by Jason Jones
Drop the bow and move fast.
Thinking and moving at the same time, sliding the rock slope he went as planned, curved dagger in one hand ready to throw, and enchanted falcata blade from the Hedim Anah in the other. The falcata was still new to Lavress, only having it a few decades of his over two centuries of life. It had elven engravings of his secret organization and the hilt of several golden wolves chasing each other. The blade was weighted perfectly for either heavy blows or small quick strikes and it was lighter than his dagger despite being three times as long. His quick trek down the slope of loose rock ended in a full stride sprint onto the plateau above the Vateric Ocean, known as the Endless Ocean since none had ever seen land sailing westward, ever. The cliffs held a drop of over a hundred feet, into yet more jagged outcroppings of rock. His steps were covered by thunderous waves that echoed perfectly as the other high elven guard turned to see Lavress already upon him.
The mercenary of Eliah drew his curved elven longblade, typical of trained soldiers from Kilikala, and instantly cringed as the enchanted curved kukri dagger landed into his left shoulder. Lavress feinted a high killing attack, drawing a parry up from his staggered opponent, then turned his wrist down punching the hilt and his fist into the nose of his enemy. Another blow, then another, his jaguar hide boot planted on the forearm of his target, pinning his blade helplessly to the stone plateau.
“How many more?” He whispered in elven to the mercenary, blood trickling into the pointed ear of his foe as he spoke.
“Fifty---” the highborn spat blood into the hunter's face. “Savage filth.”
“Has Eliah opened the portal?” his knee now on the chest of his enemy, falcata at the throat.
“Long gone hunter, he opened it yesterday. Ah Gaadrai filth, your tribe is more animal than elf. Let me up, now.”
Lavress paused, his blade to the noble’s throat, and he thought quickly. Had there been fifty, he would be dead or this one would be yelling for help. Had Eliah Shendrynn been gone or succeeded, he would not be posting watch of the passage. He had answered all the questions Lavress needed without even knowing it.
The rest will be useless insults stemming from pride and lies.
“By order of the Hedim Anah, may your stray alliance be set right with Seirena in death,” he whispered and he cut the guard's throat down near the spine, silently praying to the mistress of the groves for forgiveness. Choking stopped quickly and Lavress closed the misguided elf’s eyes, removed his kukri dagger, and stalked into the cavernous entrance.
The shadows hid him well, ominous darkness with a ceiling held up by pillars of at least fifty feet in height. The wood elf, clad in green stripes of warpaint, brown leaf tattoos of his kills on his face and neck, moved like a shadow and made less sound. Seeing torchlight ahead, strange statues of winged men to each side, dark countenances cast upon their faces, he entered the decorated entrance. Lavress wondered what sort of forgotten temple this actually was.
Gimmorians, old gods of the green moon, gods without names.
The hunter climbed up, above an alcove hundreds of yards into the forgotten temple. He heard the voice of his prey, heard incantations in an elven dialect barely recognizable as his kinsman's native tongue. His target was here, Eliah Shendrynn stood over a pool of green glowing water in a chamber fit to hold giants, maybe dozens of giants, or a small army. Yet all alone, four golden books open on a stone pedestal, the highborn elf chanted, levitating inches from the rock floor. The voice was almost hypnotic in sound, echoing through the cavern. Mystical lights were swirling in the glowing water, the tomes releasing luminous dusts and rays of green and red, adding to the enchanting cacophony of sound already captivating the hunter.
Lavress readied his throw, his enchanted kukri that rarely missed, and whipped it end over end at the renegade wizard. Piercing his red and gold trimmed robes, glancing off something, something only the arcane could have provided, the dagger whisked through his long blond hair and clanged to the stone behind him. The rattle of the blade settling on the floor from the wall held both elves staring at one another from over two hundred feet apart. Lavress moved first, sprinting along the wall at Eliah.
“Tilaniun?” the elf queried aloud to the elf that stalked him now.
“Shendrynn.” Lavress replied with a nod as he ran, blade in hand.
“They send only one?! I am insulted!” A wave of his hand sent ripples of red through the stagnant air. The ground shook as giant stalagmites ripped up through all around the hunter.
