Richmond, half drunk already, drew his sword with a childish smile. He pointed it behind his head toward the north and let the blade tip stab an innocent and ancient tapestry behind the throne. “I hereby order the charge, my queen.” his laughter rolled like the tears from his eyes as he nearly fell forward from his seat.
“You are pathetic, Rosana was right. I go to kill your enemies once more, before they ally with the legion from the church. Try not to wreck what we have acheieved in the few days I am gone Richmond.” Florin marched out of the throneroom, deciding whether to charge in or cash out and run.
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Shinayne stepped up in the stirrup of her painted stallion, followed by Gwenneth, James, and Azenairk doing the same. The elven noble looked down to Saberrak and nodded, then to Norrice who was waiting ahead with an escort of ten mounted soldiers. The newly appointed capitan of the personal guard to Lord Bradswellen bowed from his steed to all five of those about to embark on their journey to the west. The elven swordswoman noticed his nervousness at leading the escort to the free city of Bailey in Willborne. The elf surmised it was more to do with what would be happening in Saint Erinsburg when he returned than the actual few days of mounted travel back and forth with Shinayne and her friends.
Norrice turned his horse to the west, as did his men, keeping the pace slow until the travelers had their moment alone and chose to join them. James Andellis turned to the castle, hoping that Cristoff would come riding out of the gates to join them, to find the lost city and the fabled mines. The sun was high in the afternoon sky and the clouds spread slowly over Saint Erinsburg as the knight of Chazzrynn procrastinated. All was silent for uncounted moments until Saberrak huffed and began walking west toward the escorts. Zen and Gwenneth followed on horseback. Just then, Cristoff walked out onto the battlements high on his castle walls. James drew his broadsword the same instant the the lord drew his blade, each saluting high then bringing the edge close to their faces and sheathing them together. No words were exchanged in the distance between them, none were needed.
“Come on James, your bravery and honor are needed with us. Cristoff will cross your path again, I can feel it. Let us go.” Shinayne patted James on the shoulder and turned her steed to trail the others. She kept a slow trot until she heard the whinny of the steed behind her that let her know her friend was not far behind.
The five companions caught up to their Harlian escort, Saberrak the gray was the only one on foot, which he much preferred and had little choice in since there was not a beast big enough to carry him. Gwenneth and Zen rode ahead with Norrice and the ten soldiers of Saint Erinsburg while James stayed in the rear alone. The elven noblewoman cast her gaze down to the jogging minotaur, her aquamarine eyes squinting with difficulty on her horse. Saberrak squinted back, confused, with his dark eyes behind the shadowy horn tattoos across his face.
“Problems, elf?” he huffed his steady breaths in and out as his steel scale armor jingled and chinked with every heavy step.
“I do not like horses. This is why I run alongside you or ahead most often, horses are most unstable beasts. How armies of men ride these things, I will never know.” Shinayne struggled to get comfortable on the stallion from Lord Cristoff. Given the emotional moments and his great generosity, Shinayne had decided not to be rude and decline the magnificent animal, and give the large creature a try once more.
“You should try riding one of those brahma things I rode in Chazzrynn. Much worse, more hair, slow, and dumb. I was relieved when it ran off in the night.” Saberrak chuckled as the horse ridden by his elven friend fought against her keeping it next to the minotaur.
“I paid good coin for that thing in Southwind Keep you realize. Had you kept in til Vallakazz, we could have gotten plenty for it.”
“You’re rich anyway, Shinayne. What’s a few coins here and there for a bit of trial and error?”
“Well the purse is running low, low for me anyway. What I wouldn’t give to have a trained griffon from Kilikala here and now to ride.” Lady T’Sarrin clenched her legs in the saddle, hoping the horse would realize her discomfort and steady its pace for her.
“A griffon? What is that?” the gray gladiator grabbed the reins from the elf and kept the steed on course with him. He had had enough of being bumped into and having his feet almost tripped by swerving hooves and elven steering.
