The Last Pantheon: of spiders and falcons

by Jason Jones

  “Hurry up, elf. Hurry. You have to get to Southwind Keep, to get my scroll, that’s where they went. I have seen it in the crystal. I have research to do here. Hurry up.” His impatience was growing like a century old child with new toys.

  The Nadderi walked down the stairs to give the spoils of yet another hunt to this foul wretch he had dealt with for far too long. He signaled the trolls to bring the wagons forward and unload.

  “The satyr has an enchanted blade, fey trappings, it is of no use to me, so melt it down. Six women, human of course, and three men. They refuse to eat, but they are alive. Also, I have three wagons full of antique coin, books, scrolls, and other useless junk you may enjoy.”

  ”Useless to you, not to me.” The winds whipped the burial shrouds around Salah Cam, yet he seemed not to care.

  “Are you not cold?” Kendari put his cloak up over his head, watching the trolls shiver and unload to the floors and the prison below the crumbling tower.

  “No, I am close, so close. I have not eaten in weeks, I no longer need to. Cold and warmth, sleep, these things are vanishing, Kendari. Almost there.” Salah smiled as his loose flesh folded around his face.

  “Maybe, just a thought, you are dead already. Smells like it.”

  “Make your jests, go ahead. The archmages of old found ways, as have I. You may be old, my cursed friend, but I will be eternal.”

  “And this is all for what? To take Chazzrynn?”

  “No, you think too small, pointy eared one. I shall walk the halls of those that practice the arts, eternal and immortal, and I will learn all there ever was. Then, my name will be forever written upon those towers.” Salah Cam stared at the satyr as he was drug by a troll from the wagon to the tower cages underneath.

  “You are mad, you know this, I assume.”

  “Oh yes, yes I know.”

  “I need rest, over a month with no sleep.” Kendari turned toward the tower.

  “I will be busy, draining these---“

  “I do not need to hear it.”

  Salah Cam turned and smiled to the Nadderi, pointing his blackened finger. The wolf growled by his side. “You have been marked by your kin, for murders and atrocities, and sold your soul to the darkest of demons, Kendari. Do not try to place your damned soul above what I do. At least I have a purpose, dark as it is.”

  “It is not the killing, it is the lack of challenge I abhor. You prey upon the weak, the imprisoned, perhaps if they had a fighting chance to---”

  “And you bring them to me.”

  “Yes, I hunt them, and I kill, with skill and art.”

  “You are a butcher, just like me, and you take the spoils the same.”

  “Perhaps it is the danger.” Kendari rubbed his eyes, weariness setting in. His mood would not allow further argument. The warmth of the tower called to him.

  “Is that it? Well then, rest, for that scroll I saw will provide plenty of danger.”

  Exodus I:IV

  Southwind Keep

  Chazzrynn

  “And he is a deserter and a coward, you know it and I know it. Allowing, no, inviting him here is an insult to our father and all the knights of Southwind that lost their lives. Did you see our dead father's sword on his hip? Do you care? We are shaming ourselves, right now, this moment brother!”

  Kaya’s words were daggers into the softening stone of Alexei’s composure. The meeting hall where the orphan family leaders would gather was still and cold despite the fire brewing inside the Lady of Southwind and her twin.

  “They have been hunted, starved, chased, lost friends, and seek solace here after bravely standing against the ogre! Who am I to put them in the cold, or tarnish our good name with rivalry from our childhood? What sort of Lord does that paint me to be, Kaya?”

  “One that respects his people. A Lord that stands for loyalty and honor, not for deserters and winos. One who respects his sister and family over the needs of vagabond travelers, especially ones who travel with James Andellis!” Her steel blue eyes were full of tears, more anger than sadness, more emotion and manipulation that common sense or compassion.

  “I sent them food, a warm room in the keep, servants to clean them up. They need supplies, they need a rest, Kaya. Most of all they need time to plan their next move. As they said, they are traveling east for some reason, looking for a lost satyr. They are being followed by ogre that want the minotaur back. There is no slavery in Chazzrynn, so providing that beast a reprieve is what a lord would do. I don’t wish to be the reason for their fate, should it be a dark one, and any chance to stand against the ogre, I will take.”

