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

by Michael James Ploof

  “This is the spot,” said Han. He slid down the wing of his silver hawk and took off his goggles, rubbing his eyes. “Ash, stretch your legs and take the first shift. I want a two-mile-wide perimeter set, and keep an eye out for those ships.”

  “Aye,” said the dwarf. He leapt off and hurried to relieve himself behind a bush.

  Talon got down and stretched his sore body. He hadn’t thought that riding a silver hawk could be so painful. His legs throbbed, and it felt as though he had fallen on his tailbone a dozen times.

  “Mind you don’t get them hawk rider bow legs,” said Haze as he stood before his mount, holding a pouch of food over its beak.

  “Let’s get camp set up,” said Han. “Talon, help Flick with the tents. Haze, get us a fire going.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the men.

  They set up camp quickly, and Han came back from a nearby stream with bulging pouches of water. He said something to his silver hawk, and it leapt into the air in the direction of the stream. When it returned, it carried a dead deer carefully in its razor-sharp beak and dropped it beside the fire.

  Han pet its head and offered words of encouragement before dropping a handful of green buds on the ground. Talon had been told the importance of the plant early on. It was called hawksbane, and was used to train and reward the hawks, who found it utterly irresistible.

  Ash landed beside the camp an hour later, and Flick took his turn scouting the perimeter. When Ash saw the deer that the others were butchering, he rubbed his hands and licked his lips.

  “Outta the way, outta the way,” Ash said, producing two hatchets and clanging them together. “Let a professional deal with the meat!”

  Han laughed and stepped aside. “Have at it,” he said, wiping his hands on a rag and pulling Talon off to the side.

  “That treasure of yours is that way,” he said, pointing west. “There’s a cemetery between us and the next village. If your coordinates are right, the treasure is buried somewhere around there.”

  Talon wondered again of Han’s sincerity about not wanting any of the treasure. He watched Han closely, but the man ignored the probing and went on.

  “Do you want to dig it up tonight and save the Skomm from risking landfall, or do you want to wait for them?”

  Talon thought about it. Digging it up first and bringing it to them would be safer. Freedom and Redemption were no doubt considered pirate ships by the many kingdoms, though the king of Shierdon had ensured him that they would not be touched by Shierdonian naval vessels. Again Talon regarded Han suspiciously. Finally, the man squared on him and offered a scowl.

  “I told you, lad, I’ve got no interest in your loot. If I wanted it, I would take it. Now, what do you want to do?”

  “It will be better if they don’t come to shore. It’ll cause too much talk, and we don’t want the Vald catching wind of us right now. Let’s dig it up tonight.”

  “Good choice,” said Han. “But first, let us dine.”

  Chapter 23

  Dead Man’s Loot

  Gretzen’s magic intrigues me. Unlike the dark elf art of necromancy, the old Vald’s magic is a practice of working with the spirits, rather than enslaving them. She listens to them, helps them, learns from them. It is said that every secret spoken aloud can be known through the spirit world.

  -Azzeal, Keeper of the Windwalker Archive

  All through dinner Talon thought of what they might find buried inside the cemetery. The venison was tender and juicy, but he hardly noticed, so enamored was he by the idea of riches. He planned on helping the Skomm to start their own country, and they could use all the help they could get. The money would come in handy when the building began on the new Skomm Village.

  Talon smiled to himself at the thought—a country of their own. Never in a thousand years had he ever thought such a thing might be possible.

  Flick landed and grabbed a hunk of meat before accepting a wine flask from Ash.

  “You’re up,” Han told Haze. “The rest of you, grab your spades and follow me. Talon, you might want to summon that wolf of yours.”

  Talon summoned Chief and told him what they were about to do. As they walked the distance to the cemetery, Gill-Gammond’s clues came back to him, graveyard…crying mother…murderer, murderer…murderer!

  He scoured the landscape as the distant, foggy cemetery came into view.

  “Well, these are the coordinates by the reckoning of a seafarer like McGillus,” said Han.

  “The only other clue is ‘crying mother,’” said Talon.

