The Exodus Sagas: Book II - Of Dragons And Crowns

by Jason R Jones

  “Men, you stay in formation and protect the left center and flank. We will take the right. Archers, continue to fire to the sides to prevent any surround. When you are out of arrows, draw blades and protect the wizard and the horses. Cut them down quickly, Alden have mercy.” Lord Cristoff raised his sword, feeling the pull of his heavy armor and shield, and waited for the moment to order them to fire. He heard the dwarf praying in his native tongue and saw him take a knee and rest his shaved head on the head of his warhammer. Cristoff looked to his right and noticed James with eyes closed whispering something as his blade touched his face in some form of a salute. Shinayne was standing straight, turned to the side, blades low, poised and ready. He glanced at Saberrak who was crouched low with his weapons crossed in front of his horns, staring at the edge of the plateau. The Lord of Saint Erinsburg looked behind, above and past Gwenne. He noticed an opening, manmade for certain maybe four or five hundred feet up the steep summit. It was a carved stone entrance, a perfect semicircle of dark stone engraved into the mountainside. Cristoff looked harder, seeing trees of strange giant leaves arranged in rows in front of the fifty foot high cavern opening.

  “Where is the scroll?” asked the noble lord as he looked at the small formation about to stand against far too great a force.

  “I gave it to Zen to keep protected under his armor. Why?” the minotaur huffed quietly, not wanting to be distracted as he heard the clawing and trampling of the score of lizardmen nearing the edge.

  “If this does not go well Zen, there is a cavern entrance above us five hundred feet. Get the scroll inside there before it is too late.” seeing the black reptilian heads of at least thirty salisans climb over the ledge, spears and small blades in their clawed hands, Cristoff cut down with his swordarm for his men to fire.

  Before any arrows landed into the first wave of lizardmen hunters, a scorching blast of white heat, followed by three more, sizzled through the air overhead. Four salisans screamed out in pain as their midnight scales erupted in flames then fell down off the cliff in trails of smoke. Gwenne raised her staff after her arcane blasts had done their work, and summoned a protective barrier around the plateau. Just in time, as spears tipped with poison floundered through the watery magic wall and fell harmlessly all around the warriors prepared to fight.

  The archers fired into the mass of advancing lizardmen, a few falling to the ground only to be trampled and climbed over by their kin as they charged the sixteen on the plateau with just under a hundred remaining. Saberrak moved first, charging forward and impaling one creature on his horns, then sweeping with his greataxe into the flank of another. His muscles tightened as his slashed the curved shamshir across the neck of a third salisan warrior. The lizard hunters thrust spears at him, and clawed up at the towering minotaur, who now had their red blood all over him from brutal swings of his weapons. His scale armor saw its first battle scars, deflecting many spearheads and dagger cuts. Two brave salisans jumped on top of him, while a third charged him from the front in an attempt to topple the horned gladiator.

  As the black scaled salisan hunters swarmed over the edge, the archers released their arrows, one after another into the mass of reptilian adversaries. One of the bowmen drew his shortblade and withdrew to stand next to Gwenneth Lazlette, as he was quickly out of arrows. “I will stand to protect you, Lady Lazlette.”

  “I do not think I will be needing any, soldier.” Gwenne raised her hand, concentrating on the arcane barrier still, and directed her palm at a charging salisan. “Grimvalim tesraunim cavail!” the air around the creature filled with black mist for a moment, leaving the lizardman frozen in place, unmoving and still. Slowly over the next few seconds, it turned into gray stone, then ash.

  “Well then, you can protect me.” the young soldier stood closer to the black robed wizard, just in case anything would happen to get past her spells.

  Cristoff’s men stepped forward with their lord, shields forward and stance low as a wave of triple their number crashed into them with spear, dagger, and hissing bites. They stood tight together, Cristoff in the middle for cover. The veteran lord cut across the soft abdomen of a salisan in front of him, then turned his wrist up, slashing through the neck of another. His men began to attack, blocking poisoned spears with their oval steel shields, then plunging longswords into the horde of lizardmen that were driving them back from the ledge.

