“How do they know these five can even pass the storm or enter that place? What makes Andorra and Harron sure enough to take such noble forces and grand sirs as ourselves to action?” The Smiling Knight queried sarcastically, waving his arms around the tent.
“His father.” Bishop Thohne pointed to Lord Cetreus. “Trehad the eternally cursed of Devonmir, he and his two cohorts in dark damnation, have seen the five fugitives and know of them. They have something that can open and free those lands, and they confirmed it with the voices from the eleven. The Hells command the sacrifice and a temple, and we shall be there to honor it.”
“And to make sure no one sees it. We may have to kill a few of our own, but all for the greater glory.” Cetreus added.
“Hail Shukuru and his flames! Hail Cancuru and his madness! Let us all swim in blood and glory eternal!” Bishop Thohne spoke soft, yet with force and purpose to his words.
His words sent chills through the canvas tent to Kendari, Angeline, and even the deer. The men chuckled, toasted, and carried on with talking of their cities and the kingdom of Armondeen. Kendari felt his chest, the mark of Nareene was burning hot, he knew something approached and it was time to leave. He looked to Angeline and the deer with a serious glare. He touched his head, nodded, and thought of the words he would whisper but could not in their close position.
We need to leave, now
I agree
Watching in the dark, with but slivers of Carice and Gimmor overhead in the twinkling starlight, Angeline, the deer, and Kendari snuck back to safety. Past four tents with feasting Armondi soldiers, avoiding the carcass filled brushpile, and over the quiet stream they crept. They paused as another patrol of twenty men arrived from the west, then they dashed around a hill and removed their cowls.
Angeline spoke first, keeping calm and feeling the impulses from Charity that she had already sensed. “Kendari, I must go. I have to find them in the south before these men do. I feel our paths must part this night.”
Kendari shook his head and affirmed without question. “I was about to suggest the same. Take the deer, for what I may have to do in Vin Armon could get a bit, bloody.”
The deer scruffed his paws in the dirt, nudged Kendari, and shook his head to the no.
“The deer goes with you, I cannot change the will of the Mother.”
“Fine, just make sure you find them, and travel fast and safe.” Kendari nodded to the deer and squinted his eyes in displeasure. “And you, stay close, quiet, and do as I say.”
“And you? What is your plan Kendari of Stillwood?”
“Trust me, I will get in. I have a summoning to disrupt. You just do, whatever you do, and do not fail them. Leave Vin Armon to me.”
“Then this is farewell, my vigilante swordmaster.” Angeline closed her eyes and breathed in the calm air. “Watch over him.”
“I will.” Kendari nodded.
“I was speaking to the deer.” Angeline patted the young buck on the head and rubbed his little horns.
“Ahh, amusing. Farewell, flying woman. If one or both of us should die, it has been an adventure crossing blades with you in three different kingdoms.”
“She works in mysterious ways, never forget this. You can find redemption, I know from experience. It has been a dangerous twist of fate meeting you, to say the least. Seirena’s blessing upon you, Kendari of Stillwood.” Angeline reached out her arm, she saw him hesitate and stare, then he took a breath and shook her forearm to his.
“Well met, Angeline of Charity, of the Knights Soujan.” It had been centuries since he had met someone he felt respect for. Longer since he felt to shake arms, hands, or embrace anything. Quickly, Kendari pulled the cowl over his head and dashed into the darkness north and west. The deer cast a knowing glance or three to Angeline, but he followed the Nadderi elf closely. Within moments, they were gone.
Angeline was alone in the dark, under the moons, she closed her eyes and knelt in the grass. She heard Kendari’s trampling horse ride off north. She drew Charity from her scabbard and laid her in front of her knees. Clearing her mind, she allowed the stars, the white moon, and the earth itself to come to her. Charity sang a song that only she could hear, sending blessings out in poetic verse for Kendari and the deer. After moments in silence, the lady of the Knights Soujan opened her eyes and looked at Charity. A leaf had blown onto her anglic carved crosspiece of little feminine faces. The leaf pointed due south, then blew away in the night breeze.
