The Last Pantheon: of spiders and falcons

by Jason Jones

  Thwack, thwack, fwepthwack! The windows creaked apart for the vulture, who had flapped outside of it trying to get in before it was completely open. Landing above the magical fireplace, magical yet still warm and lit, Hithins shook his feathers free from the snow. He noticed Lady Lazlette, sobbing on the sofa alone and reading the letters again.

  “What have I missed, my Lady?”

  “Nothing, Hithins, nothing. Do me one favor, no interruptions till morning please, I need to rest.” Her neck wet from crying, her mind and body overcome with stress and worry, Aelaine did not move from the sofa.

  “As you wish.”

  “Oh, and if I catch you letting Gwenneth in here again, you will be forever a snail. A small one at that.”

  “Understood, my lady.”

  The snowbird flew over the fireplace, round to the other room, and circled back with a blanket in tow. He flapped rapidly, dragging the heavy wool blanket over his mistress, as any good pet would do for his master.

  Exodus I:V

  Road to Vallakazz

  Chazzrynn

  Shinayne T’Sarrin crept away from the warmth of the campfire, away from the snoring men of Southwind, heavy breathing minotaur, and from her inebriated friend, James, who was mumbling in his sleep. Even the four horses and the brahma made too much noise for the elf and she desperately needed solace and quiet this night. This night, seventy three years ago, Shinayne remembered first kissing Lavress and she would not have her fond memories punctured with the sounds of men and beasts, nor combinations of the two.

  Twice they had fallen from the road, covered with drifts that led them off and astray. Then, the road had been blocked with fallen trees of an old ambush perhaps, but long abandoned. Taking a southern road, rural and less used, they had been led not far from Vallakazz, supposedly. However the bridge over the Garalan River was not supportive of the brahma, ice and seasons had done their work. Back north they went, onto a trade road from Hurne, and now they were close. Shinayne did not trust the journey, it was taking far too long to go what she was told was a short four or five day distance. Even when they picked up pace upon the trail, the brahma would decide to graze most stubbornly on frozen scrub. She needed peace from the frustration and travels, and so she went to find it.

  The snow barely giving way under her delicate frame, her blankets over her shoulders, she sought some distance over the first few hills. The elven noble crept to the top, viewing the distant foothills of mountains to the north, the Bori Mountains, and the moons rose over their western heights. The black, clear night sky gave way to the stars, stars that seemed much further away from grasp here in the south than in her warm tropical homeland. Trails of gray cloud passed north, vanishing out of view behind the immense range of hills and vales. She sat cross legged, then decided to lie, gazing at the stars and thinking of Lavress, alone on blankets in the cold.

  “…his hand caressed her face, gently from the pointed ear to her jaw line with the trailing backs of his fingers. She woke, deep in the meadow of her childhood, surrounded by old roots and tree cover, the frogs and night sprites singing in the moonlight. There were no secrets here, no fears of injury or harms of the flesh or the heart. Her evening gown barely a purple silk sheet to cover half her body and this savage with chiseled features stared into her aquamarine eyes, his deep topaz gaze glowing with warmth and tenderness. She touched his tan face, his leaf tattoos across the nose and down his cheeks, his signs and marks of a fierce warrior soul and a life in Gualidura. Their love was forbidden, unknown, it was secret. His hair like bronze wind tied in knots, his body muscled and marked with ink and pride at his accomplishments for his people….

  …Shinayne opened her arms, her skin lighter yet more golden fair by nature, and held him as his hand now ran teasingly through her bright gold locks of curl. Lavress was cupping the back of her head, holding her from touching the grass in a fierce embrace. He moved closer, pressing his chest on her barely covered body. Feeling the embrace of her lover, Shinayne kissed his thin lips gently with hers, leaving just the tingle of connection for but a moment. The wood elf in turn kissed her neck, playfully, slowly, almost without effort, the many golden rings through his ears brushing her cheek…