“Griffons, the most graceful steed one could hope for. As large as a horse, just not as tall and wobbly. The head of a hawk with a curved beak, body and tail feline in nature, and a majestic wingspan of white feathers sometimes trimmed or dyed with blues and purples.”
“You ride them on the ground or in the air?”
“The air, usually two elves in a double saddle in times of war. One archer in the rear facing away, and the lancer in the front keeping formation. I was a captain in the Griffon Wing of Kilikala and led an army of three hundred avian cavalry. Griffons are also far more loyal and protective when trained right. These, horses, are just inferior in comparison.” Shinayne was gazing at the cloudy skies, recalling her years in the airwing, then a sudden jolt of her angry stallion brought her back to the moment.
Saberrak smiled through his rough and intimidating visage. “Someday, if this place truly exists to the west, perhaps you will have some of your own.”
“It exists, I have heard stories in my youth about Mooncrest and the elven forests south of those mountains. Tintasarn was supposedly a place of great peace and solitude for the Agarian elves, before the inquisition of Altestan that divided them and led to their downfall.” Shinayne thought of how her elders would sit and talk of what could be done to restore the great elven cities that had been lost. She was young, over a century ago, but her mind recalled how great sadness prevailed at those noble meetings of the different elven races.
“So, it exists then. Fine. So what do we do when we get there?”
The elven noble thought from her uncomfortable pace on the horse that the minotaur led for her. “I am not sure Saberrak. I think we will know when we get there. I am more worried about James at the moment.”
The gray gladiator said nothing, lowered his horns, and quickened the pace of he and the steed. He let out a grunt of displeasure and exertion as he ran with the small band on horseback.
Shinayne acclimated herself to the saddle over the next few hills, and retrieved the reins from her horned companion. Her senses began to expand over the horizons, mostly due to the repetitious and rhythmic beat of hooves. She was surprised at herself for being at such a peaceful center of being while on the back of such an awkward beast. The elven noble could not feel Lavress, wherever he had journeyed to had overstretched her connection to her beloved savage hunter. But Shinayne could feel the conflict in James, a sadness mixed with guilt and honor. He was remaining quiet as he stewed and stormed inside over religion, God, and his purpose in life, and on this very road west. His thoughts of wine and battle came quick and strong, only to be dismissed with his willful banishing and struggle. She breathed in deep and tried to relax and send that calm aura to the knight of Chazzrynn. She had not ever done it before, but many older elves of Kilikala could calm others with deep focused meditation. Not wanting to see his inner pain torment him any longer, she tried, not knowing if it would work or not.
While the rolling hills and marshland farmsteads passed by, Shinayne remained wide eyed yet elsewhere in spirit. Great animosity to the south, an army perhaps was approaching to where they had left; she could sense wickedness and malice in far off thoughts of some in a cluster of confused emotions. Still smaller and waiting to the west were more urges and sensations of danger, auras that the others had no way to feel or sense. Disrupted at times by the flashing angers of the minotaur, the overwhelming peace and serenity of Azenairk, and the nervousness of the human men that escorted them, Shinayne’s elven perceptions sensed nothing at all from Gwenneth. She tried harder, closing her focus on her female wizard friend, still nothing, not even a flicker of
emotion. Shinayne now stared at the woman that rode ahead of her in the formation, and her breath stopped for a brief moment. The white wood staff topped with the emerald was glowing faintly, as if it were watching Shinayne from its resting place across the saddle. It was protecting its owner, without her knowledge, and seemed aware of the elf’s ability to sense things and read emotions.
The elven swordswoman rode closer to Gwenneth, struggling with her steed to direct it ahead. “Gwenne, may I ask you something?”
“Of course Shinayne, what is the trouble?” Gwenne sensed a serious query coming, for the elf rarely asked to ask a question.
“Does that staff that Ansharr gave you speak to you at all?” Shinayne T’Sarrin watched the wizard’s weapon from her peripheral vision to see if it showed any sign of knowing it was being discussed.
