“And he is here, in league with this Salah Cam who commands the armies of trolls and ogre to the west?”
“He is, and Salah Cam is allied with your Prince of Valhirst I am afraid. Your kingdom is likely in grave danger, yet your Lord does not see it past his angry and troubled mind, past some wall in his heart reinforced by his sister, Kaya.”
“I am aware. I was the one that reported her to the church, conducted the investigations and divined her allegiances, foul as they were. There is a struggle, a struggle of words, intentions, and trust mind you, between house T’vellon and house Mederris now. Alexei is his father’s son, no doubt, brave and bold, a lordly knight and leader like no other, just like Arlinne was. Yet his emotions plague him, the need for control and battle calls him. No wife, only women. No room for vulnerability or for weakness. Only his twin sister could pull his strings, and even that he hated and despised at times. We here have dealt with it for many years, and now with her gone, it is truly worse.”
“Hence you being here to speak with me.”
“Hence you being so formally imprisoned by Lord T’vellon!”
Both laughed sincerely, smiling as they could, understanding one another in the early morning hours. Marcus stood to leave, turning toward Lavress.
“Where will you go now?” Lavress queried.
“To speak to the other families, tell them what you have shared, and try and see you released against the will and word of the Lord of Southwind.”
“Where is your Lord then?”
“He left east, with half our best knights, half our forces between here and Elcram, and most of the saved supplies. He went to save the king of course. What else would a T’Vellon do but charge in sword raised high, into certain peril for God and country?” Marcus shook his head, put his hand to his golden feathered cross about his neck, and said a silent prayer to Alden for their safety. “He is not a bad man, mind you, yet he is young and troubled, have faith.”
“And you are prepared here, for war, should it come before he returns with your king?”
“Hells no! We sent riders to Hurne, Roricdale, and Vallakazz an hour after he left on his glorious charge! I pray that if there is nothing left to the north and south, that at least our friends at the Lazlette Semanarium can reach us in time.” Father Mederris laughed, a stressed distraction at best, he knew it did not fool Lavress here.
“He is foolish to abandon you all here, half forces against the unknown that is surely coming for this fortress and city.”
“That may be, but his heart is in the right position, always is. He is a lion of a warrior, and fearless as they come here in the south. Be sure of that.”
“His sister Kaya, I sensed she has the same heart, albeit deep inside. The same heroism runs in her spirit, I could faintly see it from afar.” Lavress bowed, hand to chin, lips, then brow as a sign of goodwill to the human priest of another God.
“There is where we disagree, my tattooed and feather wearing friend. With the former Lady of Southwind, there is but treachery and evil. I have seen it left in her wake, the destroyed lives her shadow left behind, and the corruption she fosters is nothing akin to heroism.” Tension creased his brow, forcing the wrinkles of old age to appear stronger at the thoughts of what he spoke.
“It is never too late, as long as there is a seed and fresh air, a tree may grow where there was once nothing to see.” Lavress bowed again, rested back down, and hoped that something good would arise from this conversation, before the enemy was at the doors. The hunter closed his eyes, trying to have faith in humans, where his many years had told him not to. Perhaps this one, just this one, may have something that so many others do not.
“A very old, philosophical, and wise sentiment, surely of elven origin, my friend. But, you do not know Kaya T’Vellon. Enough of this now, I go to my peers. Hope they listen half as well as you and I.”
“I pray to Seirena and the Whitemoon that they do. For your sake, mine, and all of Southwind and Elcram. Well met, Marcus Mederris.”
“Well met indeed, Lavress Tilaniun.”
Marcus Mederris, Chancellor of Southwind and priest of Alden, closed the iron barred door behind him. He breathed heavy, coughing up the stairs, hoping another Lord had not made the mistake he was convinced that this elf was sure of. He wanted to set him free now, gain his assistance if he were correct. Unfortunately, proving he was indeed correct was the farthest thing the priest wished upon his people, for it would mean war with the ogre once again.
“Guards!”
The men of Southwind moved in behind, closing and locking the passages of the eastern tower behind him.