“South it is.” Angeline picked up her hand and a half blade of her secret order, kissed it, and sheathed it. She felt a throb, a sound in her head, Charity was telling her something.
“I know, I feel it too. A child to be born soon, one of the Caricians is close by, and so is Gwenneth Lazlette. Sing to me Charity, for we have a long travel to cover in short time.” Angeline felt the grass and air lift her, felt the wind in her face as she hovered with inhuman steps, and followed the guiding will of the children of the Mother.
Johnas IV:II
Castle Valhera, Valhirst
“Capitan D’Littai, your men are falling back on the south and north walls! Send out your reserves!” Johnas yelled from the catwalk of Valhera castle as arrows flew over his head from the enemy and stones from catapults crashed into his city.
“Yes, m’liege! But I have no more sergeants to lead them!” The Harlian capitan had four thousand men outside the walls of Valhirst battling the armies of King Mikhail and Chazzrynn. One legion to the north, one to the south, and two on the western entrance. Half of those men were dead and dying already, only half an hour into the siege.
“Do you need an invitation? Get on your damn horse and charge the field, capitan!” Johnas drew his longsword and pointed to the leader of the borrowed Harlian forces. Capitan D’Littai drew his rapier, pulled the visor on his helmet down, and marched down the stairs to what remained of his men.
Johnas had not expected Mikhail to charge in so hard, head on as he had, surely knowing he was outnumbered. The king with Lord Corey’s forces had rode right through the Harlaheim infantry, and even match of numbers but not experience. Aelaine Lazlette and her Kendrynn Shilde had occupied the archers and infantry there with hit and run tactics into the south wall. Her arcane powers were eating up arrows and time as her balls of fire and strokes of lightning weakend the castle gates. General Fandruss had waited for the late arriving Sir Jallan of Hurne, and now outmatched the forces on the north wall as well. With his walls so occupied with the deafening barrage of battering rams, he had not had time to counter Chancellor Marcus who relentlessly fired catapults and volleys of arrows, one after another, into his city.
“My prince, why do we wait? We have two thousand men of our own with bows and blades, and Lord Unarvin here and his thousand, not to mention our agents all ready to spring from the sides spill blood for you.” Oggidan ducked a spear thrown from the battle below that somehow reached up near the top of the catwalk. He looked down with his prince.
Four thousand or more men on foot and horse were carving each other red through steel and standards on three fronts of the castle. Just as many were dead on the green summer grasses and being trampled underfoot. Their bridge was up, yet Mikhails’ army had placed three siege bridges over his moat, and had gotten two wheeled battering rams across. One was useless, covered in oil and flames, one hundred dead around it already. The other was covered with shields and still cracking through the main gates of the castle. They watched King Mikhail rally his men, fighting like he was half his own age, fighting while surrounded and never faltering. The black falcon flags and banners would not fall, his men were winning, and Johnas knew it.
Lord Unarvin, the traitor from Saint Gavrielle spoke solemnly as well, watching the deaths of thousands this close had humbled him. “Seems we are losing the north and south, but barely holding the west gate---“
“I know what form the siege is in, fat traitor and one handed boy! I need not a lecture!” Johnas yelled.
“Sorry my pri
nce.” They spoke quietly as the screams and clash of steel rang below them.
“We wait to get all the borrowed forces on the field. Once I am done with the Harlians, you, Unarvin will lead our forces in the courtyard. You will get to see a king die by my hand, so be ready on my command.” Johnas sneered at the traitor, he despised the fat bearded wretch.
“Yes, my prince.” Lord Unarvin bowed as another stone smashed new cracks into Valhera castle to their left.
“Oggidan, get me Farrigus and tell him to fetch his men from the ships, now. All agents to the upper tunnels and balconies. Here, take this, give it to Vermillion of the South, tell him to guard the heir prince close.” Johnas unbuckled his kris blade with the strange emerald pommel. It had been throbbing, his mother inside warning him of many things. In the midst of siege, he could not discertain what she was directing him toward, so he would send the steel blade to his brother, despite her obvious displeasures.
