“I see ten sets o’ glowing eyes ahead, coming this way. Ye’ not thinkin’ o’ fightin again, are ye’?” He started to back up slowly, the awe of the scene drew his focus and sense away, captivating his mind with the glowing eyes so far off.
“No, we need to get to the others. Why do you ask?” Shinayne was pondering how they would ever get past such a force, even with their friends.
“I ask ye’ to make sure ye’ still have some sense. If ye’ had said yes, me hammer would have to knock ye’ out and I would be carryin’ ye back is all.” Zen shook his head free of whatever was trying to keep his attention on the orange lights. Half mile and closing, the stomping was louder, he heard the clanging of steel like an echoing mine in the dark.
“Get rid of your light, time to move.” Shinayne blinked, long and slow, also realizing the glow was compounding with the whispers, seemingly inciting her curiosity.
“Aye, let’s go then. Vulthdre!” He waved his shield over his hammer, the world grew darker, and the unholy orange flares grew closer.
Blasphemers must pay…
Shinayne and Zen turned and ran back toward the ridge, in the dark of night, thousands of soldiers from the grave behind them. Aching, wet, bleeding and tired, they ran toward the ridge of the Temple Way. Into the lowlands, through the bare forests, then up they climbed into rocky sandstone cliffs. Neither stopped to look, neither of them spoke, only ran as fast as their legs and breath would allow.
Green light from a cavern entrance shone like a beacon of salvation to the weary daredevils. Stumbling with exhaustion, Shinayne and Zen shook Saberrak and James as they came close to Gwenneth, who merely looked up over her tome. She raised and eyebrow to them as they roused everyone with heaving breaths.
“Second thoughts?” Gwenne smiled.
“Aye, and then some! Ye’ wouldn’t believe what is out there! Anyways, no time, need to…get..ready! They’re comin’!” He huffed, grabbing for his armor, tossing through his things in frantic fashion.
“Azenairk…” Shinayne whispered toward him.
“What is going on now?” Saberrak stood, reached for his axes, then stretched and huffed.
“Thousands…thousands o’ the dead…heading this way! Get ready!” Zen had his breastplate on and was working on strapping his greaves into place.
“By Alden, did you two go out alone?” James crawled over to his chainmail armor and blade, scrambling, trying to get armed as quick as he could.
“How far?” Gwenneth snapped her fingers, the staff of Imoch whipped from the wall into her grasp, the book floated onto her bedroll and blankets.
“Zen…” Shinayne whispered once more.
“Bout’ a mile behind us at most, we killed a few hundred. Shinayne, ye’ tell em’ then. Tell em’ we found Mooncrest!” Armguards next, belts tightening, he spun around to find where he had dropped his shield and hammer.
Gwenneth stopped at the edge of the cavern and turned back to the dwarven priest with a questioning glance. “Zen, you and Shinayne left about three minutes ago. How…?”
“Zen, my wounds are gone.” Shinayne whispered louder, still amazed as she looked to where her injuries from the ghastly blades should have been, where they definitely were. There were none to be seen.
“Well I be bleedin’ outta both shoulders, me ear, look, look at me face then!” Zen hefted the heavy blacksteel weapon and stood next to Gwenneth.
James and Saberrak walked slowly to their dwarven friend, looking in the light given by the staff, there was not a mark on him nor one drop of blood.
“You don’t have a scratch, dwarf.” Saberrak flared his nostrils.
“Aye? Look here…then…my…” His face went white, not a cut, and he knew there were at least eight that should be there. He recalled the cold blades, the warm blood running on his cool skin, the rain, the dead, he was confused.
“We were gone for hours…fought hundreds…saw …thousand more… something…I do not like this place.” Shinayne T’Sarrin breathed deep to calm the chill that was climbing her spine.
“Not possible…it’s not…” Zen grabbed his hammer and moons symbol and prayed.
“No, you were not gone long enough to make from here to the Temple Way. You just asked me to watch the others while you scouted ahead. I have only read two pages since you left.” Gwenneth looked out the cavern into the dark. She heard whispers in the pattering rain, a howl from far off, and saw lighting that made no noise. But no army of ghostly dead.
“Still, something is out there. I assure you, and it knows we are here.” Shinayne walked to the edge, blades out, and stared into the blackness.