“No, why would you think such a thing?” Gwenne spoke true, yet felt afraid that Shinayne had perceived the impulses of power and desire that the staff of Imoch had been sending her shortly after she had seen it. It was not a language per se, yet it had been trying to assist her and show its powers without Gwenne studying ways to unravel them. The wizard knew that there was a semblance of conscience to the item in question, and now she knew that Shinayne knew of it as well.
“No reason, just a feeling. It is most likely nothing, but, be careful please.” the elven noble watched the staff strapped behind the wizard, and as she stared the small shimmer of light faded then flashed for an instant. Shinayne nodded to the staff, without anyone knowing, in response to the arcane wink she had just received. “I have heard some of the ancient relics of old arcane masters have a tendency to develop strange quirks when abandoned for many centuries. I am sure you will thoroughly study all the dimensions and such of the gift you carry, right?”
“Of course Shinayne, you seem concerned. Is there something I should know?” Gwenne bluffed like a true lady of nobility, without a second thought of it.
“No, no Gwenneth. Do not be concerned, I trust your judgement and capabilities, just an odd feeling. It is likely nothing.” Shinayne, too, was accustomed to court and hiding one’s intentions. The horses slowed as the light fall of rain showered the company heading west. The elf looked ahead, seeing the torrential downpour they were heading toward, she decided to wait til another time to talk more about the staff.
“Capitan Norrice.” Shinayne called ahead as the troupe slowed pace and gathered to discuss making camp.
“Yes Lady T’Sarrin?”
“Watch the west, I sense something waiting ahead. I can not tell who or what, but there is a group of beings on our road with intentions less than pure.” she pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head as the rainfall strengthened.
“Of course, my lady. Can you sense things like that often? Can all elves do that?” Norrice seemed worried, nervous, and did not care for the rain at all.
“Yes, and no. Not all elves practice that sort of meditation and attunement to the things around them. But I can tell you have another question, and the answer is also, yes.”
“What was my question, how did you…?”
“Is the army of Harlaheim marching on Saint Erinsburg? It was all over your spirit, and yes, I sensed a large group of beings to the south heading north. How many, I cannot tell numbers, only that their intentions are not peaceful or serene.” Shinayne lowered her head, knowing what would come next, knowing this young man acted with his fears and emotions more than common sense and reason.
“We have to leave, if we leave now we can help with the preparations. Or, in the morning perhaps.” Norrice thought only of his lord and the city he was raised in. He did not want to return to a smoldering graveyard when he could have been there to warn and prevent it.
“You must do what you feel is right, capitan.” Shinayne bowed her head as the horses and riders kept in line on the muddy road west.
Norrice looked to the men and the companions of the elven noblewoman he was sworn to protect and escort into Willborne. He took a few deep breaths and recalled his oath to Cristoff. “We will see you to the Harlaheim border as ordered, but out of concern for my home, may we hurry?”
“Of course capitan Norrice, you set the pace.” Shineyne felt relieved that his word was stronger than his fear and rashness of mind.
The dark clouds continued their barrage of rain throughout the remainder of the day as the company pushed on across country. No moonlight from either moon shone as dark day faded to darker night without notice. The smell of freshwater wind over the moist marshland farms gave away that Lake Devon was close by. Four lanterns and a glowing staff held by Gwenne gave sufficient light for the men to lead on into the storming late of night. The restless horses, fearful soldiers, and battering thunderstorms finally broke the desire of any to carry on further. The capitan raised his hand to halt, and without as much as a word or an order, the men began to dismount and set tents near a grove of banyan trees above a rushing stream.
Saberrak walked up to Shinayne with a load of tents and poles across his wide shoulders. “What do you sense elf? Will they see us to the bordertown or leave back to Cristoff?”
The highborne elf looked to the nervous men as they whispered amongst themselves and set camp. “They will follow Cristoff’s orders, yes, but nothing more I feel. Their home is about to be at war, and not an army of mere occupation. What would you do if you were them?”
“You know what I would do, heh! I do not follow orders, nor do I care to let anyone feel threatened unless I am the one giving the threats.” the minotaur huffed and snorted as he walked toward the encampment.
