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Her heart could not remain calm as she placed on booted step in front of the other down the secret stairs to the Soujan temple. For nearly half an hour Angeline descended downward past torches and the mystical green illuminations of the Goddess that lit her way. Silence draped the journey and then she was home. Her blue eyes wet again as she gazed across the landing over the shrine she had been taken to so many years ago in desperation. A wide cavern filled her view, full of light and the three maple trees that grew without the sun. An enormous triangle of platinum inlay with the etched prayers of the mother Seirena surrounded the trees. There sat several of her fellow knights, legs crossed, swords to the side of their pious positions of meditation. The Knights Soujan listened for the word and will of the Goddess in how to protect her children.
The silence was peaceful with every breath as Angeline walked down the last few steps to the temple floor. She saw her mentor rise from his meditations and walk around the sacred symbol of the Soujan as she met him with a mutual warm embrace.
“Angeline, we have been waiting since we heard you were returning. How is your spirit?” Larens spoke with enthusiasm and an eagerness to test her that his eyes could not conceal. His blue mottled eyes from behind a thick mass of brown and gray hair had a truth and love to them that assured her of trust with a single look.
“I am at peace, Larens. And I---“ her eyes dotted down for but a moment and he stepped with his intuitions as she had expected.
“No you are not. Try again.”
“I am torn between a promise I made and my primary duty here.” Angeline eeked out some honesty since she was pressured.
“And where does the Goddess come into this conundrum?”
“Well I had thought to pray for her guida---“
“You thought, but did not yet act? So you still think you can figure things out on your own, do what you will, or slide through what the world throws at you without her wisdom and connection? Then you have not changed much at all Angeline.” his words like knives of truth into her conscience, always aimed at the dependence upon the Soujan and their revelations received from the mother of the Gods and her lost children. He said these things with a loving smile, which was odd for her since it felt like being berated for failing. She knew, however, that his intentions were divine and Goddess given.
“That is why I came here Larens. To find solace from the world, closeness to you and She, and continue to find the path she lays before me. You told me to return here at any time that I feel the struggle, and I have. The fight between promises to another and what the Soujan would feel is, at best, weighing on me.” Angeline nodded as Orahn, Sedrick, Risemeir, and Gournic all passed her by with hands to her shoulder and warm smiles of welcome. The men who were here before her from differing nations and ethnicities had all found themselves lost and defeated by something, and the remedy had been a spiritual life in service to themselves, the Goddess, and each other. Much like herself she thought.
“You came here bent on suicide for your sins. Drunk, a harlot and whore, and you could not live with what you had done. You were called, you survived the journey, and you passed through the tree of truth, did you not?” his rhetorical questions had always helped with perspective. Larens waited to see if she was paying full attention.
“Yes, you know this.”
“Just testing your memory child. Then you heard her song, admitted your wrongs, and began learning with us, from us.” Larens received the nod he was prodding for and continued. “Through the second tree of change you went and heard her voice, and her voice told you where to go and who to make amends to. She told you how to make your sacred robes from the tree and you were sent with vows that you and she discussed, and discussed with no other. Correct?”
“Yes, she told me that---“
“Ah, ah, ah. I do not need to know, all I need to know is if they are complete.” Larens did his best to keep her on track with where he was going.
“Yes, I was forgiven and kept my vows for seven years.” Angeline looked around, feeling uncomfortable at her age in being talked to like a young girl in Aldane children’s school. She felt embarrassed.
“So, in prayer and meditation you have received her will for you. Your skills with her gifts are growing, you sense direction and purpose in your spirit, and then what is left, now that you have returned?” Larens nodded to Sedrick who was motioning that it was time to feast in the dining chambers of the Soujan temple deep under the mountain. He smiled, knowing his stomach would be happy after three hours of meditation.
