“So we break into Devonmir, free Saberrak, escape, and then turn west to find Zen’s lost mines?” James stated with a resolute sarcasm in his voice.
“Exactly.” her eyes met the gaze of her friends straight on with a seriousness and determination that could not be argued or swayed. Nods of affirmation came from Zen and Gwenneth who held her aquamarine stare, and they knew the elf had no intention of failing, she was in fact quite intimidating at this moment.
“Very well, he saved me, so I will be returning the favor.” James nodded and looked north.
“To Devonmir then.” Zen stated, receiving the nod from Gwenneth and James as he looked to Shinayne.
“Follow me, and try to keep pace.” she turned back to the north, hands on her enchanted blades, eyeing the trail that would lead to Saberrak.
Shinayne T’sarrin felt her heart beat harder with every step she took toward Devonmir. Her eyes would not lose the trail and her focus would not be distracted. She had her only friends with her here and now, and her largest friend was locked up and being sold to God knows who to do God knows what against his will, in the foulest of places. She blocked out the thought of what could be happening to him as she led them onward. She knew precisely what and with how mighty a degree of devotion Saberrak the gray would risk to save his only friends on the surface world. As Siril, God of the elves, had taught his children since they were born; love and friendship are the bonds upon which true serenity and peace are held strong, and they are the lifeblood of the elven race. Shinayne knew in her heart that she would do anything for Saberrak, and must do everything to save a friend until her last dying breath. Lavress Tilaniun will have to wait, she thought. Such was the love and passion of the elves that made them, and her, the greatest ally anyone could hope to have. Although he would never speak it aloud, Shinayne knew that Saberrak would not disagree with anything she was planning to do, no matter how insane it may sound. The moonlit night calmed her as she tracked her horned ally, and his captors, without a drop of fear in her heart.
About the author
Jason R Jones was born September 1975 and grew up in Monroe, Wisconsin. He is an honorable veteran of the United States Marine Corps, a saber fencing enthusiast, and a loving father to his sons, Alexander and Adonis. His flare for short stories, poetry, drama, and fantasy has existed since he can remember. Jason is the oldest of four siblings; Jeremy, Anya, and Cody and he has resided in Southwest, Florida for over a decade. Interests in fine dining, music, meditation, ancient history, movies, world religion, and mythology keep him very busy and inspired. He plans to bring out many tales of his own life hidden deep within his fantasy sagas. The novel, “of dragons and crowns”, is the second installment of eighteen in the Exodus sagas, followed soon by “of ghosts and mountains”.
Graphic Design by Robert Martinez
Artwork by Jenna T. Lefevre
Special thanks to
My friends and fellow authors for all of their support, Blanca Jones, Robert Ford, Patrick Hanney, of course, as always, my family, the Gods of espresso, and my sons Alexander and Adonis receive the highest thanks that words cannot begin to describe.
Epilogue
Devonmir, Underground Slave Market
The crowd roared and howled in all their hidden nobility that the masks and robes concealed. Tens of thousands stood as the blood covered brown minotaur, Chalas Kalaza of Unlinn, threw the seventh and last armored gladiator to the spiked black marble pillar, where he stuck. Coins exchanged favorably and unfavorably, drinks were raised, slavemasters frowned, and the three enshadowed ruling lords of Devonmir clapped in their enchanted seats of arcane power over the arena. Men mixed with demon, wizards of arcane infamy, and they loved this new warrior. It had been four days of bloodshed since the lords of the demonic city of arenas had been bribed to let the savage brown minotaur of the White Spider compete as an unowned gladiator.
Kaya stared at his blood covered glory in the arena below. She had hoped he would have been killed by now, before his fame grew strong, and she prayed for it nightly. The deadly agent from Chazzrynn turned her head away from the tossing of parts and pieces to the crowd of assembled wealth by the victor, her partner here in Devonmir, Chalas Kalaza the brown minotaur. She walked toward the ruling Domenarch, Rinicus three Blades, through the slave cages and merchant areas that he oversaw.