“My prince, the sword is, it is…vibrating and ouch! Ahhh…owww! It stings me, how does it do that?” Oggidan held the grip and then switched to holding it by the scabbard as pain shot through his remaining hand.
“Do not touch it, just carry it to Vermillion, now!” Johnas took a shield held out by one of his many squires. He had three thousand men, panthers, and agents waiting. Yet, he felt timing was not right. “And send the doppelgangers to me.”
Oggidan ran down the stairs to the courtyard, then into the castle to head below. Lord Unarvin followed Johnas to ready the men, then Johnas nodded to his guards and raised his hand. The north and south gates were sealed behind the Harlian forces outside in a desperate battle at the walls. The thousands of soldiers of Valhirst backed up to the rear east wall in formation, drew and raised their bows, then waited.
“What are you doing, my prince?” Unarvin knew that the Harlaheim forces were mixed in melee with King Mikhail, and would be hit as well with the blind rain of flights.
“Are you Harlian, Lord of Saint Gavrielle?” Johnas clenched his fist in the air.
“No, my prince.” He bowed his head.
“Then what do you care? Archers, loose!” Three times he gave the order, and three times the two thousand bows of Valhirst fired over their western gates into the battle they could not see.
Screams, both Harlian and Chazzrynnian alike, rose each time mere seconds after the arrows filled the sky. Johnas smiled, mounted his stallion, and waited for his reinforcements to ready their blades and shields. The steel portcullis was leaning in, coming loose from the stone, he knew his uncle would be through soon. Several more duplicates of himself appeared throughout the caslte interior, and he grinned even more.
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“You arrre so lucky that Johnas wants you to hang frrrom his walls, little prince. If I had my way, you would be food forrr my men.” Farrigus kicked his boot into the fetal curl of Bryant again, then again. His whiskers were sprouting as the smell of blood rose faintly in the air and the chains rattled with every blow he delivered. He purred as he smiled, certain he had broken many bones of the heir prince of Chazzrynn in the last half hour of retribution.
Jehrale Valhera watched, no emotion on his face at all, and stood silent by the four agents in the prison corridors of the White Spider underground. The crashing of stones and battering of rams echoed little, but enough for him to hear this far under. His senses were keen, he heard someone approaching, yet he kept his eyes on this Farrigus creature, man, whatever he was.
“You know, Brrryant, no one everrr escapes the White Spider. No one ever has, so you know this is your last day, rrright?” Crimson of the North, a title now held by this strange man known as Farrigus Narminson, grabbed the heir prince by the hair and slammed his knees into his face.
Bryant fell back down and curled up. He could not see out of his left eye as it was swollen over. His energy was gone after two weeks of whatever they fed him and cold sweats in the dark. His breathing was short, something clacked in his chest, surely bones were broken. He tried to move his fingers into fists, yet only one hand would respond, and that hand was missing a finger already. His left leg was numb from the knee down, and his jaw felt strange from the right side up past his ear. The strength he had to fight, to talk and insult at least, was gone. The strong kick of this man, who he vaguely remembered to start, was beyond the forceful beatings of the others. This man was not human, something was not right about him, but he remembered the patch. Bryant recalled the man on the Queen Sapphire that attacked his galleon, and he thought of how he had won and left her stranded in the islands. He tried to smile, knowing that he was right about the White Spider. Another boot, then three, ended his pleasant thoughts.
“Enough. That is enough, someone is coming Farrigus.” Jehrale drew his twin shortblades and turned slow inside a shadow. The four agents did the same, though not nearly as well.
“I am now Crimson of the North, I expect the title to be rrrecognized, Vermillion.” Farrigus purred back, slowly turning darker with fur and also taking solace in a dark slant of shadow.
“Fine, Crimson of the North, shut your mouth. Your time with the prisoner is over. Better?” Vermillion watched a lone figure run down the stairs.
“You arrre lucky I smell your relation to Johnas, or the Emerald Eight would need another leg to stand on, Vermillion.” Farrigus walked on all fours now, the patch over his eye, and prowled the underchamber. “It is the red headed boy, I smell him.”
