The Exodus Sagas: Book IV - Of Moons and Myth

by Jason R Jones

  His voice captivated, summoned a respectful silence, and all eyes were on him for but a few short moments. Then , laughter the likes of a drunken mob surrounded by a thousand hilarious jesters, even the Armondi guard and their prince could not help but chuckle. Drinks tipped back, rusty steel waved in the morass of patrons, and the crowd tightened closer.

  “Oh brother, we be dead men now.” Tannek grumbled.

  “You see, Harlian, loyalty is ensured by the men with the gold to see it fed. Your feathered cross and fine words mean a waste of air has occurred. Nothing more. As I said, you are far from home.” Prince Rohne drew his scimitar high, his men went en guard, yet the calm moment before the order to commit bloodshed was broken, by an arrow.

  Thewwwmmm!

  The arrow whisked past Rohne’s face and landed into the wall, intentionally missing. The pull of bowstrings by perhaps one hundred or more could be heard from every corner and even outside the tavern. People backed up, muttered a bit, and many elves were revealed, all aiming at the Armondi soldiers. The laughter stopped abruptly.

  “The elves of Old Aloeste hear your call, Cristoff the Third! I say, send the Armondi home feathered with flights! Aariss Diravas and my Riverbows stand with you!” An elf with long brown braids, a wedge of pointy nose, and a fierce stare, smiled mischievously at Rohne as his men kept steady aim throughout the tavern. He winked at the prince as the young noble looked for the origin of the arrow that dared whisk his face. He nodded to rest his suspicions.

  Longblades drew from ragged men and women throughout the cluttered tavern, nearly two hundred suddenly stood on balconies, bartops, and in the doorways. They nodded to a shorthaired woman, one with many scars, and chain links under her peasant garb. Cristoff had seen her earlier, same with the elves, as if they had been waiting for something. She nodded in return and pointed her blade wrapped with a white strip of cloth around the hilt, like all the others in her mercenary band.

  “Julia Whiteblade and the Peasant Swords of Freemoore will shed blood with anyone that stands against Armondeen, for any cause!” Serious, with not even a hint of a smile, her command and vow brought hushed whispers. Many that had stood with the Armondi in the tavern, put their weapons away and settled back into the crowds, yet were intent on keeping the gold.

  “Master Aariss and Lady Julia, your words are heard and held!” Cristoff now pointed his blade directly down at Prince Rohne. “Far from home Prince, but even here some heed the call of honor.”

  “Ohhh, I am gonna like this now. I think the odds are a bit more square then, come on prince, make yer’ move.” Tannek Anduvann smiled, teasing with his axe while Dalliunn growled a feline warning and gripped his fingers over the handle of Zen’s warhammer. Jardayne and Codaius raised their greatblades in a high guard, and all men were ready for a brawl of blades and blood.

  “What ye’ waitin’ for boy? An invitation to---“ Tannek interrupted himself, he heard something outside, it was stomping steel and chanting. His men were coming, he knew their steps by heart, and he smiled so wide it hurt.“No, on second thought, just wait a few more minutes there Prince. I think me brothers would like to meet ye’.”

  Vuumber! Vuumber! Vuumber!

  It echoed from the north side of the city, undeniable, the dwarves of Marlennak were marching into Freemoore. Armondi scouts rushed in, took a fast bow, and whispered into Prince Rohne’s ear. He nodded, smiled, and kept his composure well for the information he received about five hundred armed dwarves heading this way. He furrowed his brow, as if a difficult decision had to be made, when he was told that no sign or trace of Saberrak the gray minotaur or his companions could be found in the free city. He looked to the surrounding archers and mercenary gangs, then to the few from Evermont, and lastly at his men as the marching grew closer.

  “It seems my father, the noble King Ian Viorius of Armondeen, has nuances in his ailing health. This little foray that I would most enjoy finishing, will have to be postponed until a later time. My sovereign apologies.” Rohne sheathed his scimitar. He knew he was now evenly matched here at No Kings Well, and that five hundred more arriving would only worsen his chances of victory. He thought of how Freemoore would look once his kingdom took it by force, and burned this tavern to the ground.

  “Pity, best be careful Prince Rohne.” Sir Codaius sheathed his greatsword under his arm.