  …She felt his lips on the pulse of her neck, a pulse beating only for yet another kiss from her hunter. His hands moved under her midnight gown, and her fingers gracefully removed his leather vest, admiring the many cuts into it from battle. Again, the warmth in Kilikala getting warmer in the meadow by the moment, the hunter embraced his lover. Her soft lips pressed against his, glistening sweat only beginning to glow from their faces. Lavress placed his hand on her thigh, with a grip that held purpose and passion…”

  “My lady, are ye all right? Wake up lady, are ye dead in the cold? For Vundren's sake what are ye doin’ out here alone with ogre about? Very well then, she’s breathing, that’s a good thing. Lady, are you awake?” The dwarven priest spoke quickly to himself, fearing the elven maiden was dead in the winter, or soon to be.

  “Seen an elf once, but ye’ don’t look too dangerous---“

  The cold rushed back, colder than she remembered. Startled, the elven maiden drew her blades from under the blankets and sat up quickly. Her eyes glared at whoever was standing over her.

  “Whoa now, that’s not necessary, elf. I was checking to see if you were dead, obviously you are not. No need to cut me down here.” Azenairk Thalanaxe raised his hand up, shield up as well, and glanced down at his warhammer. “You don’t be wanting me to pull this out on you, and nor do I be wanting to, I am a man of Vundren ye see, and...”

  With unearthly speed her blades were at his neck, a curved longblade across his throat, and a matching short one with the point aimed under his black beard. Aquamarine eyes glared down half a foot, with pointed ears sprouting from golden curls, and a scowl that brought a beautiful anger to her face.

  “And I am Lady Shinayne T’Sarrin of Kilikala, dwarf, and you do not wish to challenge me, I assure you. Reaching, just the thought of reaching for that hammer, will be the last thing you know. Now, explain to me what you are doing sneaking up on me in the middle of the night, far from anywhere, while I was having a very good dream?”

  “Good? Sounded like you were moaning or something terrible milady, it did not sound pleasant to me at all. I was thinkin' you were sick or freezing to death. You are not wearing much more than nightclothes then, thought ye’ done died.”

  “Trust me, that could not be further from the truth. And who is this good stranger, saving elves from freezing in the middle of winter? Vagabond pickpocket perhaps?”

  “Azenairk Thalanaxe, last of my family line of Boraduum, and the rest is my ordeal. But don’t call me no vagabond or thief, or we will be havin' no more words.”

  “Fair enough. Explain your crossing my path, and perhaps I will remove my steel from your neck.” Her gaze bore unrelenting holes into his resilience.

  “I am heading to Vallakazz on important business to the church of Alden and with the blessings of Vundren. These humans can’t see a task complete without some help ye know, eh elf?” his slight nervousness with the proximity of her weapons was apparent and Azenairk tried to back away a step or two. She followed his steps.

  “That much is true Thalanaxe, very true.” Shinayne lowered her swords, backing up a step herself, giving a slight bow to the traveler. He gave one in return and she sheathed her blades.

  “So, what were you doing here then, praying?”

  “Dreaming,” Shinayne was a handful of inches taller than the dwarven traveler, though half his size in girth she noticed. “Meditating on something from many years ago, in silence from my companions.” She pointed toward the glimmer of campfire over the snowdrifts.

  “Ahh, I see, I do the same when Vundren has challenged me with difficulty and obstacles. The quiet communion with one's thoughts and spirit usually allows us to hear God's answers more clearly. Not to change the subject of spiritual matters, but the ground is a bit too treache
rous at night to be traveling with horses off road, don’t ye think? Hard to see and all, they tend to break ankles and such,” Azenairk stated, looking over the elven woman’s shoulder.

  “We aren’t traveling at night, and we are following the road to Vallakazz, though myself and Saberrak would have little trouble. No, with three humans, the travel must remain...”

  “My lady, my lady, pardon, but then why are those two men taking all your steeds westward and off the road?” The priest of Vundren pointed his stubby finger to the knights of Southwind, the two escorts now escorting the animals back the way they had come, very silently.

  “Two-faced thieves!” Shinayne whispered under her breath. “One moment master Thalanaxe, I will return shortly.”

