew that whatever had happened to him from that scroll of Annar was happening again. He jumped to his feet, grabbed his greataxe from the grass, and turned toward the city from where the noise seemed to be originating.

  His surprise was evident by the raising of his weapon, the illuminating blue flames flickering harmlessly on his face from the tattood eyes, as he was face to face with Shinayne. For a moment he was angry, for no reason save that someone had crept up behind him and he had not noticed. “What are you doing here, elf? I could have cut you in two.” he snorted as his muscles relaxed the axe. Saberrak noticed that she was wearing a gray cloak now and dark clothing over her fine mesh of chain armor. Still beautiful, as far as elves went he thought, and still more graceful than anything he had ever seen.

  “I doubt it horned one, I am a little quicker than you, remember? Anyway, I came to get you.” Shinayne sat down the same time as her friend who still had trails of blue light fading from his dark brown eyes.

  “And my arm is the size of your waist, woman, remember?” he huffed playfully and tried to eek out a smile as he spoke.

  “It is time for the funeral Saberrak. Lord Cristoff has asked that you be there in the cathedral L’Avia Sangrit in the city, to be there out of respect.” Shinayne looked to the bent and dull shamshir that lay in the grass still, then picked it up.