  Azenairk swung his warhammer, it thudded into the spine of a scaled creature that was on top of the minotaur. It fell to the ground, hissing and cursing in some snake-like language. Zen put his heavy boot on its throat to stop the noise, then pounded his weapon down, caving in the skull on the salisan. The dwarven priest of Vundren swung again at one of the black lizard spawn that had begun to swarm and tear into Saberrak. Twice his hammer cracked bone and scales before it let go. Claws and fangs scratched over his shield in rage, and the dwarf felt his head bleeding and burning. The dwarf rolled backward, the creature with him. He let loose his shield as he rose from the ground, leaving his enemy flat on its back holding the shield. He cracked down on the salisans knee, and its head shot forth from the pain of shattered bone. Before the screeching hiss issued, Zen placed two hands on the shaft of his weapon and struck its skull so hard the neck snapped from the blow. He reached to get his shield from the dead salisan then felt the sharp pain of a speartip in his forearm. He pulled the crude wooden weapon from his arm, it having pierced his steel plate at just the right spot. He threw it to the ground, picked up his shield, and looked for the beast that had just speared him. Zen shook his head, feeling a bit dizzy all the sudden in the middle of the battle.

  James deflected another spear attack, then another, barely keeping up with the mass that had begun to surround he and Shinayne to the right of the flat ground. The knight of Chazzrynn felt vulnerable without his shield, yet seeing the elven swordswoman slicing through many salisans at his side reinforced his courage. He parried another spear thrust and countered with a thrust into the lizardmans chest. As he withdrew his blade, covered in blood, he ducked a dagger cut and claw swipe from another creature. His crimson-soaked blade pulled out of his enemy’s ribs in time to parry and unexpected spear thrust; the griffon wing crosspiece of his former lord’s sword caught the attack inches from his neck. His broadsword thrust forward, piercing the scales of one salisans chest, his left hand grabbed the spear from another. James Andellis slashed across the face then the stomach of the black scaled beast, sending it hissing off of the cliff. He threw the spear at a third salisan warrior and the tip buried deep above its groin. He turned to see many more than he could count advancing on him and Shinayne, and then a human man behind them, cloaked in black. James kept fighting the overwhelming numbers of reptile savages as they passed through the shimmering barrier of magical force, and held back his impulses to withdraw.

  Two blades pulled fee of the falling salisan, leaving his body falling limp at her feet. Shinayne’s curved longblade parried a spear thrust, then her shortblade split the creature wide open across the lower abdomen. Before it could hiss out in pain, the elven longsword cut through its neck and the head dropped to the ground next to many of its dead kin. Lady T’Sarrin spun low, cleaving two scaled savages at the knees. She had noticed the silent human stalking toward her up the side of the mountain, and also the way his hands rested on his pommels as he walked. She knew who it was, and was determined to get to him before he reached the plateau. Her boot heel kicked one of the injured salisans down, providing her with a jumping off point. She stepped back, then rapidly dashed on top of the backs of her fallen enemies and sprung through the air off of the ledge. Shinayne landed with a tucked roll far below her allies. On the side of the mountain, only she, two salisan warriors, and Alec Silverblade stood facing each other.

  “Your face is prettier than I remember. I assume you wish another lesson?” the elven noble circled her three adversaries, staring at the scarred human she had kicked into the bay only three nights ago.

  “Vimm, rip he
r legs off, but leave me the face.” Alec Silverblade drew his rapier and shortblade as the savage salisan leader and his best warrior charged the elf.

  Cristoff pulled his longsword from the lizardmans mouth where he had plunged it through the back of its head. He backed up two steps and glanced around. He saw stone statues of salisans around Gwenne, yet his archers were all dead but one, swarmed with the enemy. He had lost three of his men here despite the pile of scaled corpses they had sent down the cliff. The minotaur had backed up from the edge, a score of bodies scattered around him. Saberrak’s body was covered in blood and wounds, still fighting the beasts as they tried to drag him down to the ground. James was withdrawing, swinging wildly on the right flank at more reptilian warriors that streamed toward him. The Lord of Saint Erinsburg did not see the elf anywhere, yet he saw at least fifty that had begun to surround and push them back. He looked up the mountain behind him, and spotted Zen climbing, stumbling, then climbing again as if he were drunk, scroll in hand and being pursued by two salisans. More flaming projectiles of white heat seared past Cristoff’s head and into the lizardmen as Gwenne continued to unleash arcane fury upon the horde.