  “And why is that, great Bear of Evermont? Are you eager to see your blood lining these walls?”

  “No, but I have heard that that cowardice is rather contagious, tis the last thing an ailing king need catch at his end. Perhaps you should keep your distance.”

  “Your words have just marked you dead Codaius, and all of those with you, I will not forget it. Should you travel to the curselands, or even think it, you will be spared no quarter.” Rohne sneered and turned his back to them. Chin high, surrounded by soldiers, he made for the nearest exit. “Men of Freemoore, you have been dually warned. It is time Armondeen showed you a bit of rule. You would be wise to remember this day, and my face.”

  Thewwwmmm!

  Another arrow whistled past his hairline, landing into the doorframe and wobbling there. Rohne grabbed it and kept his pace down the steps.

  “Your face will see many of those should your men ever return, Prince of Armondeen! ” Aariss of the Riverbows lowered his bow and raised his hand high as Prince Rohne mounted his armored stallion. “Three cheers and a round of wine for Evermont and Lord Cristoff the Third!”

  Haaa! Haaa! Arah!

  The timed steps of steel plate, the sudden stop of the former Southern Outguard Scouts of Marlennak, it had everyone in the tavern on edge. Black plate and chain, shields all on the left, spears in hand, battle axes on their hips, the red bearded brigade turned in formation to face No Kings Well. A plump dwarf with a shaved head looked around at the departing force barely the size of the one he led, shook his head, and entered the tavern.

  Tannek rushed over to his older brother, put one arm around his neck, and laughed in a rough embrace. “Brother, that timing was perfect! Did ye’ see the looks on their faces? Damn Armondi Prince and his men, you done good Drodunn Anduvann, done good.”

  “Whose faces, what ye’ spattin’ about then Tannek?” Drodunn wiped his sweating head, looked around the packed pub all staring at him.

  “The prince, the men, ye’ scared em’ off ye’ did. When ye’ came to our aid, saved our arses in truth, I be proud o’ ye’.”

  “Oh, that? Sorry, I just wanted to feel what it was like to march the men around a bit. I was, well uh, just showin’ off ye’ know, the men wanted to see the city and all, so did I. What prince? Was there trouble? Did ye’ get the names o’ anyone that----“

  “Ye’ mean to tell me that was by accident?” Tannek smacked the breastplate of his priestly brother hard.

  “Nothing is by accident brother, Vundren told me in me prayers this mornin’ to take a stroll in the city. Didn’t feel to go alone in this cesspool, so I done brought the boys.”

  “Vundren be praised.” Tannek looked to the ceiling of the tavern, then to Drodunn’s hammer and moons, then felt the hand of Cristoff on his shoulder.

  Soon, Drodunn found himself surrounded on the steps by people he had never met. They all stared and cheered as the Armondi forces left Freemoore to the northwest, clapped and threw praise toward the dwarves of Marlennak in formation, and everyone began talking to one another. Wine, ale, and water passed from elf, to dwarf, to free men and women, noble and common alike.The dwarven priest took out his book and quill, to scribe the names of Julia Whiteblade and her Peasant Swords, then Aariss Diravas and his Riverbows, and lastly the brave Knights of Evermont that guarded the Shans o’ Little Door who had met the very heroes they were following. Before long everyone was talking of Mooncrest, the curselands, and the search for the Kaki Mountains. The elves knew of Tintasarn, south of the peaks, and how to get there by the fastest route. Aariss Diravis had stated his cousin was there, guarding a holy shrine with his priests.
The minstrels sang of the travels, the journeys of the five that sought the lands of myth, and the thousands that followed them.

  “My lord Cristoff, a word if you would?” Sir Jardayne walked out into the bustling streets.

  “Knight General Jardayne, of course. What is it?”

  Jardayne let out a sigh. “You truly seek this place, despite the certain death that is said to lay waiting, all these thousands of years?”

  “I do. We all do. I have traveled all this way, and intend to see it through. You have met them, you know, I can tell by your eyes.” Cristoff smiled, stroked his tight gray beard, and looked at Jardayne with a serious spiritual stare.