“Saberrak, take the left side of the cave with Shinayne. Zen, over here with me now. Be ready.” James drew his blade and waited with vigilance. He nodded to Gwenneth who had already taken her spot back behind them.
For long hours the five stood still and silent, waiting for what Shinayne and Zen said was surely behind them. Their weapons drawn, eyes keen, listening to every sound near and far. They were prepared for any whisper, to face any army or voice, anything at all. Yet in the pitch of quiet night, nothing came. As the black turned to a dark gray in the west to mark the rising sun, the winds began to rise in strength, and only far off screams could be heard.
Johnas IV:I
Castle Valhera, Valhirst, Chazzrynn
The Prince of Valhirst rubbed his temples with his thumb and finger, the stress of so much ongoing had quite a pain shooting across his brow and down his neck. Thousands had arrived to the western fields and hills outside his city, the banners of King Mikhail Salganat and of Chazzrynn could be seen from his battlements. He had expected three thousand or so, yet five legions or more there were, all preparing for siege. Forces from Loucas, Addisonia, Vallakazz, Silverbridge, and even Thoranack had answered their king. Johnas was not intimidated in the least. He held the heir prince, he had the coveted prize of the field, and had no intention of giving it up. On the morrow, after his threatened fortnight, Bryant Salganat would hang from his walls.
Now however, as ill timed as could be, the impatient and bewitching Lord Koligail had arrived from Devonmir to settle affairs. An emissary from the Caberran courts had tracked Johnas down and was awaiting answers as to his motives in Harlaheim. Then, as if his plate were not full enough, rumor had come via the warlock mirrors that King Phillip had threatened war upon Willborne prematurely. An armed guard of men with Lord Valistor Waylen were insistent guests for the past three nights, inquiring as to the reason Johnas was so involved with another kingdom. Sapphire of the East had reported that Crimson of the North was no more, Balric D’Vrelle and the fugitive once-king Richmond the Second had not surfaced, and rumors pointed to the possibility that Kaya T’Vellon may still be alive somehow. The Prince of Valhirst forced words out despite his troubled mind craving but a moments’ peace.
“Jehrale, our men are ready?” Johnas whispered to his left.
“They are, even the Harlian forces. Yet the last ship never arrived. No sign of it. Lost somewhere near a cluster of islands between here and Taberlo.”
“Scout ships, nothing reported?” Johnas was only mildly concerned at the loss of three hundred soldiers from Harlaheim. He had enough in place to take the crown.
“Nothing. Lord Koligail awaits your answers to the Devonmir dispute, brother. His presence is unnerving at best.” Vermillion stepped aside for the visiting lord of the three damned and for his older brother to finish their dealings.
“Very well, but I was much enjoying the view. Do you think Mikhail sees the bodies hanging from the walls and wonders if one is his son?”
“Surely, my Prince, surely.” Jehrale peeked over the edge, noting the still dangling corpses rotting in the morning gray, remnanats from Bryants failed attack.
“Lord Koligail, your terms are surely elevated due to my obvious current entanglements. I will agree to half the amount requested.” Johnas nodded to Vermillion of the South and received a nod from beneath the hood of his b
rothers black cloak. Johnas looked down from his high vantage upon the armies to the west and the wet green landscape of Valhirst. He knew his time to ride out was soon.
Black shrouds of his ornate burial robes whipped in the winds of the Valhera catwalk. Koligail felt not the pleasure of the breeze, the touch of sporadic rains, nor the warmth of the morning on his flesh, little as was left. He turned slowly and glared his red eyes toward Prince Johnas. He spoke in hushed tones from beyond the grave.
“And the minotaur? He has taken many of our most profitable, we have need of replacements.”
“Only if your support to Harlaheim’s new king is doubled. Kalaza is a butcher beyond compare, as I am sure you have seen firsthand, and valuable to me and mine.” Johnas looked through his peripheral vision, as the sight of the red dry flesh over bone was disconcerting. He knew well enough of the deals and curses the lords three of Devonmir had met with long ago, he needed not a reminder of their appearance.