  “Fall back! Retreat up the mountain! Leave the horses, get to the summit, now!” the noble lord knew that being surrounded would be the end. They could fight at the edge of the cliff and have advantage, but there were too many, and they had been overrun on the left flank and lost their archers. The veteran of many wars, Cristoff knew when the battleground was lost.

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  Sweat poured from every part of Azenairk’s body, the poison coursing through his veins. His breath was short, and he knew he was being chased up the slope at the top of the mountain. Blue and green flashes of light dulled his vision and his stomach felt cold on the inside. Chills swept through his bones, followed by heat in his chest that nearly forced him to fall. The dwarven priest of Vundren pushed on, his warhammer used as a crutch to keep him upright as he ran. He saw tall trees in rows on the right and left of a pond, a stone encircled pond that was far from natural this high on a mountain. The trees were at least a hundred feet high, dark brown bark that swirled around the trunks, and flat green leaves of enormous size far above. Zen felt smaller now more than ever before upon seeing this courtyard with an engraved stone entrance into the side of the rock face. It too was magnificent, half a circle fifty or more feet high, carved with symbols of dragons and leaves and wreaths of vine. The tip of the mountain above him, he tried to stay conscious.

  Azenairk fell to a knee, dropped his shield into the pool, and fell to his chest. He could faintly hear the sound of hissing salisans behind him, his hearing coming and going with the cold chills. With whatever strength he could muster, the dwarf pushed himself up to his knees, then to his feet. He turned to see the two lizardmen rushing toward him, his vision blurry and strange in color. His steel warhammer weighed a thousand pounds it seemed, but he lifted it with both hands. Taking aim, he saw his friends withdrawing far below, swarmed with enemies they could not defeat. The lizard closed in, and he swung the desperate swing of a dying dwarf.

  The black reptilian hunter ducked under the blow, and leapt onto his prey, sending the two rolling to the ground. Zen’s heavy plate armor crushed the lizard warrior to the earth, and the dwarf raised his warhammer with both hands, eyes closed. He heard the sound of cracking skull, and smashed down again and again until the movement from under his legs stopped. He opened his eyes in time to be face to face with the second salisan. He felt the dagger dig deep into his side, and felt the cold steel pull out of him as the creature went for his throat. The last of the Thalanaxe family reached out and grabbed the scaly warrior by the throat first, squeezed, and threw it into the pond. “Aaarrhh!” he had been cut deep, poisoned, his body needed something to continue.

  After the splash, Zen began to stumble toward the entrance again, now feeling his hot blood cool and dampen down his left side. One eye open, the dwarf staggered into the entrance into whatever lay in the mountain. It was dark, yet he saw glimmers of light far ahead and down. His blurred vision could make out immense stairs that led down where two torches burned. His eyes were accustomed to the dark, yet as the poison coursed he could only make out a few stalagmites in the gargantuan cavern. He heard movement from behind him, he knew that the salisan was out of the pool and following him into the cavern. The sound of battle and magical blasts continued far behind him down the mountainside. Azenairk’s warhammer fell to the stone floor, his hand could not hold it any longer, and he fell after it. He heard footsteps and the drag of a tail, the shadow of the lizardman savage stretched out from the entrance, casting him in darkness.

  Zen reached for the scroll under his breastplate, pulled it out and tossed it far into the dark of the cavern from where he lay. “Vundren, bless me and take me to the mountain of my family. Bring me the grace and honor you bore me with, and allow me to keep it in death. Have I not lived to your wishes, or that of my people, forgive me.” the black scaled salisan knelt down over the dwarf, its orange eyes shining in the dark as it grabbed Zen’s black beard with its clawed hand and raised his chin. It smiled, weaving the dagger back and forth as it saw the outstretched neck of its prey. “And if it be your will Vundren, take this bastard with me, so I may battle him in your divine halls within the great mountain.” he closed his eyes and prepared to die, unable to respond to the murderous reptile that held him helpless as the poison worked his body. He tried to raise an arm, to move at all, but he could not.