Exodus III:III
Undercity Tunnels of Devonmir
“Okay, allright, right here, hurry! He is leavin’ a blood trail a mile long. Gettin’ too heavy you are my horned friend. We haven’t much time, set down still.” Azenairk knelt as Saberrak thumped his rear down in the tunnel. Only the pale green light from Gwenneth’s staff gave life to the darkness here, yet the dwarf could feel where the blood was coming from off of his friend. He began to pray and hold his hand to what felt like the bloody seeping skull of Saberrak. He had never seen the minotaur this weak and he had not spoken in some time.
James reached his hand to the right arm, feeling the trickle of blood and swelling from each side with so many puncture wounds from the spikes. He closed his eyes, hand glowing blue, thinking only of healing his friends’ wounds, shutting out thoughts of Alden and the woman’s voice from Soujan Mountain.
Saberrak flickered an eye, then the other, both now glowing a faint blue as his friends prayed and worked their divine miracles on each side of him in the darkness. He looked in the gloom, Shinayne was here, crying as she looked helplessly down at him. Gwenneth kept looking to the rear of the tunnel, glanced at him and nodded, then went back to her watch. Kaya T’Vellon kept an eye to the front, dressed all in black, mask up over her nose and hair falling out of whatever had held it back previously. She looked down at him as well, then to the golden glow from Zen’s hand, and the blue from James’ hand, then back to Saberrak’s hazy blue eyed gaze.
“What are they doing? How is James doing that?” Kaya whispered to Shinayne. She saw the bloodflow stop, heavy black and red scabs form over wounds, and black bruising begin and then fade away to green.
“Zen is a priest of Vundren, and James is simply blessed by the Gods so it would seem. I have no answer for it, save that mercy and grace have been given to our horned friend here when it was needed most. It is not the first time.” Shinayne wiped her eyes, listened, and felt the coming of more men from every direction.
“I hope mercy and grace get us out of this city in one piece, ask them for me would you?” Gwenne shot back, just as James collapsed against the wall.
“I have no more, weakness coming, sorry Saberrak. I will pass out if I continue.” James struggled to his feet, back against the stone wall.
“Mercy and grace are for the weak.” Saberrak huffed his first words in quite some time.
“Mercy and grace are what keep me from tearing you apart myself, Saberrak the gray. Do not ever, ever, leave on the back of a dying dragon again, not without us right there with you. Do you hear me, horned one?” Shinayne put her arms around the now standing minotaur, her dearest beast and friend, amazed and thankful he was still alive.
“Let me guess, you are the one who organized this rescue?”
“Of course, who else?”
“Charge in headfirst, cut your way through, grab the bull by the horns strategy? I assume she was difficult to deal with lately.” Saberrak huffed toward James, Zen, and Gwenneth, who returned nods and wide eyed affirmations with smirks and grins to match his own. His vision still like blue clouds, his body refreshing and healing rapidly, Saberrak was feeling his strength return faster than he could imagine. He hugged his elven friend in return, lifted up his axe, looked for the other and remembered it was in the arena.
“Oh, oh, almost forgot this. Here, you will l
ikely be needin’ this. I lifted it from the dragons pile o’ stolen loot back in Bailey, orders of Shinayne here. It looks nice, don’t weigh much, and it’s just yer’ size I think, my horned friend. Good to have you back with us.” Zen handed the double bladed greataxe with the sapphires and old runic designs decorating the blades and shaft.
Saberrak took it, nodded to his elven and dwarven companions. It was light, strong, and felt good in his left hand. “I smell ogre, men, and something that rots with sweetness or sugar. We had better move.”
“Chalas will track us here, as will the rest of the White Spider, we need to change direction and lose them.” Kaya moved ahead, Shinayne beside her, the rest in tow.
“The brown minotaur in the arena with Saberrak, or the two headed thing lying down? Either way, they are both dead.” Gwenne looked to her left and right, then behind, then back forward.
“No, after your lightning hit him, I looked for the body.” Kaya replied.
“And?” Saberrak had concern in his voice.