“I must pass into the tree of faith, the third tree of the Gods, choose a weapon from the Caricians, and meet the Goddess in the flesh. Then I will have my purpose and be able to help and guide others of tragedy to the Soujan Temple.” Angeline knew that she was not the only knight of this long lost order that was out in the world. She was part of fifteen, thirteen men and two women. One man was a dwarf from Fazurand, one elf from Shalokahn, and the rest were human from all over Agara. Most had passed through all three trees, and each told a differing tale than the next as to what they had seen and heard from Seirena.
“Correct. Is it perhaps, the will of Her that you made that promise, that you may be asked to travel in that direction for another reason? Do not doubt for a moment, that there is a bit of the Goddess in everything that happens Angeline. Yours is a divine path, like all of ours. We carry a curse and burden, yet we are here in service to the true Gods of purity, pain, and life. And we have much to do now, things have changed recently. Something has happened that She was waiting four thousand years in hope for.” Larens embraced her again, then went to walk away without filling the curiosity of his student and fellow knight.
“What change, what has happened? You must tell me.” Angeline was mortal and curious after all, and felt that these things here were the truth beyond what the outside world would say, the larger truth at least. There were no leaders here, no corruption, no elders with supposed more wisdom, just one person helping another to become a servant of the lost Gods.
Larens stopped in his march to end his hunger, turned and bowed with clasped hands. “The Goddess has given us all new will and guidance. Her voice is stronger and we are to begin searching for more to become Soujan. Not just here, but she said to find and open other temples that have been lost. This has not happened in almost four thousand years the spirits here say. She said her son, Annar, has returned to her from his imprisonment, the imprisoned set free by the free will of a slave. She is happy, and now wants us to watch over many other things as well.” Larens turned again to go and feast.
“What other things?”
“You will have to ask her yourself Angeline, tonight in prayer, together.”
Angeline knew the place was brighter, felt this temple more vibrant, but she had no idea that one of the old Gods of the white moon, Carice, had been found or released. “Was it one of us, which knight found Annar and set him free?”
“It was not one of us. The God of strength and honor, guardian of Alden in heaven, was set free by a minotaur. And he was rewarded with something far beyond a mortal gift, yet he may not know of---“
“Saberrak, the gray one, friend of Gwenneth Lazlette who heads west…and we must watch over him. And that is why I made the promise…I will be heading to the west.” her head lowered then raised at the realization that, despite her doubts and inner queries, the road ahead was indeed divinely planned and paved.
“Interesting how it all comes together is it not? Are you still concerned about where you may have to travel and why? I thought not. Rest, eat, and then we will speak to the Goddess.” Larens walked away to leave Angeline to her thoughts and epiphanies alone, well not quite alone. The Goddess and her spirits here were innumerable and always watching. This hidden place, where Seirena remained beyond the trees of the earth, was the last open temple of the Soujan. Besides a great dragon at the top and a host of spiritual knights inside, Larens knew the unseen
forces that assisted here, for they were all around them if one looked hard and true.
Angeline bowed to the trees, full of mystery, youthful curiosity, and hope for a world that had not changed even though she had. Perhaps, in the west, she could bring something good out of the turmoil that man and religion had tarnished existence with for so many millennia. Hungry as well from all her travels, Angeline Berren summoned the wind beneath her feet and glided into the feasting hall of the temple in the mountain where she had become whole, and so much more.
Kendari II:III
Bradswellen Castle Underground, Saint Erinsburg
The Nadderi swordsman tugged a bit harder on the rope, not that he felt Rosana could run after the long underground journey through secret trade routes no longer frequented, but to keep her focus on staying up and awake as they approached the place he knew would take them up into Bradswellen Castle. “I do not care to carry you up the stairs woman, so some spring in your step if you would.”
“I am tired you merciless cur, I need rest.”
“We are almost there, your royalness, so a bit of joy and effort would be appreciated.” Kendari moved close to her, letting slack in the rope and walked up the stairs beside her. “You have behaved well for two days now, let us not end this on a bad note, shall we?”