“Seems your killer just won’t die, will he?” Rinicus, hand still bound from Chalas tearing off two of his fingers, was almost as determined to see this beast meet a foul end as the woman in front of him was.
“Did you arrange it yet?” Kaya, known as Jade of the West of the Emerald Eight to him, was desperate and it showed even with a mask to hide her features.
“Why such a rush? With him over you, no one would dare harm you. It is total freedom, while anyone who you choose could be slain by his greatsword in a moment and you would likely be praised for it. As long as he keeps winning, and you stay in Devonmir, you are untouchable. Who would want to end that?” Rinicus avoided the question with sarcasm, watched his slaves and those of other rival owners rush out to clean the arena floor, walls, and pillars from the blood and gore and prepare for another show.
“You bet on him, didn’t you? You disgust me.” Kaya T’vellon knew betrayal when she saw it, she was a master herself at lies and treachery.
“With his record, you bet your blades I did. And you want me to arrange for him to die in the arena, again? Then how much do I lose in the future? Anyway, I checked. The men that own the two-headed ogre do not believe any one person is worthy of a challenge. They want Chalas and at least another champion or two to honor the undefeated beast. Ajastaphian Arena has its traditions and heroes, the nobility to amuse, and Mafahann of Bloodskull won over thirty battles here, some record. Either they fear him, or they are merely raising the stakes.” Rinicus nodded to Kaya, a nod that looked like a stretching of his neck due to discomfort, as he signaled her that Chalas approached.
“Another victory for the brave and savage Chalas of Unlinn, makes six now?” Rinicus played nice, even giving a slight bow to his lesser as far as the White Spider was concerned.
“Seven, Rinicus three fingers, seven. I want Mafahann’s heads next. Why do they delay? Are they that afraid of me now?” Chalas, covered in the blood of his victims in the arena, laughed as he sheathed his sword without cleaning it. He looked over his breastplate, his spikes, felt his curved horns, and smiled wickedly as he picked an eyeball off of his shoulderguard and flung it at Kaya.
The lady assassin had no words, the harassment and vile disrespect worsened every day. Threats, disgusting bloodshed, raping and killing women at night for sport, she had reached a critical limit of her sanity with this horrid creature that Johnas had sent with her. Now, she feared, his reputation had grown too much for her to simply slit his throat in the night and frame someone for it. The realization that Rinicus had lost the battle of revenge over greed made her feel helpless even more. All alone, with great status, but little power with the shadow of Chalas Kalaza, undefeated gladiator in two arenas, killer of many, and most feared warrior in Devonmir hanging over her like a burial shroud. She walked the market and slave quarter, hopefully not followed by her supposed pet minotaur.
Kaya paced past men, lions, rabid wolves, and even women for sale in cages. Slavers called out the prices of their latest stock as agents of guilds and nobles handed pouches of coin blade over fist in the dirty dealings under Devonmir. Powders, illicit drug trade, weapons and items of enchanted nature, forbidden tomes, and stolen anything from anywhere covered the sides of the arenas when there was not blood spilling to occupy the eyes or floors. Kaya felt, for no reason she could identify, a tear welling in her right eye. Her heart trembled and she felt weak, not physically, but emotionally. She had seen too much, dealt too much death, and crossed a line inside of her that wanted it all to end. She felt her shortblade grip and thought of putting it through herself right then and there. Taking a deep breath, she forced those weak-willed
thoughts out and concentrated on how she would rid the world of the beast that she knew was trailing her through the market now. She needed a plan and allies.
Veering left, then right, quickening her pace, the once lady of Southwind Keep noticed something odd in one of the cages. She slowed in curiousity and saw a man dressed in the crown and rose symbol of Harlaheim, many men in fact. Despite its reputation for blood at any cost, Devonmir surely would not push as far as to enslave soldiers of its own country. Kaya walked further, trying to figure why these men were here being sold and who would dare sell them so casually. Then she saw a faint blue glow from the cage next to the Harlian men. Distracted, she came closer.