“Nowhere. I found a piece of horn, some blood, scorch marks, but no Chalas Kalaza.”
“Ssshhhh. Something moves ahead.” Shinayne put her back to the wall, blades out slowly.
I can hear you, I am here with you
You will not escape my city
Run all you want
I see your thoughts, heading west, but you will not survive me
“It’s him, the Lord of Devonmir, well one of them. He is still in my head, whispering to me.”
They all froze, in the shadows of the darkest tunnels, watching one figure fumble in the black ahead, intrigued by their light. Then five, then dozens rounded the corner toward them, silent as a mob could be. “Saberrak?”
“Capitan Norrice?” Saberrak stepped out into the tunnel toward the Harlian man he was imprisoned with.
“You are alive! We are but thirty left, but we found you, thank Alden!”
“Ssshhh!”
“Right, right, ssshhhh!” Norrice pointed his finger over his lips back to the twenty nine behind him as they approached.
“You made it out, I told you that you would.” Saberrak patted him on the shoulder.
“Barely, if not for your friends here setting us free, especially James, Shinayne, and Kaya who must have killed three dozen ogre and soldiers saving our skins. Then, insanely, they kicked open the door and charged the arena for you. I have never seen such bravery!”
“Elven strategy?” Saberrak huffed at Shinayne.
“Worked, didn’t it?” She grinned back.
“Allright, strength in numbers they say, but keep quiet. We take the lead.” Kaya glared at each one of them, letting them know she was serious and time for celebration was nowhere near at hand.
“Any warriors here, Saberrak?” James looked over the motley and starved faces of the recently imprisoned.
“Doubtful, watch your coins and purses. But, they did make it this far, they deserve our help.”
“Agreed. Now, let’s get outta this shithole, shall we?” Zen stomped ahead behind the ladies. “Vundren forgive my cursin’ tongue.”
Hissing echoes seemed to strike in the shadows, twice, three times, like a quiet force. Three men dropped in the rear of the company. Lifeless, weapons fell from limp arms, three quick slumps and it was done. Two more hisses, and two more prisoners fell to the ground as if something had simply vanished their life away in a painless blink. Everyone scattered, men yelled, and crossbow fire filled the cavernous tunnels. Twisting and shouting in pain, seven more men fell dead. The White Spider assassins, leading a band of ogre guards, Devonmir soldiers, and a floating figure all marched from behind.
“They led them right to us! Damn it! Run, this way!” Kaya yelled over the men, heading toward the stairs north at the end of the passage, barely in view from Gwenneth’s light.
“Do we trust her?” Saberrak talked serious and quiet to James and Shinayne.
“For now, yes.” James nodded.
“She agreed to get us in and get us out, I say follow her.” Shinayne replied in agreement.
“Move men, move!” Saberrak roared over the men, charging behind Kaya, everyone followed.
Through dimly lit corridors, up twisting stairs, under fire from behind, the fugitive company charged blindly north and up, trying to reach the surface of Devonmir. Caverns gave to manmade passages in full, arcane light danced between occasional turns and crossroads. Sealed sewer grates gave no reprieve, nor did barred doors leading off the main tunnels, like rats in a maze, they ran, following the person in front of them.
“Saberrak!” the voice from behind echoed with a bestial roar.
“I know that voice.” Saberrak listened. He heard the faint grating of a steel blade along stone. It brought him back to Unlinn, to escaping Arouland, to just an hour past in Ajastaphan. His blood boiled, he thought to turn and face Chalas, then the gentle push from Gwenneth snapped him back into moving forward again.
“Do not even think it, gray one. Keep moving.” Gwenne would not care to see whatever obviously had a hand in killing the two headed giant, nearly killed Saberrak, and lived through two of her most deadly spells. She wanted out as much as anyone else.
The tunnel opened into a larger room, an old warehouse underground, rotted crates galore. The room was massive, the light did not extend even to a wall on any side, and barely the ceiling. Suddenly it did, torches lit magically, instantly, dozen along all four walls, two sets of stairs up on the far north wall. Before that, two robed figures hovered with twenty armed guards in front of them, all ready, all a trap. Kaya backed behind the wall to the tunnel, and looked to the rest, shaking her head.