  They went through the decrepit gate of the overgrown cemetery and searched the tombstones, most of which stood slanted and cracked. Some of the dates put them at over two hundred years old. Talon shuddered, thinking of the cold and lonely lot buried here. The practice of burying the dead was strange to him, for on Volnoss, both the Vald and Skomm burned their dead. To think that the body would be preserved after death only to be eaten by worms disturbed him.

  “There!” said Ash, so suddenly that Talon jumped with a start. “Crying mother. That’s got to be it.”

  Talon began running toward the tall statue of a winged female woman bent with sorrow.

  “Halt!” said Han. “They might have laid traps.”

  Talon froze and glanced around nervously.

  Han stabbed his shovel in the ground before him and crept along cautiously. The others, including Talon, followed suit.

  They found no traps, and were soon standing before the tall statue.

  “You want to do the honors?” Han asked.

  “Alright,” said Talon, unable to hide his grin. He stabbed the spade into the ground and began hurriedly tossing back the dirt.

  The others joined in. They dug a foot deep and six feet wide, then two feet deep, and three. All the while Talon’s excitement grew. Four feet down they hit a root, and for a moment Talon thought they had found the treasure. Seeing it for what it was, Talon chopped it in half and jumped down into the now eight-foot-wide plot. He dug to five feet, and then suddenly, his spade hit something solid.

  Talon threw his spade aside and began digging at the dirt with his fingers. He felt the round form beneath his hands and clawed at it, trying to get a look at the prize.

  “Some light!” said Han, and Flick produced his sword and spoke a word. To Talon’s amazement, it burst into flames.

  He turned his head from the blazing sword to the thing in his hands and let out a cry. The hollow eyes of a skull stared back at him.

  Talon leapt out of the hole and nearly knocked over Ash, but the sturdy dwarf quickly shot out his hands to steady him.

  “Feikinstafir!” said Talon, pacing circles beside the grave.

  “Aye, an unmarked grave be a curse upon the dead,” said Ash.

  “Pull him out of there and see what’s beneath,” said Han, and Flick leapt in without hesitation.

  What came out of the hole was mostly bones and ragged clothes, and Talon realized that this was the murder that Gill-Gammond must have been alluding to with his riddles. From what he had gathered from Gill, one of McGillus’s men and Gammond had stolen the treasure and buried it here, but only Gammond returned.

  Once the body was out of the hole, Talon jumped back in and joined Flick in his digging. After a few minutes, Flick’s shovel hit something that reverberated like wood might. Talon helped him to quickly remove the dirt, and his eyes went wide when he saw the makings of a small chest.

  “Well, what you got?” said Han. “What you got?”

  “I think this is it,” said Talon.

  He found an iron handle and pulled, but didn’t even budge the chest. Together with Flick he removed all the dirt around it, at which time Ash leapt into the hole and spit on his hands.

  “Step aside,” said the dwarf, crouching low and taking up both handles.

  Talon and Flick climbed out as Ash began to groan. He gave a cry and finally dislodged the chest and heaved it up to ground level.

  “Heavy sonofabitch that
is!” said Ash.

  The chest was covered in strange runes and writing Talon didn’t understand. There was a thick lock holding it closed, and Han bent to inspect it, calling for Flick’s light once more. The sword blazed, and they all saw how thick and formidable the lock appeared.

  “Flick, if you would do the honors,” said Han, gently pushing Talon back.

  “Yes sir,” said Flick, and brought his flaming sword down on the lock.

  There was a loud pop and a spark, and when Talon looked again, the lock lay broken on the ground.

  “Go on, open it,” said Ash, nudging Talon and staring with gleaming eyes at the chest.

  Talon forgot his suspicions and knelt before the chest. He soon reminded himself that something unpleasant might lie within, and slowly pulled back the lid. It gave way with a creek.

  “Feikinstafir,” said Talon as he laid eyes on what was inside.

  “Mother o’ Ky’Dren,” Ash whispered.