  The creature looked up, both of them heard the heavy breathing and steps that were far too loud for anything human. Red eyes illuminated the cavern, reptilian eyes as big as a horse, and the roar that followed shook the stone and caused the salisan to urinate on the dwarf he was about to kill. Faster than a blink of an eye, the reptilian killer was gone, followed by a flash of movement, and a guttural crunching of bones and flesh. Muffled hisses followed by the clanging of the steel dagger on the stone ground were all the dwarf heard beyond the chewing. He strained to look up, shaking from the poison and the cold chills as a result of his wound losing so much blood. His breath was short, but he held it in as he tried to sit up before he was also eaten.

  “Durum thim adrol eckix moorest vyrr?” the deep resonating voice asked a question, that much he knew, and the voice was feminine and soft yet deep. The eyes were inches from his face, glowing red with silver lines and a silvery black slivered pupil. Zen stared, as it looked like glowing rubies with etchings of silver veins, and the proximity cast warmth around him as if the eyes radiated heat.

  “I don’t know what you just said, but it sounded pleasant, m’lady. I sure hope yer Ansharr, I hope ya don’t eat me, and I hope you can help my friends.” Zen fell back down, dizzy and swooning. A pool of blood had collected under him from his punctured side.

  “Why are you here, dwarf? What trouble have you brought to my mountain?” the dragon responded in the darkness of her cavern at the summit of the mountain, sniffing and observing the armored dwarf in her home. She spoke in perfect Agarian, realizing that this dwarf obviously could not know her native tongue. She smelled his blood, his sweat, and even detected the poison in his veins.

  “The scroll…of Annar…the salisan army…Kalzarius sent us…to Ansharr…my friends-“ his voice stopped, his breath going into a deep comatose state as he bled out on the stone. The last thing he saw was the claw of the dragon touch his head, dark red scales gently caressed in the dark, and golden light surrounded him. He felt warm, cleansed, free of pain and very tired. Azenairk closed his eyes and drifted off into a warm place of the unknown as the dragon carefully walked past him and out the engraved opening. All went still and black.

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  Shinayne stepped over the salisan warrior’s black scaled corpse, blades free of it’s chest, and strode toward the one Alec had called Vimm. She saw many scars, necklaces of bones and teeth, and a confident poise in the way he held his spear. The elven swordsw
oman looked past the slaisan chieftain and saw Alec circling to the right, moving to flank her. She could hear the sounds of battle getting further away, and had heard Cristoff’s order to retreat. She had no choice now but to face off against these two that led the hunt against them. Her steps moved quickly to the left, keeping the reptilian leader inbetween her and the scarred agent of the White Spider, safely away from the remaining scaled horde that pursued her friends.

  The spear shot forward, a two handed lunge aimed at her chest which Shinayne simply turned aside to avoid. A second thrust, and another sidestep, then a third. The elven woman was antagonizing the veteran salisan warrior, hoping he would charge in before the young swordsman of Harlaheim got into position behind her. Vimm dove forward, feinting with the spear and drawing a bone dagger with his right hand. Shinayne parried them both, blades connecting with the spear and dagger of her savage opponent. She feigned to retreat back, moving downhill quickly then stopping abruptly. The momentum of the lizardman carried him sliding forward down the slope at the elf as he tried to stop. His spear and dagger arced out at her in a vicious double strike as he went past. Shinayne stepped to the left, her footing sure and solid, and ducked under the spear. As Vimm slid by, she cut upward with both weapons, then turned and walked up toward Alec Silverblade.

  The young agent swordsman waited for Vimm to stand back up from his slip, so they could take her together. Vimm stood up, and looked at the back of the beautiful elven woman as she walked toward the human. The salisan felt his neck and right arm, then felt the blood pour out of the two razor sharp deep lacerations. He took a step forward then fell face first into a pine tree and slid into darkness. His throat cut clean through on each side unbeknownst to him, only a small hiss escaped as he fell onto the mountainside awaiting death.