  “How do you know those things? Have you spoken with them without me knowing?” Kaya’s anger spilled out more with every attempt he made at explaining.

  “No sister. I had Evril listen in on their discussion in the common room. James’ tongue loosened after his second bottle of wine from the cellars.” Alexei T’Vellon closed his eyes and hung his head, knowing his actions were less than completely honorable.

  “So you gave wine to the drunk, spied on him and his companions, and then speak to me of honor and lordly hospitality? That is what I despise the most, brother. You say one thing, do another, and keep your plans hidden from me the whole time.” Kaya was trying her best not to show interest, putting the anger first, yet inside she was starving to know more about who was hunting them and what had transpired to bring them to their door. That information could prove valuable someday, and Kaya had a passion for details and coin.

  “I did it to protect us, sister. I need, we need, to know what is coming. That minotaur is hunted, the elven woman mentioned captives, and Alden only knows what number of ogre would pay for the head of James Andellis. Reprehensible , foul trickery yes,…but still responsible.”

  Kaya had ridden the anger bit to the end she felt, now she had her brother against the wall, verbally speaking, and knew she could now get the answers she wanted and get rid of James Andellis in the process.

  “Tell me what else Evril Alvander had to say, brother.” She looked to the curtains of long blue, the drapes on longer windows of faded red and black, then eyed the chestnut table made for twenty, with but just the two of them present. The candles dripped, yet nothing else stirred around her. Lady Kaya would have noticed were anyone spying, as she was well trained.

  “I told you what he told me. They are in there with Father Brevond Sancadiun now, looking at some ancient scroll the minotaur found below Arouland. James is drunk and blabbering the tales of battle with some strangely marked elf, ogre, trolls and such. The elf, Shinayne, is royalty, I believe, and is keeping her tongue most dignified and silent.”

  “I noticed as well, she has that air about her, poise in her movements and a courtly manner. Tell me more about them brother.” Her claws were in, her brother’s love and respect for his sister found and exposed, Kaya T’Vellon knew he would come to his senses soon enough.

  “It is an incredible find, powerful in ways that I do not understand. Older than anything the church has seen. They need time to unravel its mysteries, they said. Father Brevond mentioned that it is a relic, an artifact like none other, and he wished to contact the Aldane.”

  “That valuable? The Aldane courts in Loucas? Lucky for them---“

  “No sister, he wishes to contact The Aldane on the matter.” Alexei corrected her. “But they will not wait months for such correspondences.”

  “So this relic, that was found by a horned beast, is worth contacting the holy capital in Shanador?” Kaya was astonished, and knew that this could get too much attention too fast, were she not to handle it herself.

  “Indeed it seems, but as I said, they will not be staying long.”

  “James is their ally of sorts, and we could keep him here on charges. That would give us more time.” Kaya smiled.

  “That is not my intention, sister.”

  “Then make it my intention, but you said you need to know everything.”

  “I do not like that strategy, it co
uld make a small matter into an embarrassing and larger matter.”

  “Let me handle it brother.”

  The two talked for hours, unraveling their thoughts, their ideas and speculations. They waited to hear back from their kinsman of the keep and the church on what the fate of the three travelers would be from the Lord and Lady of Southwind.

  LCMVXIIXVIIILCMVXIIXVIIILCMVXIIXVIIILCMV

  The young priest of Alden, white and blue robes neat and clean as always, held his golden feathered cross tightly. He was uttering prayers of guidance under his breath while his other hand touched the ancient scroll laid out on the table. He studied the raw stone of the spindle and felt the ages old material that the words were written upon. It was not paper, not old papyrus, nothing he had ever seen or touched. Soft, yet strong and the dark brown ink unknown to any old scriptures or arcane texts he had seen before. More than fifteen feet of perfectly preserved divinity, written in ancient Altestani,blended with old Carician the holy languages of the ages long passed.