  The elf tip-toed as she ran, gracefully and quietly in the dark. Blades were out once more, held low and out far to either side, trying to minimize any glare from the moons that may alert her unsuspecting escorts. Shinayne snuck behind the brahma, which pulled the rear of the herd, the two men’s white tabards barely visible with the moonlight and the snow covered ground, yet she could tell they were walking quickly and not even talking to one another.

  Azenairk followed, keeping his distance, and trying to time his crunching steps in steel plate armor and greaves to the step of the brahma. His warhammer out, shield held high, he too kept pace with the caravan led by the less than honorable men.

  Shinayne moved out past the left side of the horses, way out off the trail to a small grove of trees and frozen brush. She ran through the little wooded area, getting ahead of the group heading west. Continuing, she was planning to strike from the front between the two men, the one on the left first.

  They stopped, turned to look right hearing the loud crunch of metal into stone. Azenairk looked up, his shinplate just having kicked into a rock on the side of the trail. The two men drew broadswords and squinted in the dark of night at whatever manner of man made the noise so close to their position.

  “Evening men, heading west I see?” Zen stated nonchalantly. “Mind if I tag along then?”

  “Our travels are none of your business mountain dwarf, now head off unless you be in the mood for crossed blades!” The man whispered loudly, both pointing their swords at him, each with threatening looks and scowls.

  “I wouldn’t be, no sir, but she is.” Azenairk smiled, seeing the elf standing a foot in front of the distracted men. His smile dropped and as quickly as he could manage, the dwarf ran up the slope to the trail to assist his dreaming beauty.

  Her longblade cut across the flat of the young knight’s broadsword, center and hard, knocking the weapon into the snow. Her off hand shortblade struck out, knuckles first, into the jaw of the man on her right, then back again with the pommel into the side of his head. He swung the blade up toward her flank and her longblade chopped down, stopping it a foot or more from her chest. Shinayne spun around full circle, the left hand punching the youth in the jaw again, followed with a swooping upward kick from the ground that sent this man's blade out off the trail, spinning in the moonlit night. The knight staggered, and went to punch the elf when her boot lodged into his groin, putting him silently into the snow on his side, gasping for air.

  “Saberrak!! James!! Wake up and get over here!”

  The first man of Southwind Keep crawled near the horses for his broadsword, spotting it, he crawled faster. His neck planted into the snow from a boot, face turned aside with great force, yet he tried to stand. The thud of the head of a maul sized hammer dropped inches in front of his nose, catching his complete attention. The knight stared with one eye at the dwarf above him.

  “Where ye goin now son? I think you had better just stay put, horse thief. Vundren forgives ya, but I think that elf there is still a bit angry.” Azenairk held the man in place with his boot, hearing men running from the campfire to the elf’s call.

  Shinayne saw the minotaur’s outline appear, his shadow boldly striding toward her on the white background of snow, then slowing his pace. James’ shadow as well, moving along the ground in stark contrast to the snow and glow of the white moon, Carice. The swordswoman noticed the dwarf had the other traitorous man under control of his boot and felt a comfort of accomplishment and security wash over her. The tip of the curved blade near the traitor's chest, Shinayne stared down past the triangle crosspiece and leather wrapped hilt, beaming into the man’s eyes. She noticed the fear, a slight tremble, not quite meeting her gaze.

  “And who put you up to abandoning us in the night? Lady Kaya, I presume? I think an interrogation is in order tonight, do you---”

  “Shinayne.” James’ voice, calm but concerned, as if he did not approve of her questioning the man at blade point this moment.

  “Or was it Lord T’Vellon? Speak, you trembling thief!”

  “Shinayne.” Saberrak this time, as much a growl or an order in his voice, almost demanding. For some reason, he too whispered.

  “Will you two get over here? Get the animals or something. I will get the answers, just do...”

  “My Lady, Shinayne.” Azenairk whispered, there was a quivering in his voice as well.

  “What is it, why are you all standing there like I have just killed him or something?” Frustration in her voice, the elf was confused as to why the men all had stopped. Their weapons were drawn and yet they were staring in the dark light of the moon, unmoving.