“Master Vermillion, where are you?” Oggidan whispered. He jumped back and pointed his armblade. One feline eye was to his right while four sets of blades came from his rear and left.
“Here, young Oggidan.” Jehrale Valhera sheathed his blades and walked forward, the agents heeded his words and withdrew without order. He noticed Farrigus wince at the fact the agents listened to him without question.
“I have sent the other agents up topside, the war is going to breach the gates soon. Farrigus I have---“ Oggidan was cut off.
“Crimson of the North, boy, do not forrrget it again.” Farrigus growled.
“My apologies.” Oggidan bowed slightly to the one eyed panther. “Master Crimson, Prince Johnas has requested you and your men from the ships to the courtyard, now.”
“Is that an orrrder, boy?”
“No sir, just from the prince is all, not from me.” Oggidan reached out his hand with the jeweled scabbard, Johnas’ kris blade inside. “Master Vermillion, the patriarch has asked for you to guard the heir prince, and told me to give this to you. Be careful, it hurt me when---“
“I know, only Johnas and I can hold it.” Jehrale took the blade that held the timeless spirit of their mother, known as the emerald witch of Valhirst. Her trial was inevitable two decades past now, she was guilty of killing their father, so she had plunged this blade into her chest. Now, she was inside it, always guiding her sons to what she failed to accomplish in life and warning them of danger.
“So I go to fight the war, while mighty Vermillion gets gifts and guard duty? Typical, Johnas always has his favorites, but those favorites usually end up dead.” Crimson of the North stalked out of the underground to get his feline brethren from the galleons at port.
“Was that a threat, newly appointed replacement?” Jehrale unsheathed the kris blade, then a shortblade in his left.
“A prrromise, master Vermillion, brother of Johnas Valhera. Your title may be just as precarious as mine, one by curse and timing, and one by rrrelation. I go to kill many men now, you two enjoy the dark…and watch your path, you neverrr know what may cross it.” Farrigus the panther stalked up the stairs in the dancing torchlight, alone.
“Brother? Is that true, master Vermillion?” Oggidan walked back toward his second mentor. The first was Fadim, the previous Crimson of the North, who was killed as a traitor by Sapphire of the East. Now, Oggidan had been learning under Vermillion of the South, and he was smiling at the thought that he was the brother to Johnas Valhera.
Jehrale walked back toward the
heir prince after a quick nod to the four guarding agents. He thought of how he was supposed to kill anyone that found out, but that was not possible now. He resigned that Johnas, as king soon, would have to accept the fact their secret would become common knowledge in the White Spider. “Yes Oggidan, I am his younger brother, Jehrale Valhera.”
Oggidan looked as Vermillion of the South removed his hood. Scars on his left side looked to be from acid or burns, three scratches on his right went from eye to throat, and his head had slicked back blonde hair tied in a tail. His eyes were green, and without the markings, he looked nearly identical to Johnas, especially with the emerald sword in his hand.
“I…I..don’t know what to say, master Vermillion of---“
“Please, call me Jehrale, I almost never hear my name spoken.” Jehrale stared at Oggidan, smiled, and then looked to the heir prince who was staring up at him from his shivering curled position on the cell floor. The three looked back and forth, in silence for untold moments.
“It was my mothers’ wish that one of us survived, as she feared House Salganat would kill us all. After Mikhail had turned my father against us, she hid me away and faked my death by fever. I was very young, my father dead shortly after, and Johnas was the elder. It is the way of things with warring houses in a kingdom. The Valheras had many generations of rule in Chazzrynn, then the Salganats for the last several centuries. Now, the Valhera line will rule again.”
“You rule from shadows…only…Valhera…honor belongs to house…Salganat…forever.” Bryant moaned out what he could as his tired body collapsed against the wall he had drug himself to.
“Your house has but two men left, Bryant. One imprisoned here, one about to die on the fields of Valhirst. There is something you should know before you hang this night. Something to put your mind at ease.” Jehrale sheathed the emerald kris blade, ignoring the throb and warnings it was sending him.
The Exodus Sagas: Book IV - Of Moons and Myth Page 24