The Exodus Sagas: Book II - Of Dragons And Crowns

by Jason R Jones

  There was a long pause, the old wizard stroking his long gray beard and the young woman pacing, her thoughts on what would happen if. They looked at each other for an eternity, broken finally by the opening of the heavy wooden doors to the study. The rush of air fluttered Gwenne’s black robes with golden trim, and loosed her hair once again. Thankfully, it also put out the candles before her hair was singed for the tenth time.

  Saberrak walked in, much as he always did, little concern for pleasantries. His metal scale armor form fitting and shining and his intimidating minotaur prowess from behind the horns and tattoos thereof under his eyes radiated through the chamber. The dwarven priest stomped behind him in his heavy steel plate adorned with his hammer and moons etchings, his black beard trim and head shaved as always. James followed them in, dressed in his chainmail, white tabard with the red feathered cross, and blue sash of knighthood draped from shoulder guards of steel adorned with black falconheads. They each gave their respectful bows to Kalzarius and Gwenneth as they passed the entrance.

  “Vundren be praised, are you done?” Azenairk’s blue eyes lit up, hoping to be able to leave soon. He cared not where, but even his friends noticed his anxiety this last week. He knew he had to find his way west for his father eventually, yet there was something about this scroll that made him nervous. A feeling in his daily prayers, a sense of divine inspiration in the air, something overwhelming that had him wanting to leave. The scroll has nothing to do with dwarven religion, nothing at all, he thought. He knew that he held a key, his heirloom, to a great place far from here and wished to commence that direction at least instead of waiting to be trapped by the multitude of cutthroats here in Harlaheim. He, Saberrak, and James had been waiting, eavesdraopping at the door for some time now. It was hard to decide who was more impatient.

  “Not quite Zen, but today or tomorrow for certain. James, how did your meeting with Lord Savanno fare us? Do we have his backing and that of the Order of Saint Tarumin?” the old arcane professor watched the silent minotaur while conversing with the others. He saw the bovine glare to the scroll, like they were speaking, the scroll and the minotaur.

  “The Lord Knight Errant of Harlaheim is most definitely on our side, excited and anxious at the findings, yes. The Order is a bit more complex, but he and I feel that their support of secrecy is ours as well.” the Knight of Chazzrynn bowed again, very content and at peace with all of his meetings and diplomatic endeavors as of late, save for those of the knights loyal to the king that had not given him even a hint of notice. “In fact, Sir Savanno Lisario is planning on arriving this morn, he wishes to see the scroll for himself.”

  “I am sure he does. Probably wants it for himself like every other human we meet. No offense to old wizards.” Saberrak snorted, looking at the blue mist of light that rose from the pages unrolled across the table. He had been having trouble staying away from the scroll the last week, checking in several times per day. Something was drawing him to it, and whatever it was, he did not care for it.

  “No offense taken Saberrak, none at all. I am quite aware of what you have been through to keep this relic and deliver it here. I am sure your trust in men is diminished.” Kalzarius lifted the smooth mottled stone cylinder that the parchment had been wrapped around. “Do tell me though, can you describe the man that gave this to you?”

  James listened, Zen stared, Gwenne rolled her eyes, and none of them noticed Shinayne as she slipped into the chamber. The elven noble had met Sir Savanno and the Bishop in the great hall below as she had been heading for rest. Denied again by pressing matters, she was about to inform Kalzarius. This recollection from the horned warrior seemed more interesting to her for the moment.

  The gray gladiator recounted his escape from Unlinn and his battles with other minotaurs along the way. He described the dark stone chamber, vast and open, somewhere between the slave city and the surface of the lost city of Arouland as he came to know it. James’ blue eyes beamed with intensity as he spoke of the trolls that were tearing this man there with their claws, but not leaving a mark. “And after I killed them, these blue eyes from under his long hair and beard simply called to me, and I could not stop looking. He was as big as me, fit and healthy besides ages of dirt. The chains were thick enough for a giant, but his eyes glowed that blue, inhuman and strong, and soothed me. I cut his chains, strong as they were, and again he just stared. It was the strangest thing, for he did not speak. I blinked after, I am not sure how long, and when I opened my eyes he was gone. My wounds were healed, and there was this scroll in my hand. That was it.”

