The Last Pantheon: of spiders and falcons

by Jason Jones

  “You are not Lady Lazlette of Vallakazz, High Wizard of the academy, are you Gwenneth?” Zen stated aloud what his mind thought, instantly blushing. “These men would take her orders if she were,” James stated, holding his stomach. He looked to the Lady of Lazlette, noticed her eyes were fixed on the cobblestone.

  “I say we call for them. Gwenneth, call your men.” Saberrak huffed at the black robed woman.

  “Of course she is, no one else could have gotten us into the academy and discerned all the information on that scroll! Why are you accusing her?” the elf stood defensively in front of the wizard, glaring at the men before her.

  “How would she know to meet us, what we had? She was written of in the letter that several men died for! At a time like this, you men seek to question her, after all her help to keep us….”

  “I am not the Lady Aelaine Lazlette, High Wizard of the Arcanum Semanarium and ruler of Vallakazz.” Gwenne held her chin up, wanting to keep dignity in the face of dishonesty and disappointment to these brave travelers. “I am her daughter.”

  “Excellent! Pinned down, hunted, people dying, and we are with the child of who we are supposed to be with. This morning gets more interesting by the moment.” The knight peered around the left corner, watching city guards entering doors and raiding the floors of structures, searching for mercenaries. The battles continued to spread.

  “Now what?” James also wondered if the city guard would be looking for them. “I suppose the guard will take us in as opposed to assisting. Perfect.”

  “You had better explain quickly, Lazlette. My axe has little patience for deception.” Saberrak glared at the young woman while smelling the air for enemies.

  “If you take that scroll to my mother, a host of wizards, professors, bishops, and their many opinions will arise. You will not know who to trust, what their motives are, or when someone will try and take it. I told you what I learned of it, no one here could decipher more, and if it stays here there will be more of this.” She pointed her finger toward the street still echoing the sounds of battle.

  “It needs to leave here, quietly, and get to Kalzarius of Harlaheim to the northeast. There is no safer place. If it is what I think it may be, the hunt will never end until we are locked in the tower of the most powerful wizard on Agara, or dead. You need to trust me.”

  Gwenneth felt confident in her knowledge and decision, yet fearful of the danger that already surrounded them. She was not sure if they would trust her, despite that what she expressed was the truth, or mostly the truth. The prodigal daughter felt strongly that divine magicks beyond the scope of any mortal vessel could have imbued that scroll with such power, power that she had no idea how to ascertain or explain to those not schooled long years in her art. Had Gwenneth also mentioned she saw visions of a chained man writing the scroll with his fingernails and blood in a dark cavern while she read the items past, they would probably believe her even less.

  Gwenneth was certain that this indeed was the scroll of Annar, an unknown relic created by a God lost for thousands of years, and it somehow held his power. She did her best to keep secret her anxiousness to be a part of something important, to not let out her desires to leave Vallakazz and see some other part of the world, or at least the kingdom. Her contact with Kalzarius was true, but her hidden motives of wishing to escape her home had to be kept to herself.

  “And the gate?” Saberrak was bending, but wanted more answers.

  “They will stop me, stop us, and my mother will have the captain of the guard bring us back to the academy.”

  “How did you plan to get out then, since the gate is closed and guarded?”

  “Usually there are half those guards. I did not expect a battle early in the morning. These things never happen in Vallakazz, trust me, I have lived here all my life, minotaur.”

  “Suggestions before I wade into the streets and cut my way out of your city?”

  “We head down around this corner back to the west, take Hedge Road south to Carrados Street, and out the south gate instead.” Gwenneth hoped there were less guards there due to the attention pulled to the northeast end of the city.

  “Shinayne, James, Azenairk?” Saberrak looked at his companions, and then back at Gwenneth.

  “Agreed.” The elf glanced back, wanting to get out of the alley before they were followed and cornered.

  “Sounds to me a bit risky, but God will protect me and guide me on the long road. I’m with you.” The priest hefted his warhammer onto his shoulder.