Keeping his footing, lowering his center, Lavress lunged and rolled ahead, dodging through the sharp magical spikes as they rose at him. Fast and sharp, dozens reached and exploded from the stone around him, yet none catching flesh.
“Did the Court warn you about me, or merely send you to your death?” His other hand gestured, fingers pointed together with the thumb, erupting in swirling blue orbs the size of horses. Eliah spread his fingers apart, the four orbs launching at the savage hunter with slow pulsing precision.
“You must be the one hunting down my men all this time. Your torture will be endless!” Eliah roared with an empowered voice that shook the walls of stone.
Freezing cold ice scattered as the spheres impacted, the hunter diving and jumping off the side of the wall to avoid them. His breath held, having seen this magic before, knowing the air disappeared when they exploded. Lavress slid on the icy ground yet remained upright, still closing in on his foe. Closer, the hunter of the Hedim Anah felt his skin burn with cold as he ran.
“You serve a cause that has outlived its purpose, savage.” The rogue wizard put his fingers together, wrists out, aiming his palms at Lavress and chanting.
“Hevam Modriande Hevroon!”
Light of the clearest mystical radiance flashed in front of Lavress Tilaniun, slowing him, then stopping him as he hit something solid. The face of Eliah Shendrynn hovered before him, an apparition of it, larger and glowing silver. It moved when Lavress moved, pushing him back, stopped his dive under the obstacle, and would not let him pass closer. Lavress cut at it with his deadly falcata, hitting as if the magical ghost had flesh. The cut did nothing but earn laughter from his foe hiding well behind his arcane shield. Quick to think and quicker yet to act, the hunter plunged the blade into the eye of the summoned duplicate face, climbing up rapidly, plunging his sword into a higher spot each time. The apparition rose, yet not fast enough, and Lavress reached the top of the magical replica. He replaced his blade on the back of its head, sliding down the other side, just before the ghastly face would have crushed him into sharp stalactites above. He landed upon his feet with a slight crouch, stood and pointed his blade.
“You are to surrender those texts and yourself by order of the Hedim Anah, Eliah Shendrynn.” Lavress began to sprint again, aiming toward the books on the stone podium that was still glowing.
“You are a determined assassin, aren’t you?” Eliah drew a wand of twisted green metal from his belt, aiming it at Lavress.
“Nanveander!” he spoke, a glowing red and sparkling blade appearing in front of him, floating in midair.
Lavress closed, running up the steps leading to the raised center with the pool and his prize. He ducked the animated blade directed by Eliah, and parried the second swing with his falcata, feeling the strength of an ogre behind the arcane attacks. Sparks splintered from the force of the blows, but Lavress was faster and rapidly attacking the summoned weapon, yet each blocked strike knocked him back. He was tiring, he felt it in his arms, changing from right to left and back again with his defense.
“Die already, foolish follower of the fey court!” Eliah’s temper was starting to emerge at the silent stare of his pursuer.
“Fegrull!” he shouted, two fingers pointed out, his other hand still directing the sword with the metal wand.
Small sidewinding swirls of flame shot from his fingertips at moonlight speed. Lavress ducked and rolled under the red magical blade that danced and thrust at him from above, just in time. The balls of
flame slammed into the rock face, whistling heat as they passed, exploding the stone into shrapnel of razor hot splinters. Charging, taking a glancing cut in the shoulder from the floating red sword, Lavress dove at the podium, colliding his shoulder into the stone and knocking three of the tomes sliding across the floor away from the wizard.
Eliah grabbed the remaining glowing book of high elven magic, raised his hand, palm out, at the hunter. Wind and dust swirled around him, forming a cloud of tremendous power. The winds blew Lavress back, yet he was almost within striking distance with his enchanted falcata. He struggled to his feet, turning his body sideways and inching through the storm of air that pushed him backward, his deep brown and topaz eyes squinting to keep eyes on his target. Slowly, through deafening howls in the cavern, Lavress pulled his body forward, getting closer to the wizard’s outstretched palm. He saw the red blade moving through the wind and tried to ready his sword to strike, any moment, ready to cut the renegade elf’s hand off. Then the floor turned liquid and shone purple ahead of him, deep and rich swirling, almost swallowing the green stone that had been there moments earlier. The floor began to melt, Eliah smiled, and the wind howled to deafening heights in the cavern.