“I hope Cristoff and his men kill you upon sight, mercenary. You are no better than Florin and her ilk, you just had some luck in timing.” Rosana spit on the ground as she walked, a defiant insult from her homeland in Caberra.
“If it had not been for my timing, you would have been raped, murdered, given back to the hellhole castle to await the blades, or all of the above, girl.”
“I am not a girl, I am a woman and the rightful queen of this kingdom, filth.”
“How old are you then?” Kendari sneered as they reached the top of the steps, drawing his off hand pyramid pommeled blade.
“Well over thirty years, hardly a girl. Why are you arming yourself?” Rosana looked worried, thought to scream since it may be just on the other side of the iron door she was facing that Cristoff’s men could be posted.
“I am over six hundred years old, so that makes you just a girl. I am sensing if there are traps or arcane glyphs protecting this doorway, or something unseen on the other side, highness. My swords are more than cleaving implements you see. Now shut your mouth for a few moments, if you can.” Kendari heard the gasp of shock and insult, yet pretended not to and listened keenly for the faintest sound. He sensed with his blade, following a faint light as it searched for hidden magicks. Nothing.
Sheathing his blade, the marked elven assassin turned the rusty iron handle until he heard a slight catch, then pushed. The metal grinded on the stone floor at the top of the dark stairs, echoing in the forgotten passage behind them. Trickles of light shone into the storage room as the entrance opened to the rear of a mess of old trunks, boxes, and shelves. He walked ahead, over mismatched trade goods and directly to the wooden door ahead. Kendari listened again, hearing the words of many men outside in whatever room this now was. It had been many centuries since his mercenary days in Harlaheim, and he had trouble remembering if it was the great hall or the cathedral of the castle that this opened into. His hand reached for the door, pushed yet it did not move, obviously locked from the outside.
“Now back up a bit, dearest Rosana.” his sarcasm dripping and mind wondering how the wretch of a king tolerated her for more than a few days with all her tears and drama. If it were me, he thought, I would have sent her body back to her father in Caberra after a month, with a “No thank you” note stabbed into her chest. Kendari stepped back and positioned his boots and hips at just the right spot to kick the door in.
“There is no way we can be victorious here my lord. The army that approaches comes for you, your friends who are not here of course, and for blood. There is no talking our way out of this.” Capitan Broushelle was worried beyond his wrinkled countenance and gray curls and beard. He had fought many times for Cristoff, but even defending against this was hopeless. He received silent nods from Sir Leonard and the older Sir Karai.
“Alden sent me here for good reason, we need to trust in God. If the queen leads an army here for Richmond, perhaps it is a gesture we should consider. Why would she lead? Perhaps Richmond wants peace, or he is too afraid himself to do the act. We need to stay and find out.” Father Garrett spoke softly and with great respect from all, yet the downward glances of the gathered men before Cristoff told him he was not aware of something. He had missed the battle, the bearers of the scroll of Annar, arrived after the knights of Saint Tarumin, yet he sensed he missed more than that. “What is it?”
Cristoff raised his head and spoke. “Father Garrett, it is not the queen who leads the army, it is Florin in her guise. The queen was executed two days ago as Florin, along with Bishop Javiel. This is no diplomatic army of negotiations, but Richmond’s last bloody fists sent to silence his elders, nothing more. Much has happened, and I know you have just arrived, but perhaps we should fill you in on the things that you are unaware of.”
“Then where are the other Knights of Saint Tarumin and Sir Savanno, Sulian, and ---“
“Dead Father, dead. No one has seen nor heard from Sulian in days, and Savanno’s funeral was conducted here after Florin and Richmond had him killed.” Cristoff felt more pain for telling the well-known priest and missionary this than he felt himself at this point.