“And the fugitives, there are many that wreaked havoc and have seen too much. Lord Trehad has found trace of the five with the Lazlette woman to the west, but what of your rogue members? The body of Kaya T’Vellon was not among those that Lord Maroguille has risen for research. She lives and knows too much of us, to your failure.“ His whispers and hisses held arcane dark power as he spoke.
“The White Spider is handling our own, all loose ends will be cut, and my new kingdoms will see it done above ground as well. Do not mention failure to me, cursed one. Remember who it is you are talking to.” Johnas sneered as he felt his blade throb at his side, warning him of things it was concenerned with.
“You realize, soon to be king of several kingdoms, that my brothers of the shroud and I have lived past many mortal rulers. Your politics do not frighten us below Devonmir.”
“Be that as it may, all things end Koligail. Even you. When I have Chazzrynn, Harlaheim, and Willborne massed in force together within a few weeks time, I will invade your arenas with thirty thousand men. Now, are we finishing our business or no?”
“If I had any inkling of your failure, I would say no and work my way toward the capital in Harlaheim, just to see you squirm. Perhaps I could be the next implanted sovereign?”
“That will not happen, not even in your lifetime, sorcerer. Last offer, take it or I put Devonmir at the top of my list.”
Koligail paused, his sharp teeth bared at the sickening smells of mortal arrogance. “It will be done. Half million in gold to us for damages done, Chalas Kalaza is now our property, and you have our support to both King Phillip and your agents in Devonmir. We will speak to Domenarch Cadius alone on matters of business going forward, since Rinicus is no more.”
“Agreed.” Johnas Valhera hated losing such a killer as the brown minotaur that butchered Heathen the Red. He caught wind that Chalas had killed Rinicus Three-Blades without permission, something he would not tolerate from anyone. Domenarchs were killed or removed by himself, his Emerald Eight, but never by a new member.The sizzle of acrid smoke took his mind off of the matter quickly as Lord Koligail vanished from sight.
Before he could get a moment of clarity on which situation to handle next, Lord Valistor Waylen of Willborne approached from his left and the noble emissary from Caberra on his right. Johnas knew that thirty soldiers surrounded him, Vermillion was there as well, and even Oggidan and fifty agents watched from shadowed vantage points. Still, the Prince of Valhirst only desired the pressure he brought upon others, not the other way around.
Valistor bowed half heartedly, his blonde braids and beard streaked with gray and silver hung heavy despite the winds. His right hand never left the hilt of his longsword, his winged helm was tight under his arm, and his decorated steel scale armor would have impressed anyone as the white cape was draped half across his front. He looked up to Johnas Valhera, green eyes to green eyes, and he scowled intentionally.
“Do not begin with the Agarian blood and guilt rhetoric that Katrina has tossed for so many years, it holds no bearing upon my conscience, Lord Waylen.” Johnas smiled to the grimacing countenance before him.
“I was unaware of Prince Valhera having a conscience.” Valistor loomed half a foot over Johnas Valhera, yet turned and gazed upon the mounting battle that this wretch would be involved in very soon.
“Well spoken. Yet, I understand that King Phillip the First of Harlaheim has threatened war upon Willborne, and that troubles me.” The Prince of Valhirst glanced to his right as the Caberran man took a fast knee and rose next to him as well.
“He has, at a most inopportune time, I might add.”
“For you perhaps, but not for Harlaheim.” Johnas chuckled.
“Let us cut to the meat, Prince. You control Phillip, soon Chazzrynn, but why Willborne? If it is war you crave, you have plenty here and my kingdom will not---“
“Katrina’s kingdom, you mean.” Johnas corrected with the wave of a finger as he leaned over the high walls of his castle.
“So that is it? Well let me inform your highness that Katrina Willborne, queen or no, has not returned in some time. My scouts heard in Shanador that she was killed in the Misathi Mountains. So whether you long for her and seek revenge, or simply wish to take a wounded territory, it will mean war. I know you have sapped forces from Harlaheim to here, so we are not outmatched.” Valistor spoke fast and low, but knew the Caberran man and the dark clad figure behind Johnas heard every word.
“I have the Crossguard Legion in Harlaheim, deadliest force on the continent. You are outmatched, and I doubt you can rally your old nobles in Willborne to stand against the church. And pity, you just missed Lord Koligail from Devonmir, I have them now as well.”