Lavress looked at his target, still inches from his weapon’s reach. Eliah closed his eyes, his mouth saying something, yet the wind covered the words with its symphony. His eyes reopened, and the rogue highborn elf fell, fell straight into the water that was once stone floor, tome in hand. Lavress lunged to take his head, but too late, there was nothing there.
“Damn it!”
Lavress could not reach him in time and felt the arcane magic dissipate rapidly. The wind stopped like it had never been, the spikes shrunk back into the earth leaving no trail of their existence. The blade sparkled brightly, fading slowly from reality, and the visage of Eliah Shendrynn he had summoned merely sank into the ground. Lavress landed his lunge on the pool, yet nothing but solid stone lay under his feet, the water was gone like it never was.
The hunter squinted, remembering how long the last ten months had been. All was silent, all was still. Breathing for the first time in a minute, the hunter inhaled deeply, taking in the cold air. Darker now, with only scattered torchlight remaining from the magical winds, the hunter of the Hedim Anah picked up the three texts and his kukri dagger from the stone floor. Lavress sheathed his blade and walked back out to the plateau, knowing he had not a chance to locate the renegade wizard now. He removed his arrows from the mercenary’s corpse, scattering the crows that had begun to investigate. Lavress picked up his bow from the base of the ledge he had slid down.
He sat at the edge of the plateau, overlooking the Vateric, admiring the deep drop below his feet. Lavress meditated, a long overdue rest of mind and body. He had failed, his first uncompleted mission, although three books were better than none, he thought. Now Eliah Shendrynn could be anywhere, having learned to use ancient magicks to open lost portals for himself. Who his allegiance was, if any, still remained a mystery. Who else was involved, in this and other crimes, Lavress and the Hedim Anah were still unsure.
His treacheries date back over a century, not mentioning his rumored contacts with the Ah Shalai of Shalokahn. This news will not please great Mirash or the Fey Court. Yet, perhaps they can find him with other means, and I can finish it, bring the fourth book to Kilikala, in honor.
His thoughts complete for now, the hunter rested his emotions and spirit, concentrating on the beauty of the place, the beauty that Seirena had created with the rest of the world so long ago. Lavress felt his mind wander, yet connect to all nature around him, telling him it was time to rest. The cold faded, the light and air became part of his breathing, and the hunter felt one with all around him.
His rest was full of thoughts and feeling, places near and far, shadowy and mist filled images. Some were close by, most clearly the sense of a creature of the forest in pain. Lavress felt a satyr, saw its fear and desperation, yet he could not see the source of wickedness. There was conflict, almost as if someone else were watching the area from afar, concealing it.
It was not his trailing lover, Shinayne T’Sarrin of Kilikala. That feeling no amount of arcane subterfuge could mask had it been her in great pain. No, Lavress felt her near, perhaps four or five days north at most, but heading away and not alone. The hunter knew she was capable of handling herself in almost any situation. He knew that he had to give peace to her torn heart and his, and appreciate her feelings of love for following him all this way. She could not understand why he had to go alone, was ordered to, and with the Hedim Anah orders always had reason beyond the sight of those carrying them out and must be honored. Lavress was not even allowed to tell anyone of his missions, a vow he had broken with his noble lover Shinayne many times already. His secrets, and that of his order, had to come first. This matter with Kilikala and Eliah Shendrynn was too close to Shinayne, and Lavress knew she could not be involved.
Lavress Tilaniun focused more on his breathing, centering his lithe elven form. He gazed at the clouds moving above the waves of the dark blue Vateric, and listened for more from the east. He felt Shinayne again, easily sensing her heading south and east, moving quickly. The other masked being had also moved east, yet had stopped and Lavress shuddered.
“It cannot be, not here so far from Stillwood. How?” Lavress spoke aloud as his body reacted with a shiver.
His mind saw black veins, images of twisting vines and a thorn of black, and the gleaming green eyes in shadow.