  In the chest, piled high atop one another, were the clearest, most luminescent diamonds that Talon could imagine. He had never actually seen a diamond, but he knew that these were large for precious stones. Some were as big as an apple, while others were the size of a pea. All told, there must have been hundreds.

  Ash reached into the chest and came away with a handful of diamonds, but Talon didn’t care. He too took one up and held it to the fire light.

  “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, Windwalker?” said Flick, marveling at the loot.

  “I had no idea…” he began, but trailed off, unable to speak for such beauty. It was as though the sunset was embodied within the sleek gems.

  “These…these be dwarven diamonds!” Ash suddenly blurted, returning to the chest and digging for the largest. He pulled out the biggest diamond and held it aloft, studying its edges.

  Talon became jealous as he watched the dwarf fondle his treasure, and reached to grab the diamond.

  Ash pulled it away. “This be dwarven make, I say! These be the Stones o’ Ky’Dren!”

  “The Stones of Ky’Dren?” Flick repeated dreamily, bringing his sword and flame closer.

  “You said that neither you nor your men had any claim over the loot,” said Talon, whirling around on Han.

  The man looked beyond him. “Are you sure?” he said to Ash.

  “Aye, General. These be the Stones O’ Ky’Dren, or I’m a bearded dragon.”

  “You have no claim to this treasure,” said Talon.

  Ash turned on him with watering eyes. “Aye, but the dwarves o’ Ky’Dren do. You be the rightful discoverer o’ the treasure, and so, as they say, finders be keepers, but I be implorin’ ye to sell it to the Ky’Dren dwarves.”

  Talon straightened. He felt foolish about his eagerness to defend the treasure with violence so quickly. “Sell it? How much is it worth?” he asked.

  “How much…” Ash began but choked on his own words. “It be worth more gold than ye can count.”

  Chapter 24

  The Dwarf Prince

  I often find myself wondering of those other paths, those other worlds of possibility. Surely I exist in other realms, surely we all do. What are the other versions of ourselves like? What have they accomplished that we never could? And the most important question of all, am I doing what I can to be the best version of myself?

  -Azzeal, Keeper of the Windwalker Archive

  Ash carried the heavy chest back to the camp and dropped it with a sigh of relief beside the fire. Talon had offered to help, but the dwarf wasn’t about to admit that he needed it. Haze landed and came over to the fire wide-eyed, looking slightly disappointed that he had missed the treasure hunt.

  “I can’t believe it! There was something to be found?” he said, kneeling beside Talon and the chest. “Well, let’s see.”

  Talon opened the chest disparagingly, and the shimmer of diamonds danced upon a shocked Haze’s face.

  “Holy shite…” he said dreamily.

  “Hell of a find, eh?” said Flick.

  “You’ve got next shift, Flick, get into the air,” said Han.

  “Yes sir.” Flick took one last gaze at the diamonds and mounted his silver hawk.

  Talon closed the lid, causing Haze to blink and scowl at him. But then he blinked again and shook his head and laughed.

  “You could fall into shite and come out smelling like lilies, couldn’t you, Windwalker?”

  “Treasure such as this is more often a curse. Just ask the man whose bones were guarding it,” said Han. “Get your heads clear and keep your eyes open. Until that chest is on the Skomm ship, we are on high alert. Talon, you and your wolf take first watch over the camp. You two get some sleep,” he told Haze and Ash.

  “Yes sir,” they said in unison, and Haze’s eyes lingered on the chest before he retired to his tent.

  Talon hated leaving it there like that, but he wasn’t about to take it with him. He told Chief to follow and walked the perimeter, where he could keep an eye on not only the surrounding forests, hills, and valleys, but the camp as well.

  All the while he tried to fathom the wealth that he had found. Should he cut the hawk riders in on some of it? Han had said that they did not have claim to or expect any of the treasure, but Talon found it hard to believe. He was so used to Vald, Vaka, pirates, and scoundrels that he half expected to find the camp clear when he got back. The riders needed only take it, and the treasure would be theirs.

  Knowing that he had no control over the matter, he let his mind return to scouring the woods and doing his job. Chief ran ahead and behind him, sniffing the ground and darting across the forest in a streak of light now and again.