  Everyone stood in awe, looking at the scroll, then to the minotaur, then to Kalzarius. James could not have described the man better, having seen the same thing thirteen years prior, in the same exact place, and twice since then. He had accepted the last wo sightings a personal affect of his troubles with the wine, or lack thereof, and kept them to himself. “Impossible.” The knight shook his head.

  “No, James Andellis, it is not.” the wizard nodded toward the man at the door, realizing it was the Lord Knight Errant of Harlaheim. He motioned for the lord to enter, and continued with his lecture.

  Savanno bowed to all present, deep and sweeping as was etiquette in Harlaheim. His head and face bearing a slight dash of gray stubble from his pious trimming, and his decorated uniform impeccable. All was shining on this lord, from polished black high boots, to his brass handled rapier, even his bracers and chainmail were shining from oil and care. The gold trimmed tabard was of thin leather, black with the gold crown and rose emblem through it that was the crest of the kingdom he served. Unlike most lords of the realm, Savanno did wear a white armband with the red feathered cross of Alden to show his faith and devotion to the God of Mercy and Heaven as being above his loyalty to the throne.

  “Greetings Kalzarius, and the rest of you. It is an honor.” His voice was soft and genuine. “I am Lord Knight Errant Savanno Lisario, thank you for permitting me. The Bishop waits downstairs, but please, continue.” his sincerity was barely more than his excitement, as his brown eyes widened seeing the blue light emitting from the age old paper. He had heard much of Saberrak the gray minotaur, Lady Shinayne, and Gwenneth Lazlette. Savanno had the recent pleasures of long talks with Azeanairk Thalanaxe and the Knight James Andellis as well. Kalzarius was an old friend of his father who had passed years ago, so the Lord Knight Errant, highest of all the knighted in Harlaheim, felt very much at home among those present. He longed to hear the tales, the mystery, and the words of those that had found the lost brother to Alden, and a scroll written of his own flesh and blood.

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  Bishop Javiel paced patiently, his white robes with red trim and the feathered cross on its front and back flowed behind his steps. Older, but not elderly like his wizardly rival Kalzarius, his patience had limits. It had been over an hour, perhaps not, yet he looked in one of the ornate mirrors at himself. White beard neatly trimmed, his shaved head full of a week’s stubble, and his ordained robes were perfect as always. In the king’s court at L’Herrim he was made to wait, often he was overlooked at the Aldane meetings due to the politics and reputation of Harlaheim. Far too common was it that he felt that his title of Bishop held little weight, and now he was waiting to see a holy relic of religious importance. If it were the Cardinal here, they would have waited for him, not the other way around. Javiel felt anger, being the last in line to be invited to view and discuss an ancient text that had to do with his religion more than any wizard or band of fugitives from the south. He started to walk up the stairs, slowly, not waiting for the guards or an escort. I am the Bishop of Harlaheim, of the church of God Alden for the entire capital, and I will not wait for the beckon of Kalzarius or an invite of a dwarf to see this relic of Annar, brother of the Lord of Heaven, he thought. Savanno had gone up with the elf, yet Javiel had waited. Kalzarius should have come to greet him, should have shown him respect.

  He reached the nineteenth floor, tired and sweating in his l
ayers of robes and holy attire. The doors were cracked open just a finger width, light flooding the dark stairwell. Bishop Javiel approached the doors, but stopped, hearing the old wizard speaking of religious histories. He wished to see how much the old man really knew, and watched from his hidden position outside the study. His temper was not cooling, for it should have been he discussing such things. He felt it only the right of the church to have priority in the research and analysis of such an artifact. The Bishop did not enter, he merely watched and listened, the others unaware of his presence. A minotaur, an elf, a heathen priest, a foreign knight, two wizards, and the Lord Knight Errant, all before me in a matter of holy scripture, he fumed.