“Saberrak? Saberrak the gray from Chazzrynn?” she saw the tattoos under his eyes that mirrored his horns, saw the scars of the gray skinned minotaur that she recalled from her abandoned home in the south. Besides the faint blue glow to his eyes, Kaya was certain it was him indeed. He was speaking to himself, then the blue flashed as he noticed her peering at him.
“Do I know you woman?” the minotaur kept his hand on his axe, glared into the slate blue eyes above the masked woman in black from behind his bars.
“Oh lord, how did you come to this place, you need to leave, now!” she whispered fast, knowing Chalas could not be far behind her.
“Any assistance would be appreciated, and obviously needed. Who are you? I know your voice woman.” Saberrak, still groggy from the poison, recognized something familiar about the female that spoke to him. He rose to his feet so fast that ten people jumped back fearing he would break out from the impact. He shook in his cage, rammed his body and horns against the bars, and roared. Not at the woman, but at the awestruck and terrifying gaze of Chalas Kalaza directly behind her.
“I do not believe my eyes. It cannot be. Saberrak the gray of Unlinn. Delivered here to me, and found by this whore of the White Spider. Thank you Kaya. Tell Rinicus I have the other champion they need to face the two-headed ogre, arrange it now.” Chalas walked up close to the bars.
“Arrange it yourself, filth.” Kaya backed away from the gaze between the minotaurs.
“We have not spoken since you tried to kill me by caving in those stairs in Arouland, little gray one.”
“Shame you do not rot there still. I will have your horns at my feet Kalaza, wait and see!” Saberrak smashed his face up close to his nemesis on the other side of his cage.
“We will see tonight, Saberrak the once again slave. After you and I kill Mafahann of Bloodskull, our fight begins. Your blood will cover those walls!” Chalas drew his chipped and scarred greatsword and tapped it along the bars that held his mortal enemy. His black eyes swirled with evil and malcontent at the gray gladiator, trying to get past the overpowering blue glow he received in return. “I have waited for this for years.”
His rage spoke more than his mind could control, his vision blurring blue. “Only a fool waits to be killed in front of thousands, brown one! You dared not face the grays of Unlinn, and you have one here before you now!”
“I see a dead warrior waiting to lose a horn!”
“You have not the strength to pull it from me, you slit throats to gain freedom, lesser cousin!”
“I fought my way out, slave! Where are your little friends now to save you?!”
“I would put coin that the Shinayne could kill you herself if she were here, bastard!”
A voice from the cage to his right meandered softly, yet with undeniable purpose to be heard. “This will not help you, or anyone else. Control yourself.”
“I will find them when I am done with you, do not worry for that. I will bring them your head!” Chalas snarled, unaware of anything but Saberrak before him.
Saberrak turned to the bearded man alone in the cage, then back to Chalas Kalaza. His mind raced for a second, then he turned to look again to see the chained man he knew was Annar. When his vision turned back, the cage was empty. He paused, wondering where the God that had given him the scroll had gone, he had so many questions.
“Your horn will be my drinking flagon, slave!” Chalas’ voice brought the tension and attention back to the moment.
“We shall see, God will decide.” he retorted calmly.
Face to face, with only steel between them, the two undefeated minotaurs of Unlinn both stared and waited in hateful anticipation for the chance to kill the other. Too ingrained in the moment, neither one of them noticed that Kaya T’Vellon had left without a word, into the shadows of Devonmir.
Table of Contents
Title
Dedication
Forward
Prologue
Introduction
Chapter1
Chapter2
Chapter3
Chapter4
Chapter5
Chapter6
Chapter7
Chapter8
Chapter9
Chapter10
Chapter11
Chapter12
Chapter13
Chapter14
Chapter15
Chapter16
Chapter17
Chapter18
Chapter19
Chapter20
Chapter21
Chapter22
Chapter23
Chapter24
Chapter25
Chapter26
Chapter27
Chapter28
Chapter29
Chapter30
Chapter31
Chapter32
Chapter33
Chapter34
Chapter35
Chapter36
Chapter37
Chapter38
Chapter39
Chapter40
Chapter41
Chapter42
Chapter43
Author
Gratitude
Epilogue
The Exodus Sagas: Book II - Of Dragons And Crowns Page 51