  Talon thought he saw a shadow skitter across the ground more than once, and wondered if it had been Flick on his silver hawk. He searched the sky for any indication of the pair but found nothing.

  He shivered and thought of the dead man whose bones had been guarding the chest. Could his ghost be even now searching the cemetery for the treasure? It would have been easier for Talon to dismiss such imaginings if he himself didn’t have a ghost wolf patrolling the night.

  After what he guessed had been the allotted hour on patrol, Talon returned to the camp. He found the chest undisturbed, and Ash nodded to him as he came to sit at the fire.

  “Anything to report?” Han asked him, emerging from his tent and looking as though he had just taken an hour of sleep.

  “All’s quiet,” said Talon.

  “Good,” said Han. “Mind keeping the wolf out for the night?”

  “I’d planned on it,” said Talon, to which Han grinned and walked away, shaking his head.

  “You ain’t very trusting, is ye?” said Ash, handing him a flask.

  Talon glanced from the flask to Ash, not missing the irony. He took it and tossed back a shot, minding to taste the liquor before swallowing it back.

  Ash laughed at that and slapped Talon’s back so hard he nearly choked on the rum.

  “Even checkin’ the taste o’ offered booze to make sure it ain’t poisoned.”

  “Sorry,” said Talon, feeling foolish and ungrateful. “I’ve been robbed and poisoned by people who called me friend. Old habit I guess. I mean no offense.”

  “Well it be offensive,” said Ash seriously. “We riders got a code we do. And stealin’ ain’t a part o’ it.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Talon.

  Ash accepted the flask back and drank before handing it off once more.

  “You plan on selling the diamonds back to the Ky’Dren dwarves?” he asked suddenly, and Talon could tell it had been on his mind.

  “I will. But how do I go about it? I don’t know any dwarves, well…besides you.”

  “I can help to introduce you to the right ones,” said Ash.

  Talon took another swig and passed it back to Ash, wondering of the dwarf.

  “Tell me, what’s a Ky’Dren dwarf doing working for the hawk riders of Shierdon?”

  Ash seemed to stiffen. He tossed back another drink and
capped the flask. “I can’t sleep anyway. Gonna join Han in patrollin’ for a bit,” he said, getting up and shouldering his long halberd.

  “I’m sorry if I said something that made you uncomfortable,” said Talon, standing as well.

  “Nah,” said Ash, waving over his shoulder as he walked away. “That stump of a seat what made me uncomfortable.”

  Talon sighed and sat, watching him disappear into the woods.

  “Don’t expect a dwarf to warm up to you that quick,” said Haze, emerging from his tent.

  “I was just curious. He’s the first dwarf I’ve ever met.”

  “He’s a quiet one, if that can be said for any dwarf. Humble too. You’d never know that you were talking to a dwarf prince, would ya?”

  “Really? A prince?”

  “Yup,” said Haze, clearly enjoying Talon’s amazement. “He’s of the line of Ky’Dren. Can even move stone with his mind. Just don’t ever ask him to show you.”

  “Feikinstafir…” Talon mumbled.

  “Aye, feikinstafir. I like that.”

  “If he’s dwarven royalty, what’s he doing here?”

  “That there’s the sore spot of his story. Word says that he accidently killed his brother in a mining accident. In his grief he exiled himself. Han found him shite-faced in a tavern in Brindon. It seems as though he had taken on half the bar—and was winning. Han challenged him to a duel and won. Since then, them two’ve been thick as thieves.”

  “How the hells did Han beat Ash if he can control stone? And aren’t dwarves five times stronger than humans?”

  “Sure, but ole Han’s got a trick or two up his sleeve.”

  “Does he have more than one magical item?”

  “Of course he does. The pendant on his neck. It heals you as quick as you’re injured. Said he got it off an elven princess who fell in love with him.”

  Talon suddenly straightened, thinking of Zilena. “An elf princess?” he said, trying to laugh convincingly.

  “Yup,” said Haze. “Names Zillera or something.”