  “I feel it, yes. I did when I met them, and I know who it is that will try and stop them. Even if you find it, and it is all that the legends say it is, you cannot take on the kingdom of Armondeen. I know the man that leads their armies. I cannot speak for Shanador, nor Evermont, I cannot---”

  “Then join us, help us find them and the dream. Stop finding reasons for no, and look at the divine answers for yes.” Cristoff pleaded with his words, yet kept his noble stance.

  “I would lose my title, my honor in Shanador, exiled or worse than that----“

  “I am without title, without my city and kingdom, and in exile. But, by choice. I felt it, I felt it on Soujan Mountain, the word of God spoke to me. It told me to go west. I did not listen. Then, they helped me liberate my city from the ruthless king of Harlaheim who occupied it and wanted me dead. Still, I did not listen. Sir James of Chazzrynn waited for me, but I refused to go. I said the same as you, Jardayne. My title, my honor, my kingdom. And do you know what?” Cristoff put his hand on the armor of the Knight General of Evermont.

  Jardayne was inspired, it was as if truth itself was crushing him as he tried to breath. His eyes watered. “What, Lord Cristoff?”

  “From the time they left Saint Erinsburg, every moment, I felt as if it was a sin against Alden for me to deny their truth and destiny. I slept not one minute, and I regretted every single second of my life. The honor and purpose I was shown, was not enough to dream, because I thought myself unworthy. I was afraid, though I would not admit it to anyone until just now. Do you know what else?” Cristoff touched his golden feathered cross and then held it up, just a bit.

  “What else, my lord? Understand, that I cannot simply side one kingdom against the other on a dream, I…I am not a king..” Jardayne had to look away. When he did, he saw Codaius, the dwarves, and his men all watching. Whether they heard the words being spoke or no, he knew that it was obvious what the discussion was about. He lowered his head, not wanting to look at anyone. Codaius was approaching, he felt the heavy hand of his closest friend.

  “Since I abandoned all I have known, taken my people with me across the continent in search of that dream, I have felt more alive than all the sum of my years. Suddenly, all the politics, service to others, and things that I thought important, are not. God is here now guiding us, I have something to believe in, that I have seen. You and I met them, it was no accident, and where they go I shall not let them go alone. You have this one moment Jardayne, this one decision when every voice outside would say no, all you must do is follow that voice inside that is shouting for you to say yes, to whatever end.” Cristoff smiled, nodding to those behind them outside No Kings Well. “I will leave you to your decision, Jardayne of Highmont, but our caravan heads west and I must lead them.”

  “What are your orders, Knight General?” Codaius looked to the mercenary gangs that had joined, the little minstrels, and their fifty men that awaited by their steeds. He knew when Jardayne was troubled, for he became quiet and looked at the ground, always without a smile. “Form up with low king Symond, return to Evermont, drink it all away here in Freemoore?”

  Jardayne lowered his head, he thought of the men in Evermont, his duties, and the fortress city he was charged with. Saberrak Agrannar, Sir James, the king of Kakisteele, Mooncrest, it warred in his head like a barrel about to burst. He smiled and looked up to Sir Codaius, then put his hand up for his horse to be brought. He took the reins and looked to his men. None of them moved, just watched.

  “My friend, you have command here now. My last order to you is to see this caravan, under Lord Cristoff, safely through to their destination.”

  “And where will the Knight General be going then?” Codaius smiled, and met the teary eyed and inspired look of his friend as he mounted his steed.

  “To Evermont, at a quick pace, alone.” Jardayne reached for a shake of forearms. His men began muttering and talking now, wondering what was going on.

  “May I ask your purpose for this journey?” Sir Codaius shook his hand and smiled.

  “Armondeen knows of our friends, they have threatened harm, and that I cannot abide.” Sir Jardayne nodded to Cristoff and Codaius. “I will meet you there, with every horse in Evermont that our king allows, to whatever end.”

  “And if he denies you, what then Jardayne?” Codaius let go of his friends’ arm as his horse began to anticipate the road home.

  “Then I will meet you alone, but I will be there, I swear on the Shield of Shanador.” Jardayne spurred his mount, and raced out of Freemoore as fast as the crowds would allow.

  “Men of Evermont, take the saddle and banners high! We ride armed escort to Lord Cristoff Bradswellen the Third!” Sir Codaius bellowed out his commands and smiled to the men as they yelled their enthusiasm back.