“When the new Cardinal takes the Aldane, you will lose your Legion, and skulking slaves of old sorcery do not frighten me.” Despite the distance, however far it was, Valistor felt the red in his eyes from Rynnth, felt the power and confidence that her blood had given him. He looked at Johnas again.
“Interesting, I fail to recall when Agarians had eyes that went from green to red. So, the dragon whose blood you drank still lives, for now. You think I was unaware? All I must do is target her, and that willpower and resistance in your council will fade and die with the dragon. Much like your kingdom has for centuries. But, since you have strength to fight, let us make it official, Harlaheim and Willborne then. Declare it, Lord Waylen.” He had wondered if the wyrm of Willborne had survived, and now he knew. It was time to twist it and delay, for that dragon would tear armies apart if half the reports were true.
“I will be king of Willborne with Katrina dead, and they will rally to me. It will be skirmishes at first, as I wait for the Aldane to withdraw the Crossguard Legion in Harlaheim. Then, I will unleash Rynnth upon the crown and rose. Pray I do not come south after, she may enjoy falcon hunting.” Valistor smiled, he knew this mans game. He had done the same in Willborne to get to the head of the council for many decades, on a much smaller scale.
“What is your offer then, as you are verbally moving toward war. I know Willborne could not afford it, yet I respect your desire at strategically making yourself a thorn at the least. Speak your terms, I am about to become a king, and have little time.”
“Traditional terms. Treaty for a decade, you take a city with title in Willborne, I in return, take a city and title in either Chazzrynn or Harlaheim, since you hold two kingdoms.” Lord Waylen smiled at the rather disgusted countenance upon the face of the Caberran man who seemed lost for words, yet listened to every one of them here and now.
“Agreed, as long as the treaty is for mutual support in all manners of the military, which may include your dragon. I will take Larkenport, as Prince thereof from you. I offer you Addisonia, lord with all titles and so forth.” Johnas cared not for Addisonia, too many temples there. He needed more ports to have a swift naval force, so his decision was easy.
“Then the war will be called off by Phillip?” Valistor reached out a hand to Prince Johnas.
He shook it. “Yes it wil
l. Let me know when you take the crown, I expect an invitation, I love ceremonies.”
“Who then, in our mighty conglomerate, will be our adversary, Shanador?” Lord Waylen smiled and looked to the horrified Caberran man who had now let his mouth open yet seemed at a loss for words.
“My conglomerate. Shanador is too large to handle, for now.”
“Armondeen or Kivanis then?” Valistor winked at the messenger and grinned.
“No, too early. I need to hear from Harlaheim’s neighbor first. He has been most patient and respectful.” Johnas turned toward the emissary.
“This is…this is…I do not believe my ears hear such things! I am Wil dell Escada, sent from Cordolla. On behalf of the Caberran courts, I seek answers to our missing Prince Edians dell Barrato and to discuss the trade route agreements between Harlaheim and my kingdom.” His slick black hair and trimmed beard were offset by his smooth tan face that was going rather pale at the moment. His eyes of deep caramel darted back and forth between Johnas and Valistor.
“What would make you think I know of your missing prince? Is he not in Harlaheim? As for your trade agreements, I am the Ambassador of Trade to Caberra and will be arriving to meet you in due time.” Johnas smiled, this man was dressed in his golden surcoat and cape, tridents galore sewn proudly in the cloth, yet had just realized what sort of man he was dealing with.
“I come with the wishes of my king and queen and their sons, and those are that his daughter is found, his eldest son released, and your title withdrawn. He wants nothing to do with you or Harlaheim, Johnas Valhera.” Wil pulled the parchment from his sleeve.
“Wil, not shor for Wilian, is it perchance?” Johnas knew the princes of Caberra, suspected, but then thought otherwise.
“It is, Wilian dell Escada, but taking me hostage will earn you nothing. My family is not valuable, as you surely know.” He showed the parchement to the Prince of Valhirst, and then tore it to pieces and let the wind take it over the castle.
“Ah, so brave of you. You may inform your king that when I arrive to write a new agreement, he had better produce some new daughters to my guest rooms. And if he thinks his illicit dealings with Altestan go unnoticed, tell him to try harder. Agarians have little tolerance for such things.”
The Exodus Sagas: Book IV - Of Moons and Myth Page 12