“Then we have nothing to do, no ground to stand upon? Just to wait and be slaughtered by the army that is hours away? Outnumbered four to one or more? We must find God’s purpose for His words to me were to come here and abandon all else. How can I be of service to---“
Crraaackk!!! the door to the storage room flung open and hit the wall from the force of the kick, then hung lifeless on its hinges. Blades were drawn, silence trembled in the castle throneroom, and all men here thought for certain that this was the beginning of the end, for the army must have found a shorter way inside. Cristoff stood from his forefather’s lordly throne, ready to die with his holy blade pointed at what was about to emerge. “For God and Harlaheim!”
Kendari strode with confidence into the hall and faced the men, well over a dozen all armed, pulling his trophy behind him. “I care not for God or your kingdom, however, I have here a queen that may be of value. May I?”
The shocked looks of the men, the lord of the city, and even the priest next to the knights put a smile on the Nadderi’s face that to him, was worth thousands in gold coin already. They stared at his pointed ears, the swirling black marks that he was cursed with, and the rope and woman he had in tow. None moved as he stepped in past their blades as if they were not there and approached the center of the room.
“Who are you, elf?” Cristoff looked to him, then the ragged tearing woman he had bound. He thought to order an arrest, but first she ran to the lord, allowed by her captor, and embraced him.
“Who I am is of little importance, but if you must know…Kendari of Stillwood. I found this lady about to be killed or worse in her attempt to escape Harlaheim. After ruining her persuers convictions, I felt it best she go to a safe place of her choosing. I will expect reward consummate of the prize brought, of course.” Kendari sat in one of the chairs meant for the military man that stood next to it, but he cared not.
“Rosana?” Cristoff stared into her eyes.
“Yes.” her choking response drenched in tears and sorrow barely issued.
All men took knee save for Cristoff who was holding her up in her exhaustion and Kendari who remained seated. “God save the Queen!” was yelled in unison by the other ten men in armor who had been preparing for war.
He could hardly believe under the fading bruises, dirt and smattered appearance, and chopped hair of brown curls, that this was indeed the woman he had known so many years past, loved more than anything long ago, yet it undoubtedly was his queen. Her voice, her eyes, it was the queen they had thought dead, here in his arms. Cristoff could not spea
k. His heart quickened and no words came through his throat despite the coming war and the multitude of questions he had. Time stood still.
“My lord, should we wait and hail the Crossguard Legion, present the true queen of the kingdom before the Cardinal, we could end this. All we need to do is hold out here a few days until they---“ Father Garrett was cut off.
“No.” Rosana spoke up through her tears. “The Cardinal returns to take the kingdom and declare Harlaheim a Holy State of the Church, he has signed documents to the fact. He will not stop here, he will not listen. He will march directly to the capital to usurp Richmond and his knights and lords. I know this, for I signed for it along with many others.”
Gasps and startled looks trounced the throneroom, even Cristoff held her back from his embrace in astonishment and outrage. Kendari laughed at all of it, wondering when someone would realize that he was surely not here on goodwill.
“Why? Why would you do such a thing my Queen?” Cristoff felt betrayed and his sorrow aged him at that very moment.
“There was no other way. Florin and Richmond have ties to Johnas Valhera and his criminals in Chazzrynn. They have the mercenary armies of Willborne paid off. They even ally themselves with Shalokahn elves of the Sassari family. The people suffer, the corruption is endless, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Even the bishop had his dreams of control and power, and the people suffer more and more as churches close and God is forgotten and not wanted. Savanno and I planned to leave, we had refuge in Shanador arranged by the Cardinal himself and other kings there. We were waiting for the spy of the Cardinal to kill Prince Johnas Valhera so that in the wake of confusion, we could escape. The spy, Balric D’vrelle has gone missing, and then all of this went so horribly wrong.” she placed her head on Cristoff’s armored shoulder and wept, wept for her dead husband, for the baby in her belly, and for the tragic situation that was all but hopeful.
The Exodus Sagas: Book II - Of Dragons And Crowns Page 45