  Her senses keen, all was quiet save the breathing, and then she heard it. Heavy breathing behind her, deep and slow it was, with a guttural echo from a large chest. She felt it too. Hot breath close to her, warming her body for a moment and the smell of something not familiar, not one of the steeds she had hoped had gotten behind her without her noticing.

  Whatever it was, the men all stared well above her, at least another elf higher in the air. The noble could feel it now, a heartbeat, slow and strong, a drum through the air, and beating faster with every growling breath. She smelled urine, not from behind, but from the captive on the frozen ground at her feet, he had pissed himself as he trembled, gazing at whatever was behind her. Shinayne looked into his eyes, seeing glowing green eyes, white and black stripes, long fangs and short tusks. The creature was topped with spiraled horns that lay back over the head of a feline beast.

  “Shinayne, just slowly come, do not walk toward the brahma, toward us, slowly. Great white horned panthers eat brahmas, not elves. Are you listening?” James’ voice was barely calm, he had never seen one this big, the shoulder must be nearly ten feet, the body and tail three times that, and its long yellow incisors nearly as long as the elf who was now gently walking with her back turned to the creature.

  “I am listening.” Shinayne breathed deep, step by slow step.

  “Good, just listen and don’t show any fear.” James hushed, frozen still like the rest of them.

  “Telling me that there is something behind me that eats brahmas, certainly, why would I be afraid?” Shinayne wanted to run, turn, and draw steel. Her left hand started to tremble.

  The huge feline predator crept closer to the brahma, quietly for its size, on all four clawed feet and sniffed the air, its black nostrils moving it and out. Then the knight on the ground began to shake. The great panther lowered its horned head inches from the unarmed human, its eyes staring at the shivering morsel. Shinayne kept moving, slowly placing her steps inside one another, turning herself as she stepped to see what had crept up so silently behind her in the night.

  “If it wanted to kill us, it would have already. This beast wants the horses. I say let it have them and let’s back away to camp and see if it follows.” James’ voice was steady now, the elf beside them. He had heard of great horned panthers tearing caravans apart, killing everyone. Those tales would not be spoken, not now anyway. He hoped that this one would be satisfied without them.

  The dwarven priest crept back slowly as well, one foot behind the other, letting his captive breath once again. He felt guilty for leaving him near his thieving companion, still eye to eye with the
giant feline. Azenairk did not notice the other man he stood next to, nor the seven and a half foot minotaur to his left. All eyes were on the white and black striped snowcat of enormous proportion.

  “No, no, no, not a good idea.” The dwarf watched as the man he had stepped on moved for his sword, and then scrambled quickly to straddle his steed. In the blink of an eye, the great paw, black claws emerging from the long white hair, swiped the horse down. It tore through the leg of the traitorous Knight of Southwind, then a second paw crushed the horse, gripping and retracting over and over into it as it pounced, pinning its meal to the bloody snow.

  The horses whinnied, the brahma roared, and the men screamed the hallowed fearful yells of men about to meet death. Every loose animal ran in a different direction, not a rein in hand, and the giant predator bit into the steed to silence them all, biting playfully with great blade-like canines that hung well below its jaw. The human that had wet himself screamed again, and then he was silenced by the teeth of the striped monster as they closed upon him next. His companion ran, scrambling at the same time as his partner was devoured nearly whole, fleeing west in the night following two of the horses and leaving a trail of blood from his leg.

  The great horned panther pounced from one animal to the next, even swiping the brahma to the ground, jumping from meal to meal, coveting every moving thing as its own. The snapping of bones, the ground shaking with great leaps and bounds, and the growls of an immense predator happened quickly as it staked its claim on the herd of beasts in its territory. Its eyes glanced at the four still creatures unmoving.

  “This is not good.” James slowly drew his sword as they continued backing away.

  Saberrak lowered his horns, seeing the beast turn its side to him, spotting the easy flank and ribs of the cat. He raised his greataxe and drew the bone blade from his side as he charged. The gray minotaur was sure this cat would not let any of them live if things kept this way, and he had no intention of being a meal.