  “Just get me to the caravan with the wine and out of this place.” James ran his fingers through his hair, and then picked up his round Chazzrynn shield, noting the tick marks carved in the back of it. Ninety eight carved scratches, thirteen years of killing ogre, and here he was in an alley with a priest, a minotaur, an elf, and a wizard. He looked to the bright winter sky, wondering if Alden had been playing him a cruel joke. Not hearing an answer, James smiled and strapped tight his shield.

  “You lead, Lazlette. Shinayne stay out to the left side, James bring up the rear. Azenairk and I will stay behind the wizard and watch the right and the rooftops. This time, we go through the gate, one way or the other.” Saberrak the gray sensed some tension, smelled some fear dripping in the sweat of his allies, almost all of them. The elf never seemed to have or show fear, which raised his curiosity and respect for the pointy eared maiden. He knew it was his time to take charge of the plans, and time to execute them and escape this trap of a city, fear or no fear.

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  Middir’s staff glowed with bright blue illumination, humming and trembling in his hands as he magically held one of the crimson orbs of vile energy in place five feet in front of him. Dasius, covered in sweat from the top of his head running down his tan face, held his palms out, forcing arcane power through him and guiding his Tridian Orbs toward his enemies. His concentration solid, eyes focused, forcing the deadly summoned spheres through the efforts of the two before him. His thoughts strayed to what he would do after they were dead.

  “Vallakazz needs a new lord and master. You both have sheltered this academy for far too long. My people have many plans for this city, and unfortunately, you are not part of them!”

  The gray hair on Aelaine’s head whooshed over her face, the wind picking up briskly as something rushed by at great speed. A white snow vulture swooped into the side of the ninth floor, diving and turning past the blasted and scorched stone and veering left around the cascading and crumbling magical barrier. Diving with purpose and poise again to the right toward the hovering Caberran traitor, Hithins crashed into Dasius’ face. White feathers scattered all around the wizard. Sparking shadowy tendrils from Aelaine’s previous enchantment reached upward, grabbing and consuming dropped feathers as they fell, smoldering them in electricity. The white vulture raked and pecked, squawking mad, and drew blood from the traitorous professor’s bald head. Hithins even tore one ear to shreds as his talon caught a hoop earring.

  Dasius yelled in anger, grabbed the bird that was scarring his face, and threw it to the ground. “Damn avian demon!”

  Aelaine did not hesitate, knowing the distraction gave her a moment to stop concentrating on the deadly orb, and waved her hand, “Silmirithan!” The energy maintaining the shadowy tendrils about to grab her loyal vulture disappeared, dismissed to nothingness.

  Middir thrust his glowing staff forward, hurling one of the orbs now free of the concentration of his enemy, toward Dasius. Another began swirling toward the corrupt wizard, driven by Aelaine’s guiding hand, and the third merely sat and pulsed with red molten energy as the arcane barrier vanished. The two orbs nearly reached their summoner, and at the last moment Dasius clapped his hands together and concentrated all his anger and energy. Too late, he failed in only bringing them together in front of him.

  The explosion of the two orbs making contact with one another sent waves of thundering force though the room, knocking both Middir and Dasius to the g
round and burning the Caberran man’s face and hands. The third orb, guided by both Middir and Aelaine simultaneously, sped incredibly, burning through the maple desk Dasius had fallen behind. Incinerating a hole through it, the crimson sphere hurled out the other side, and through the elbow of the wizard, his forearm falling to the ground as he screamed out in horror.

  “It is over, Dasius! Stand down your staff! This need not go any further.” Aelaine glanced at Hithins, seeing him get to flight and take post on a shelf in the back of the room, shaking off the blast and his injuries.

  “Thank you Hithins, my brave friend.”

  Dasius of Caberra stood, and fell down, his leg broken from the fall from his levitation when the orbs exploded. His right arm seared off at the elbow, he leaned on the staff with his left hand, and pulled himself to his feet. Blood ran down claw marks on his burned and blackened face with splinters of wood protruding, his ear ripped in two, the lobe hanging like dead flesh stuck to his neck with bloody soot. He faced both the High Wizard and the old professor, their arcane weapons pointed at him, waiting for him to make a gesture, a sound, or anything to give them reason to unleash their magicks upon him.