  “Hail!”

  “Ready to head to the Kaki Mountains men, ready to find King Thalanaxe?!” Tannek shouted next.

  “Vuumber!”

  “Peasant Swords, fall in and protect Lord Cristoff!” Julia Whiteblade raised her sword and yelled her orders to her two hundred mercenaries.

  “Aye!”

  “Riverbows, lead us west by southwest, the road to Tintasarn through the sandstone peaks!” Aariss Diravas raised his bow and took his hundred fifty elven scouts to the lead of the formation.

  “Arah!”

  “Shans o’ Little Door, strike a melody for our journey, and keep it lively now!” Tubrey o’ Tarnobb snapped the reins of the wagon, sending his purple caravan and the donkeys into motion.

  “Yay!”

  Cristoff looked at the line of men and women before him, then to his feathered cross, and then he whispered to himself. “We are coming Sir James Andellis, you are not forgotten, and nor is your honor. Alden watch over you, over those with you, and I wish I could tell you what your bravery has allowed to happen. I wish I could be there, with all who follow the same dream, and to see what you may be seeing now. God, keep them all safe, keep a watchful eye until we arrive, and let your will guide us as it most certainly has thus far. Thank you for Leonard, Karai, Garret, Kaya, and Rosana. Thank you for Tannek, Drodunn, Brunnwik, Codaius, Jardayne, Julia, and Aariss. For everyone we have met, and not yet met, for all of those that have died and may still bleed for our cause, I give you thanks. Amen.”

  Cristoff waited, eyes closed in prayer atop his horse, and waited for a sign that it was time for him to move. The melody of the little minstrels hummed out, the stomping of armed forces headed toward destiny, and still he waited. A lick to the face from a lewirja reared on its hind legs was what he received. Smiling, wiping the feline saliva from his beard and face, Cristoff thanked Alden once more.

  “Lord, I also thank you for Dalliunn Cloudwatcher, the lewirja with such a gifted sense of smell.”

  Gwenneth IV:I

  Ruins of Mooncrest

  “I said be quiet, now!” Gwenne whispered through her gritted teeth.

  Fool of a girl, you need to enter the tower of my former student, Carados! The powers there I can teach you are immeasureable!

  Gwenneth was hovering at a forward angle, moving faster than she ever had through the air above ground. Her mind was resisting the impulses and demands of the Staff of Imoch, demands that she leave her friends and enter the green marble tower. Not that she was not fascinated by what may be inside the millennia old
home of a famous archamage, but the army of skeletal soldiers on long dead steeds that chased them through the ruins held her attention to that of survival. There were hundreds, stampeding under gray skies through sandstone ruins, herding the five toward the palace.

  “Not now, after this is over. I promise you I will---“

  “Gwenneth, who are you talking to?” James grabbed her arm and pulled her around the corner street they had all dodged into.

  She looked quick to Zen, Shinayne, and Saberrak, lastly to James. They were all breathing heavy, the dead knights would not give up their chase, it had gone on for hours. Her eyes caught the old bronze sign, barely legible from erosion, it read Carice Way.

  “Nothing, no one, talking to myself is all. Where to now?”

  “They aren’t lettin’ us any closer to the center, or near the doors to the mines. They keep corralling us either north or west, like they’re protecting somethin’ there. We can’t go on like this much more, I say stand at the temples.” Azenairk wiped the sweat from his face, wishing the storm that hummed menacingly around the outer ruins would blow inward, just for a moment to cool off.

  “I agree. We can use the bridges to lessen their numbers, and their steeds will slow with all the stairs.” Shinayne nodded, also noting that the street was named for her blade and the white moon, or perhaps the other way around.

  “Make it quick, I am tired of running.” James looked southwest to the seven rising stone temples, each interwoven with connecting bridges, and then the three that surrounded them, each ten to twenty even thirty stories in height. “Looks like a maze to me, hopefully more so to them.”

  “Here they come, enough talk.” Saberrak Agrannar pumped his tireless legs, greataxe in each hand, and led them toward the temples. He saw the blackened bones and tabards, heard the trampling clatter of the equine dead they rode, and knew without a second glance that several hundred ancient swords were coming for them.