  “…and we have found in those examinations, that indeed this parchment is made of compressed skin. The writing was done with a fingernail and blood, and the words in the ancient Carician and Altestani tongues dating back over four thousand years at the start. They finish, in the same style of writing, less than a century ago.” Kalzarius paused, seeing many confused looks from all, especially James.

  “That is not possible. No man could sustain himself that long, even with magicks of the arcane, you must be incorrect Kalzarius.” Savanno spoke softly, respectfully.

  “It was no man, Lord Savanno. It was Annar, brother to Alden. It was Annar who was cast beneath the realms of the earth for standing over his brother Alden when Yjaros had his wings torn from him for loving mankind. The Aldane histories teach us of the Lord of Heaven, and his journey or an exodus of sorts that led him and man to heaven after the rival Gimmorian angels desecrated him. Much of the works of old speak of Megos, their father, and other angels or Gods of note. The revisions of newer texts have simply-“

  “This is dangerous talk, old friend. Men would burn for this if it were to be spoken aloud.” Savanno continued to whisper, intrigued, but worried.

  “Dangerous only to the church, the church that has rewritten their own texts and histories to focus on Alden as God. The Altestani worship Yjaros, the one God, who condemned all the others they say, Alden included. This scroll speaks of Cancuru and Shukuru as wicked guardians for God, and the enforcers of his will, not the poetic winged creatures that guard the path to the afterlife the northerners paint them as. It says for their deeds upon Alden, they were rewarded with hell and the lands of the dead to do with as they wished. Now that, would not only set turmoil in the Aldane, but in the great empire of the northern kingdoms as well.” Kalzarius loved debate on history, especially when he had ground to stand upon.

  “This scroll mentions devils and demons, mixes angels and old Gods of stories. Just stories Kalzarius, the truth lies in Alden, Lord of Heaven, not in this old parchment.” Lord Savanno was pacing, reading what he could of the ancient scroll from his years in the church.

  “It mentions Alden, right here, the whole story. Just from a point of view that the church does not want you to know of, could not know of. Not the church of the old world, and not ours here on Agara.” the old wizard rested, feeling the talks getting too heated for his taste.

  The others watched and listened, seeing the blue mist rising inches off the parchment now. Azenairk thought of how difficult human religion must be, and was glad to be a devout worshipper of Vundren, God of the mountains and only choice for his race. It seemed simpler than all this historical argument. For him, God was God, and there was little room for interpretation.

  James looked at Saberrak, who looked at the scroll. Gwenneth listened intently to her old teacher, and watched the blue light rise, wondering what it could mean. Shinayne felt something, her elven senses certain they were not alone. Whether it was the scroll, the light, or someone nearby, she could not discern.

  “Kalzarius, you know this cannot stay in Harlaheim. Too many eyes and ears are waiting, many of them will not side with you and will wish to take it.” the Lord Knight Errant resigned, running his fingers over the blue light, feeling something powerful and peaceful, something pure. “I believe you, why I do not know. But I see this scroll, I feel it. What would you ask of me and the Order of Saint Tarumin?”

  “Keep them and the scroll actually protected. I will send them to Ansharr, to Soujan Mountain in the northeast, it will be safe there for all time.” the wizard noticed something move by the doors and raised his hand, cautioning the others. Swords drew from James and Shinayne, and everyone turned. The lights from the staves of the wizards glowed gold and red with protective magicks readied.

  “Protected from who, Kalzarius?” Bishop Javiel pushed open one of the heavy doors, outraged at what he had heard already. “The church? Perhaps the king? Explain to me why you and the Lord Knight Errant, of a religious order, would conspire to keep such a relic secret?”

  “You were invited here, Javiel. Do not bring your rhetoric and title into this room, we need to discuss-“ Kalzarius was cut off.

  “Oh, I was invited, yes. While you and a group of fugitives plan your schemes and speak blasphemy from a heretic scroll full of lies about my faith! The Cardinal will hear of this upon his return, I will ensure that.” his anger reddened his face and his voice boomed in the study.