  “The language is perhaps two to four thousand years since widely used at all, the stone looks to be the same, and the material and ink seem to be as fresh at the bottom as a few years old at most. Who did you get this from again, my large friend?” Studying the scroll with a large monocle, the priest paid little mind to the seven and a half foot horned gladiator standing over him.

  “A human, largest I had ever seen, but a man. Imprisoned, chained below the ruins to the west.” Saberrak stood guard by the drafty door to the common room, watching every servant and passerby with suspicion. They stared as they went past, and they passed too often for his tastes. The gray warrior was about as relaxed as he could get in a castle of men.

  “He gave it to you freely?”

  “After I cut his chains we stared at each other. His eyes were strange, glowing blue. He gave it to me and just left, I did not see where.”

  “I told you to keep this quiet, minotaur.” Shinayne nudged him and gave a disapproving glance.

  “There are things I need to know.” Saberrak huffed.

  “Blue eyes, hmmm…often divine beings were spoken of with eyes of blue, in Altestan and Aldane study. It is---“

  The chair tipped over, bottle rattling and spilling across the floor before James could get a hand on it. He scrambled to his knees, taking another slug of his third bottle of Caberran wine. All eyes turned to him and the commotion.

  “I have seen that very man Seberrrekk,” he interjected, his words trailing in slur. “When I was prisoner to the oohhhgre, I saw that man. Beard, the eyesss, naked too. Chainss’d up to the pillars in a dark room. I know him. Yep, I know him. Spoke…to my mind…blue eyes.”

  The elven swordswoman, Saberrak, and the priest all looked at each other, then at James, then to the scroll again.

  “The wine talking for him I suppose?” the priest whispered to the others. “I heard rumor, here and there, that James Andellis had such an affliction.”

  Shinayne looked at them, chuckling at the rapid intoxication of their friend, then looked at Saberrak. The minotaur was not smiling, nor laughing, just staring at the scroll, barely breathing. The elf took note, tried to get a glance from the minotaur, lowering her head a little, hoping movement would break his trance. He looked at her, open eyed, no expression save that of seriousness, stone-faced serious like in battle, yet here and now. Shinayne took the hint again, confirming her first suspicion, and continued to laugh with the priest.

  “Definitely the wine, especially Caberran wine. He has been through much lately Father, pay it no mind.” Shinayne patted him on the shoulder, taking interest in the scroll finally, for Saberrak’s sake, not for any other reason. A servant or two entered, left, each time depositing clean towels and clothing. Shinayne nodded to them all, but watched their eyes.

  “Back to this now. The scroll is a history, dictums and passages I am not familiar with. It makes some obscure reference to Alden, Annar, Megos, a few other Carician Gods of old, even demonic names from the old texts of the Aldane. The writer alludes to him or herself several times as “the strength” or the “courage” in the dictations, but never gives a name.” The priest was talking rapidly, as much to himself as to the others.

  “Carician Gods, what do you mean by that?” huffed the minotaur.

  “The Gods of the white moon, Carice…didn’t you study in church Seebrekks?” James paid no mind in his stupor to the irritation he was causing in the minotaur, no clue that he was very close to being shut up the painful way.

  “The Primalusus Deficussus, times along ago’s and such…ohh yes more wine please.” Distracted from his stumbling lesson on mythology, the knight grabbed for his bottle.

  “James is correct, albeit mispronounced, but accurate in thought. The Primalus Defectus in the old texts of our Aldane teachings is said to be when Megos, son of God, took his children away in the first exodus from the spite of the creator and strict laws on mortal involvements. It was forbidden for the children of God, the throne angels, to interfere with life here in the world despite sufferings and prayers that they heard. Alden, son of Megos, along with his brother Annar, and others such as Siril, Vundren, Haddius and those lost in history, fled to the white moon, Carice, to avoid persecution for their love of mortal worshippers.”