On his feet in less than a second and heading north through the cliffs of the deep south of Chazzrynn, Lavress felt the satyr in hopeless torment and agony. He placed his hand on the earth, felt fear in the satyr's heart, fear of an elf that was hurting him. Lavress moved faster, having rested only a few hours, not sure what elf would torture a fey being of the forest. Only one possibility came to mind.
“Nadderi.”
The word came as a feeling, then the word escaped his lips, and he was determined to put it to an end. Like a shadow outrunning the first rays of morning light, the hunter followed the sense of pain he was now attuned to. Into rocky forest, the Deep South, where not even native Agarians travelled, he ran east toward the Chazzrynn wilds. For Lavress Tilaniun of the Hedim Anah, lady Shinayne would have to wait a bit longer.
Exodus I:II
South Chazzrynn Wilderness
Venison it was, black horned deer meat, and some willow roots cooked on the wooden spit that James had made. Shinayne had the only waterskin, so she had made several trips to a fresh stream for the cold water and had collected the wood and set the fire with some elven oil and flint. James had dressed the animal and only made a few mistakes with his shaking hands. The hillock was barren on the south side, leaving half a cave for cover and warmth from the wind, and enough for a constant fire. Icicles dripped as pine smells wandered into their camp with the occasional passing bird or squirrel that became curious.
“Next time Saberrak, let me dress it before you carry it back that far, you might not be so tired if it were lightened and carried by two,” James chuckled, looking over at the exhausted minotaur who had just carried a two hundred pound deer at least four miles over his shoulders through deep snow and hills.
“Save the lecture, I am starving.”
The knight brought over a wooden stick, on which the first piece of meat had cooked through, and offered it to the horned warrior respectfully. The three of them ate, warming by the fire and smelling like cooked meat, refreshing themselves after nearly two days of starving. Saberrak, while eating twice as much as James and twice that again of the elf, could not stop gazing at the sky decorated with such wonders. Sustenance had done its work and the minotaur laid back down and let his eyes drift toward rest. Eating and silence, the watchful eyes of the three minded their surroundings, not knowing if their pursuers were near or no. James cooked more meat on the bones, overly so and to the point of a dry char. Then he sliced it thin, cooked it to a curl some more. He wrapped it in the s
kinned hide that he had also smoked a bit, and passed them out.
“Should last us a few days. The rest is for the wolves, a bit of a waste, but a necessary one.”
The morning sun had just risen, yet James had been up for hours already. The deer had occupied some time, but not enough. His mind needed a drink, just a taste of wine, and it would not let him rest. He was barely able to control his hands. He had been through this before, more than once, stranded with an injured leg from an ogre hunt near Addisonia on the eastern side of Chazzrynn was the longest. He remembered going six days without wine then, and he knew that it would only get worse. He was prepared for the nightmares to come, the insomnia, the sweats, and all the other painful bodily experiences that would arrive over the next few days till they reached civilization. James had managed to keep down most of the food, vomiting only a little, hidden away from the others. The angers and frustrations of the past, present, and anything his mind could argue with itself over, were coming fast and his thoughts raced to more thoughts of how it would all be pleasurably drowned away soon, with the cure in the bottle.
Shinayne sat, legs crossed, facing the west. She could feel Lavress near. How close he was she had not the intuitions in this cold place. He was alive and his heart was beating steadily this morning. A smile penetrated her meditation, realizing the telltale rhythm of her lover. The highborn felt pain in the distance as well, Bedesh, not sure if it was a physical pain or emotional. The elf tried to concentrate more on her captured friend. She strained, yet could only tell movement there as well, feeling his heart heading away and something interfering from a distance. She knew that sensing those she loved, those she knew, and the rhythm of the creatures of Seirena and Siril took centuries to perfect. Feeling her own struggles of priority, devotion, and situation, the elf dismissed the swirling urges to act rashly one way or the other. Her heart told her to find her lover and reunite in his arms. Her guilt spoke to her, ordering her to charge in and rescue the satyr, and her mind calmly reminded her to follow the friends with her now, that all would unravel as it should with patience. Siril placed those in need with what they needed at the time. Shinayne knew this all too well.