Exodus: The Windwalker Archive: Book 3 (Legends of Agora)

by Michael James Ploof

  We have to beat ‘em with our minds.

  Majhree’s words came back to him then, and once again he listened.

  “Thank you, Crag. You are indeed a wise man. It seems as though a little bit of the elf magic has rubbed off on you.”

  Crag glanced at his own hands with wide-eyed wonder.

  Chapter 14

  There is Always Another Way

  I wonder sometimes, what have I taught the Skomm? What kind of nation will come of them if it is indeed their fate to be free? The Morenka would argue that I have made a grave error. Perhaps I have. All I know is that I have stopped the suffering of thousands of innocent children. That is enough for me.

  -Azzeal, Keeper of the Windwalker Archive

  “Sir, Captain, may I come in?”

  Argath looked up from the scrolls on his desk and smiled when he saw Talon standing with a foot in the doorway.

  “Please, come in, come in,” said Argath. He rose from his chair and moved to the bar as Talon knew he would. He remembered Captain McGillus doing the same thing a half dozen times. It seemed as though the captains had always been contemplating a drink, and the formality of company was the only excuse that they needed. Indeed, Argath seemed to have already put down a few, for he grinned from ear to ear, and there was a sleepy quality to his smile.

  “You served your people well in Cerushia,” said Argath as he laid the drinks and the bottle on the desk. “I’d like to drink with the man who helped cure, feed, and clothe so many of our brothers and sisters.”

  He raised his glass and tapped it against Talon’s, causing a clean, piercing ring to issue forth. Talon drank and took a seat in the plush chair across from Argath—the same chair he had sat in while dealing with Captain McGillus.

  “Captain,” said Talon. “I think that a direct war against the Vald will end in tragedy.”

  The joviality and celebration left Argath’s face in an instant, not to be replaced by anger or indignation, but with sober consideration.

  “Why do you say this? Has a vision come to you in the elven lands?”

  Talon considered the captain, who sat before him, drunk on dwarven whiskey and elven magic. He thought for a moment to lie to the man, to tell him an outlandish tale about a dream, and perhaps even Thodin himself deeming him a prophet.

  He shook away the notion, disappointed with himself for thinking such a thing.

  “It was not so much premonition as it was consideration. We’ve got what, a dozen or so well-trained gladiators between the two ships. The others might have eaten well in Cerushia, but they are still starved Skomm who never fought for themselves. We know nothing of war, not to mention how to protect tens of thousands of Skomm who are surrounded on all sides by giants bred to kill.”

  “I’ll not hear any words that might discourage me from my course,” said Argath, easily dismissing Talon’s warnings as he poured another drink.

  “How will we train them all? And even if we have years, they will still be no match for the Vald.”

  “Since when have you lost the nerve for battle?” Argath asked.

  “I’ve not lost my nerve. But we cannot win this fight going head to head with the Vald. We have to use our heads if we are to defeat them.” Talon thought of Crag then, and the big man’s words of wisdom. “There is always another way.”

  Argath considered his words and tipped back his glass. Talon ignored his.

  “Then what, tell the gods, is this other way you speak of?”

  Talon opened his mouth to speak, but found that he hadn’t really thought of another way, he just knew there was one. But of course, he didn’t tell the captain that.

  “We need to be smart. We need to play off the Valds’ weakness.”

  “They have a weakness?”

  “Yes, of course,” said Talon, growing excited. “They’re overly superstitious and superficial. They take everything at face value.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, just think about why we’re here, why we’re Skomm; they have placed ridiculous and often times untrue and unfair restrictions on who they think is strong and who they think is weak. They see someone lame, they immediately discard them, never knowing what that person has endured, or the struggles they’ve had to face. And they believe in the gods, which obviously means—”

  “You don’t believe in the gods?” Argath asked, raising his head to glance down upon Talon.