  Saberrak loosed his greataxe and stared at the Bishop, his eyes focusing on burning a hole through the man in the robes. “It is mine, priest. I choose where and with whom it goes. It was given to me, so I would suggest you back down if you know what is good for you.” his breath huffed out like no idle threat.

  “Threatened, threatened by a horned beast! Savanno, you should have these criminals arrested for such words and deceptions. Not only do you read from a sacrilegious parchment as if it were the Aldane truth, you surround yourself with killers and heathens. I am the Bishop of Harlaheim! The king shall-“

  “Shall what, Javiel?” Savanno spoke loudly, defiantly at the unreasonable man. “The king will hear of this only if you decide to glorify your name by condemning what you have not peacefully investigated!”

  “I will investigate it, in the holy church, alone!” Javiel walked toward the table, intent on taking the scroll.

  Shinayne, James, Savanno, and Azenairk stepped in front of the Bishop at once. Gwenneth stood next to Kalzarius, both wizards realizing that contending with the church was not a wise choice, they kept their gaze lowered. Saberrak turned toward the table and set his axe to lean against it.

  “I think not. A slave freed a slave for this, and you will not take it. But thank you for proving to me once again, Bishop, that human men are- Crack, caroom, thunder shook the tower from outside on a clear morning. As the minotaur’s hand touched the glowing blue parchment his words stopped. He was knocked to his knees from the flash of light. Too bright to see anything but blue, with eyes open or shut, Saberrak shook and trembled, unable to rise to his feet. More thunder rose from the morning air, with no point of origin on any horizon. All was still, no one moved nor breathed. The horned warrior rose to his feet, using the table for support. Blue mist rising from his body, his ears ringing as if the thunder had issued from his own head. He turned to the left to see what had happened, slowly, as his body did not seem to have the ability to move quickly. He opened his eyes, and all was hued in a strange blue light. Saberrak looked at his friends, the wizard, the bishop, and the Lord, all of their mouths open and eyes wide. James, the Bishop, and Savanno dropped to their knees in silent prayer for something, while the unblinking eyes of the others remained focused on the blue glowing eyes of the minotaur, and the blue mist that still flowed from the scroll to his very breath. Like a stream on the air, noises snuffed out from existence, radiant energies swirled into Saberrak the gray.

  The light faded, perhaps minutes had passed, still no one dared move as the thunder fell quieter in the distance. Shinayne watched as the scroll lost its illuminations, as did the eyes of her horned friend. Azenairk reached out and touched Saberrak’s arm, now that the trembling had ceased, making sure he was still really there. James and Savanno rose to their feet, in wonder and fear of what had just occurred. The wizards felt the energies around them
with their arcane senses, both glancing at one another in bewilderment, neither one saying anything.

  “Witchcraft and heathen rituals!” Bishop Javiel whispered in fear, still unnerved and trembling himself. “King Richmond and Queen Rosana will here of this, I swear to you.” down the stairs he ran, not sure if a curse of hell or a pagan miracle had just unleashed. His anger that it was a horned beast in Kalzarius’ tower that should be involved with such mystery sickened him. That scroll will be mine, and Kalzarius will burn for his treasons against the church and the king, he vowed.

  “What was that, old man?” Saberrak spoke quietly, squeezing his fists tight then releasing. His vision was normal again, yet his breathing felt tingly.

  “I do not know, Saberrak of Unlinn. However, it looks like the glow has gone from the scroll.” Kalzarius began to roll the parchment back on the stone. “It was not anything of the arcane and I do not know how it triggered either. I assure you, it was not my doing, but what raw power just entered your body is nothing short of miraculous. The incantations were readied, but you did not speak one word in the Altestani tongue to release what we had thought lay inside. I have no answers, only concerns now, my horned aquaintence.”

  “I will go to the king and meet the bishop there to try and discourage any inquisition.” Sir Savanno still stared at the minotaur, not sure what he had seen, but knowing what he had felt.