“Then we should be grateful as they go against their instincts to see us safely west.” Shinayne dismounted her horse, and tethered it to a nearby branch. Keeping one eye on the capitan, and one on Gwenne’s staff, she started to help set up the camp.
Lavress II:IV
South of Roricdale, Deep South, Chazzrynn
The snow was soft and wet, disappearing in spots to warn of the coming spring season. With no trail to follow, the wood elf hunter knew his choices were few, and the territory more than dangerous. Lavress had bandaged his wounds from the harpy arrows well and he noticed the blood was barely seeping through the torn brown cloth from his cloak. He had thought of heading north, close to the ruins of Arouland, yet the ogre menace there could prove trying with his injury and exhaustion. West would take him into the endless Vateric Ocean, south into the tribal Deep South where no foreigner was safe, leaving the only option for survival in his state being, to travel east to Roricdale. From there, Lavress knew that he could find rest and food then head northeast across the rural center of Chazzrynn to the Temple of the Whitemoon. He knew that elves in general were not seen often in Chazzrynn, the cold weather and distance from elven cities ensured that he was a rarity here.
It would be four or five days after Roricdale to the Temple of the Whitemoon that was now guarded by Princess Lanaru-Fin and her priests. Lavress Tilaniun stopped behind a tree, a thawing oak he noted, and listened with his keen elven ears for sounds of his pursuer. Birds of early spring had begun sending melodies to one another, the flit of squirrels and tree moles, but of Eliah Shendrynn he heard nothing. The elven hunter thought of Eliah, the highborne traitor and formidable wizard of Kilikala. He tried to concentrate on sensing him, near or far, just something to give him a sense of how far behind his enemy truly was and if he had followed throught the ancient portal yet. He had tracked Eliah here across the Agarian continent not long ago. The Gimmorian temple they had fought in was a day behind, and Lavress assumed that the rogue elven thief of the books of high elven magick could track him in ways that were only known to those that practice the arts of the arcane. For that reason, the tattood savage of Gualidura had to keep his pace quick. He knew that he was in no condition to face Eliah, and that he would be coming for the fourth book. For whatever reason the noble elf had turned against his people, Lavress knew not. All he knew is that his life meant nothing in comparison to the ancient
tome in his pack, at least to the wizard who now surely hunted him.
Lavress thought of Shinayne as his steps dodged through melted snow patches in the pine forest. His noble beloved was certainly alive, for he could feel her hearbeat very faint in his quiet mind. She was far away though, to the north and traveling with some unrest in her spirit. He wished that his path had crossed hers, that his mission from the Hedim Anah had not been so urgent leaving no time for explanation, or that she had simply waited for him in Kilikala. No, his lovely young companion had more stubborn veins in her heart than any elf he had ever been acquainted. Highborne nobility matched with prowess of the sword and a heart full of desire; it had been many months since he had seen Shinayne T’Sarrin and it would be many more he feared. Lavress Tilaniun of Gualidura snapped his eyes back to full focus as his booted foot slid into a rather fresh smudge of snow and mud. He stopped, wiping the thoughts of her away quickly and looked down at his path through the trees of southern Chazzrynn.
“Ogre.” Lavress knelt down to inspect the wide sprawling sets of tracks, hundreds or more. He could tell by the size of the foot and length of stride between steps that a large organized mass of ogre had recently traveled this very way, from west to east heading the same direction. Odd, he thought, ogre do not travel in numbers like this, ever. Even in Bloodskull, the largest ogre city, the tribes and clans rarely unite in anything of great size or travel far from home. But the hunter was certain of his survey and absolute in his resolution that an army of ogre were ahead of him, perhaps half a day and heading to Roricdale.
He thought of the invaluable book in his pack, then of the threat that lay before him, a threat to the people of Chazzrynn. Lavress followed the tracks and quickened his pace, keeping his vision moving all around in case of stragglers or scouts.
The Exodus Sagas: Book II - Of Dragons And Crowns Page 40