  Talon gave a small snort of a laugh. “Am I to believe in Thodin, who presumably wanted me to never be born, who unleashed a hurricane upon Volnoss to be rid of me…but failed! Am I to believe in a god who supposedly dictated those many centuries ago to discard the weak and small of stature and make them his slaves?”

  He shook his head.

  “If that is what you call a god, then I would rather be godless.”

  Argath considered Talon with a wild light in his eyes. He was not angered by Talon’s words, but rather saddened. It wasn’t uncommon for the Skomm to renounce the Vald gods.

  “Did you ever believe?” Argath asked, sipping his drink slower now.

  “Maybe, when I was younger. But with that belief came self-loathing. But as I said before, I think that the Vald beliefs can be used against them.”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, consider Chief. Many of the Skomm already believe that I have been chosen by the spirit animal of Timber Wolf Tribe. And we can use that to our advantage. As much as I hate to deceive the people, it is the safest way to set them free.”

  “You mean to convince the crew and the freed slaves that you are indeed chosen, that you have been sent by Thodin to even the scales?” said Argath, intrigued, if not slightly crestfallen—Talon realized quickly that he had been a believer.

  “Yes, but not only them, the other Skomm as well. We do not have to wet the ground with blood to achieve our revolution. It will take only one Skomm, defeating one Vald, to turn the tide in our struggle.”

  “You mean to defeat Chiefson Winterthorn.”

  “Yes. It is the only way. With Kyrr I believe that I can defeat Fylkin, and with Chief there as well, I can solidify my claim as Thodin’s prophet. Then the Vald will have to go along with my doctrine, else challenge me. They will have no choice.”

  “And in doing so, you prevent mass casualties, but also the true revolution,” said Argath.

  “Look,” said Talon. “I know that you want nothing more than to kill them all. To take over Volnoss and exterminate the Vald, but that is the kind of thinking that will turn you into a Vald. There is always another way…a better way.”

  Argath looked to Talon with newfound understanding. His face and body relaxed, and he drank the remainder of his liquor.

  “I like your plan, and think it perhaps the wiser route, but the problem remains; how do we get the Skomm off the island, and after that, where do we go?”

  That was the big riddle, one for which Talon had no answer. He told Argath as much, and together the two began thinking of a way.

  “Well…let us start at the beginning,” said Argath, filling their glasses anew. “By many estimates there are over twenty thousand Skomm on Volnoss. A ship such as Freedom can carry perhaps five hundred. Packed to the rafters, mind you. That would require a fleet of forty ships as big as this one to ferry us to our yet unknown location.”

  Talon tried not to show his discouragement at the grand estimation and hid his face with the glass.

  “Perhaps the elves will help us, or Shierdon,” he found himself saying.

  “Perhaps,” said Argath. “You spent more time with the queen than I. Can you speak for them on such a matter?”

  “I think that if we outright asked them beforehand, the answer would be no,” said Talon.

  Argath’s hope withered, and he poured another drink.

  “But,” said Talon, “if we went to them saying that we desperately needed them to help us evacuate, I believe that they would be helpless to offer support. They are good people, if only jaded by scholarly
dogma that preaches caution and non-intervention.”

  “Alright, say your plan works out and they bring the fleet at the opportune moment, and we all sail into the sunset. The question remains…where will we go?”

  Talon considered the question, and the only answer that sprouted into his mind was Shierdon. But the city of Del Harred could not hold that many refugees, and he did not want his people to have to split up to make ends meet. He wanted a unified nation. A land of their own, as he had promised Zerafin would happen.

  “We will find a land of our own,” said Talon. “I do not ask for much, but on this I ask that you believe me…I will find us a place of our own.”

  Argath considered him over the rim of his glass. “I believe like your amma believes,” he said finally. “I believe that you will do great things in your lifetime. And this is one of them. You find us a place to live, and I’ll support you in your scheme. But know this; the moment the plan goes awry, we fight. And we fight until the bitter end.”

  “Agreed,” said Talon, and together they toasted.