“A trap, they have us caught in the middle. I did my best, I am sorry.” Kaya sighed, checking her shortblade and raising her mask high.
The commotion from behind assured them that the hunters from the rear were still there, and there was nowhere to run but either back, or into this room with two Lords of Devonmir waiting. Saberrak looked at his friends, then to his axes. “No way out?”
“Two, both north, both leading up. Two Lords in there, Chalas and one behind us. Outnumbered either way.”
“Suggestions?” Saberrak huffed.
“Charge in, elven style. I will take the one on the left with Norrice and the men. If they want me, you will know soon enough. You all head right, a moment after me. It is you they want most of all, so let me be the bait and the distraction.” Kaya smiled, though no one saw it under her mask.
“Since when did assassins find heroics like that?” Gwenneth questioned, casting a glance to her wands.
“It has felt mildly exciting being on this side for once, an honor to fight with you and all, but I would not call it heroism, Lazlette.”
“We meet outside the city, to the north. If not, do you—“ Saberrak was cut off.
“Yes, I know where you are heading, gray one. They all do, so do not fail to continually disappoint the White Spider by surviving. Do it for me, and we call it even.”
“Agreed.” Saberrak growled, having second thoughts about this plan.
“If I make it out, I will find you to the west, in the mythical lands of Kaki-stone or something insanely far away. For now, make sure edge meets flesh, and Gwenneth, hit them hard with whatever you have up your sleeve.” Kaya nodded to Saberrak and his friends, something tingly welling in her throat, she could not place it. She felt it again as Shinayne met her eyes, that aquamarine glare that saw right through her mask. “Stop that look, elf, or I might change my mind.”
“Well fought Kaya T’vellon, and thank you.” Shinayne bowed.
“That does it.” Kaya turned her head away and looked over to the men, all whispering that they were trapped. “Norrice and company, we lead this time, follow me!”
Saberrak, Shinayne, James, Zen, and Gwenneth all shoved their backs to the passage wall, making room for all the remaining sixteen men to rush past them.
“Saberrak!” The roar of Chalas Kalaza came again from be
hind.
I feel your fear
I see your eyes
Shinayne T’Sarrin
I am here, you protect the dwarf and his heirlooms, I see
Shinayne nodded to all present, fear and worry on her face. The demon calling her name, and she knew his on her lips, Trehad. She calmed herself from the voice in her mind, nodded again, receiving silent nods from her friends. Just as the sound of crossbow fire, blades clashing, and men falling had finished the first echo, as bootsteps hit the stairs behind them in pursuit, they charged in.
Blades fell to the ground from desperate men, everything moved slow as time stood still. Blood sprayed from accurate assassin swords, crossbows withered the charge of Norrice’s captives. Kaya was in the middle of too many soldiers, cutting fast from necks, to ribs, and slashing with the sharpened smallshield at the legs of enemies she tore between. One cut on her shoulder, another bolt punctured her abdomen, yet her blades never slowed. The remaining men, Norrice leading them, assailed the left staircase into twenty soldiers. The black robed lord lifted his finger, and another one of the prisoners began to stand back up in undeath, then another.
Saberrak roared, wanting to save this woman that had helped them, yet to the right he ran, both axes out wide and horns low. His steps shook the ground, yet the arrows flew, blocked by a barrier of force from Gwenneth at the last moment. It fizzled out of existence, the other black clad demon pointing his fingers and dismissing Lazlette’s defenses. The minotaur crashed through a half dozen guards, axes, horns, they screamed as he cut them down.
Shinayne followed, then James, the two side by side cutting down men of Devonmir as fast as they could blink. Azenairk followed them, finishing what men may not have been fatally wounded, and putting them to the mortal test of his warhammer, one after another. Though over fifty on twenty to start, it now looked as though the tides had turned as the seekers of Kakisteele looked toward Kaya T’Vellon.
The Exodus Sagas: Book III - Of Ghosts And Mountains Page 13