  “In punishment, several of the dark children of God, vastly outnumbering the Caricians, tore the wings from our Lord Alden when he came down to man and imprisoned Annar forever in the hells of Gimmor, the green moon and home to the old God, Yjaros. It was then that the bloody wings and feathers torn were symbolized for the God of mercy and love of mankind, a symbol of His sacrifice to us. This passage in the Aldane is much taught of the cruelty of the old ages, and the light that is Alden, the light of his love of his children, men. That was four thousand years ago as the texts write and those temples flourished, until driven out of the north by the Altestan empires in the last few millennia. Then, Alden sent his messiahs and prophets to the world, and saved us.”

  “And what, father, does that have to do with this scroll?” the elven noblewoman asked, trying to take in the history, from a human point of view that differed from her elven teachings as a child.

  “Well, keep in mind that those myths, like these here, are more tales of genesis and creation, more for children, if you would. They are interpretations, used to describe with old names and places, another time of beings that truly did not exist. Our parents and priests tell us this at a young age to inspire wonder and get us involved in the church and---”

  “I will pleasantly disagree, but please tell me what this has to do with that.” Shinayne pointed to the scroll as she interrupted.

  “The writer here, referring to themselves by description only, speaks at times as though they were present at the time of some of the happenings from the book of Caricians, which is impossible. Since some of this writing can not be more than a century old, it is curious how the author describes such events from a different view and with prayers never heard of. I dare speak such blasphemy, but the writer implies that they are a trapped immortal from this dark era, a relative perhaps. There are passages and writings in ancient Altestani and old Carician alike, ones the world has never seen. Perhaps this is cursed..”

  “Doubtful. The man that gave it to me did not appear to have use for tricks, nor lies.”

  “I have a friend and scholar in Shalokahn, north of Harlaheim that oversees the mission there. He is passionate about such things and has an extensive collection of relics and texts from our origins in faith. Father Garret D’Ourmas. He will have answers that my few years as a priest cannot come up with. I will send word to him, and to the Holy Aldane, but how long will you be staying with us?” Father Brevond was hoping to hear a length of time in which he could research and explain more on this strange finding that now glowed with a light blue and mystical mist that rose from its pages.

  “Not long,” the minotaur answered resolutely.

  “Where, closer than Shalokahn, would you reco
mmend we get this researched Father Sancadiun?” The elf tried not to let the obvious retort of the minotaur linger.

  The young priest scratched his cheek, scraping his nails on the stubble of late afternoon. “Vallakazz my lady, closest place would be Vallakazz. Bishop Ransen Wainwright, my old tutor at communitory school in Addisonia lives there. He resides at the Temple of Golden Mercy in Vallakazz and is in close contact with the Lazlette Semanarium Arcanum, an order and college of wizards under the Lazlette family. You should be able to get much assistance there. I will send riders with recommendations to both the mission and the temple for you, if that is acceptable?”

  “Of course Father, it would be most appreciated.” Shinayne reached into her beltpurse, withdrawing five platinum coins, griffon head emblems of the kingdom of Kilikala, one of the few countries that even used such rare metal for currency. “For your gracious assistance Brevond, and for your rider’s comfortable journey and silence upon this matter.”

  Realizing there were many more of those coins in her possession by the jingling sound and size of the purse, the servant, the priest, and the drunken knight nearly asleep, all looked from purse to hand and to the elven noble in amazement as she handed enough currency to feed a family for two years.

  “That is most gracious Lady Shinayne, most gracious indeed. May Alden bless your soul and watch over you.” At that, the young priest took his leave full of gratitude and with letters to have written by his scribes.

  “May Siril send stars to watch over you, Father.”

  He turned, stifled for words. “Umm…uhh..yes, my thanks again.”

  “Could we have a moment to ourselves, Evril?” the elf asked of the knight that had been seeing to their needs, a young man, dark hair, perhaps twenty or so at most.

  “Of course, my lady.” At that he bowed slightly and left the common room. Evril had been informing Lord Alexei of the conversations he overheard between his delivering of food and drink, yet now he went to meet Kaya. She would want more than the rudimentary gossip he had overheard and would give much more, for her rewards were greater indeed. The young knight smiled in anticipation at meeting Lady Kaya in the usual place upstairs.