  Chapter 15

  A Sour Reunion

  Never I see him give up. Never I see him quit. Then I see his heart break when he looks in her fiery eyes. He gives up. Gives himself to oblivion. May the gods save him.

  -Gretzen Spiritbone

  The wind carried them swiftly north for five days. They took a roundabout route to avoid the fortress island of Fendora, sailing wide into the forbidden eastern seas. The island had been turned into a fortress by Uthen-Arden, to keep the watch for the mysterious dark elves. Talon didn’t know if the legends of the dark elves and their hideous draggard were true or not, but he still found the dark waters foreboding. Even Chief could feel it and often spent endless hours staring off to the east were the elven homeland of Drindellia was said to be located far across the sea.

  “What you see out there, boy?” Talon asked, standing beside Chief at the starboard rail.

  Chief growled low in his throat and Talon perked up. The wolf wouldn’t growl unless there was a real threat.

  “Is it a ship?”

  Chief barked once.

  “Is there more than one?” Talon asked, trying to see through the darkness of night. There were no moon or stars out due to the low hanging clouds that had creeped in from the east just before nightfall.

  Chief barked twice.

  “Good boy, you stay here. If you see anything, give a howl.”

  Talon walked the short distance to Argath’s chamber and knocked twice.

  “Come in,” said Argath.

  Talon found him at his desk, pouring over star charts.

  “Captain, Chief has sensed a ship off the starboard side.”

  “Are you sure?” said Argath, sitting up and grabbing his captain’s hat—one still stained with the blood of McGillus.

  “Chief is sure. He’s been weird for hours now.”

  “Put out the call to arms,” said Argath, strapping his sword belt on his hip.

  Talon left him to prepare and called the crew to arms. They were not seasoned sailors, and few but the former gladiators had any real training in combat, but they sprang to action quickly if somewhat clumsily, swinging down from ropes and hurrying below deck to the armory. Soon everyone was in position, and the cannons were wheeled through the portholes and prepared with dragon’s breath bombs.

  Redemption had been alerted as well, and having fewer Skomm on board, sailed to the starboard side of Freedom to protect her hull. Argath and Eaglewind used an old Skomm fire signaling code developed on Volnoss to communicate throughout the village. It consisted of covering and uncovering a candle or lantern in a series of quick flashes. Through this method, Redemption reported to Freedom that the ship had been spotted five hundred yards off the starboard side, bearing north.

  “They’re pacing us,” said Argath when the lookout reported the message.

  “Could they be elves?” asked Torrence, who stood beside Talon with a big axe clenched between knotted hands.

  “Not likely,” said Talon. “Maybe they’re dark elves.”

  “Well if that’s the case, we’re feiked.”

  “It isn’t dark elves,” said Argath, “and it isn’t Agoran military. I’ve been reading McGillus’s log books and other naval publications; the navies don’t come this far east, and fishermen don’t either.”

  “Then who is it?” Talon asked.

  “Pirates,” said Argath, squinting eastward through the growing fog.

  The wind had nearly died altogether and pushed them along far too slowly for Talon’s liking.

  “Why haven’t they attacked?” he asked.

  “They’re watching us, pacing us, leading us…Hard starboard!” he suddenly bellowed, startling both Talon and Torrence.

  The command was echoed by others, and the wheelman complied, forcing Talon to grab ahold of the rail else stumble across the deck. The signal was sent to Redemption, and soon the two ships were splitting up; Redemption moving northeast, and Freedom veering east to sneak behind the pirate ship.

  Talon followed Argath to the port side as the ship leveled out and gained some momentum. Soon their mysterious escort came into view beyond the rivers of fog. To everyone’s surprise and terror, she was coming at them head on. Worse yet, the vessel turned out not to be a pirate ship, but rather, a Vald icebreaker.

  “Steer into the bastards!” Argath commanded the wheelman. But he didn’t need to tell the man, for he had been a wheelman of one of the biggest Skomm fishing boats and knew it best to let the other ship glance off the front rather than allow a hit amidships.

  They turned toward the attackers, and suddenly thunder erupted from the front of the icebreaker. A cannon hit the bow of Freedom, sending splinters shooting across the deck. Talon was thrown forward with the rest of them and felt a sudden hot piercing sensation in his left shoulder. He began to stand up, but the Vald ship had closed the short distance and now slammed into the port bow, causing anyone not holding on to something to fly across the deck helplessly. Cannons erupted again, from both the icebreaker and Freedom. Talon felt the reverberations through the wooden deck as a few cannons ripped through the hull.

  The ships passed one another, letting off their aft cannons and, in the case of the Vald ship, a volley of arrows.

  “Volley incoming!” Talon screamed when he saw it, though he couldn’t hear his own voice.

  The arrows streaked out of the darkness as he attempted to scramble to his feet against the main mast, but a bundle of glowing fur hit him in the chest and smothered him on the deck. Dozens of arrows hit the boards, and he felt Chief take more than one hit.

  When it was over, Chief turned translucent once more, causing the arrows to fall to the deck.

  “Thanks boy,” said Talon, pulling himself up and surveying the damage.

  “Hard port! Turn with the bastards!” said Argath, who had used a wide barrel to shield himself from the barrage. Many others hadn’t been so lucky. Talon could see one dead man, a skinny Skomm with more than one arrow tacking him to the deck. There were at least a half dozen injured. There was no way to know who might have fallen into the water, or who might have simply been obliterated by one of the blasts.

  The first cannon had hit them port bow, where now the rail was left gaping and burning; smoke billowed from the hole, covering the deck in black soot that mingled with the growing fog blowing in from the east.

  The wheelman had obeyed the command and circled with the now distant Vald ship. Still, there was no sign of Redemption or Eaglewind.

  “Prepare port cannons!” said Argath. “When they’re in range, fire at will!”

  A glowing green orb suddenly flared to life on the hull of the icebreaker, which circled with Freedom two hundred yards off the port side. Talon watched helplessly as the orb cleared the distance to Freedom in a matter of seconds. He grabbed ahold of the stair rail leading up to the poop deck and braced himself.

  The explosion took out the main sail, snapping it c
lean in half and leaving it to fall into the ocean like a great oak. The rigging kept it attached to the ship, and its drag in the water began to turn them starboard.

  Talon’s ears rang, and he choked on the acrid smoke, trying to get a look at the distant ship.

  “They’ve got a magic user on board!” he tried to tell the others, but again, he couldn’t hear his own voice.

  I’ve got to take them out of the fight or we’re doomed, Talon thought, mind racing for a way to get onboard the other ship.

  “Chief! Can you get me onto that ship?”

  Chief barked once, and grabbed ahold of Talon’s collar. Surprise and terror sent Talon’s throat into his stomach as he and Chief suddenly shot from the deck and sailed through the air over the dark waters.

  Talon wanted to scream, and he might have been screaming, he wasn’t sure, but he unsheathed his twin daggers and focused on the power of Kyrr, which was fast growing.

  Chief set him down on the deck of the ship, and Talon rolled once before springing up into the face of a surprised sailor. He slashed his throat before the man could cry out.

  “Kill them all!” Talon heard himself commanding Chief.

  As the blue streaking wolf began wreaking havoc onboard, Talon quickly scoured the deck for the magic user. Two men came at him from different directions, and Talon leapt, aided by the power of Kyrr, and grabbed hold of the beam twenty feet above his head. He quickly hooked a leg and swung up to stand on the beam, which held ropes to the main mast. Talon went to hacking at the ropes, easily severing them with the elven blades.

  One of the sails flailed uselessly below, and the Vald turned their crossbows on him. He deflected the oncoming darts with his daggers and leapt to another beam, all the while trying to locate the sorcerer. In his searching he saw as Redemption finally split the mist and hit the ship in the aft, starboard side. He grabbed ahold of the mast as the ships collided. Below he could still make out Chief, streaking across the deck and tearing the throats out of everyone he could sink his teeth into.