  “This will go much further, just not today! Erelian dors reluthes!” As he spoke the words, a bolt of white flame erupted from Aelaine’s palm, along with an arcing blue rip of lightning from the fingers of Middir, too late. The spells pierced through shadow only, impacting on the stone wall behind where the wizard was a moment earlier. The wall cracked and scorched, the foundation of the very chamber moaned with weakness and injury.

  Aelaine hovered back into the chamber, meeting Middir in the middle of the destruction. “Perfect timing, but the traitor lives to haunt us, and he erased the writings on the warlock mirror he was hiding.” Lady Lazlette pointed to the smooth glowing white and black marble slabs on the wall.

  “We have no idea who he was communicating with, who he is working for.”

  “I know, but doubtful we will see him soon my lady, his injuries are severe. Gwenneth surely knows something, or she would not have snuck in here and left so abruptly. She will provide the missing pieces we need when she arrives.” Middir looked down at the disembodied hand of Dasius, to the scorch marks covering the back of the chamber.

  “Hithins, has my daughter been held at the eastern gate?”

  “Lady Aelaine, Gwenneth never approached the eastern gate, but captain Shilde and his men had it reinforced well. Angeline and the captain met heavy attacks in the merchant district, a battle that is near its end now. But no sign of your daughter or her companions, they must have found another way out, my lady.” Hithins picked at his feathers, removing ones that were burned or bent from injury with his curved white beak.

  “Hithins, find my daughter. Search the skies to the east. Find her before our enemies do.” The command was calm, but arcane bonds of old magicks compelled the snow vulture to do so. He flew off through the ruined wall of the ninth floor of the academy with a squawk.

  The old professor placed his hand on Aelaine’s shoulder, “We will find Gwenneth, before anyone else Aelaine, you know that.”

  “I hope so Middir, I hope so.”

  “Do you know of anywhere she would try and take them? Besides out of the city?”

  “No. There is only one place, one that I can think of.” Aelaine winced.

  “Where would that be?” Middir noticed her in pain and held her for comfort.

  “She and Kalzarius were close, she will make for Harlaheim, and we need to stop her.” Aelaine sighed and rested her head on Middir's shoulder.

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  Angeline ducked under the high slashing crosscuts of the assassin, the only one remaining on the rooftop. Despite watching his fellow murderers fall to their deaths from the ice she created and her deadly blade, this one pushed on. Humming in her silence, a constant hum that came from her chest as she carefully backed up, the silent beauty spoke with the sky for any assistance it might have. She cut upward with hands tight at the black masked mercenary, his saber and dagger coming together to block the attack. He riposted quickly with the dagger toward her throat, which she deflected with an upward stroke of the sword, then came the saber, a thrust aimed into her abdomen. She turned sideways, balancing cautiously on the peak of the slanted stone roof covered in ice. Her elbow thrust out, cracking across the man’s chin with her body weight behind it, knocking him back a step.

  “Lil whore with a blade, eh? Just relax and let me be fixin’ yer worries then.”

  Ignoring the taunt she backed up, giving distance between the two, which was to Angeline’s advantage with the reach of her weapon. She had wanted to retort, but her vow would not allow it. A gray and white motion caught her eye from the corner, as a flock of diving pigeons railed into the White Spider assassin, throwing him off balance as they swarmed his upper body and head. Cooing and fluttering in the commotion, countless birds were scratching and poking with sharp beaks and clawed feet. Assisting for only a moment in the cold winter sun, the birds continued their journey through the city skies, leaving an outraged killer fighting to regain his composure.

  She wasted no time, stepping in and cutting down from a high guard, his saber and dagger once again parrying the attack. Her hard boot heel kicked out into his stomach, doubling the assassin over. His blades went out, half an expected parry or weakened reflexive balancing act. Angeline’s hand-and-a-half sword chopped down, a sweeping cut that knocked the saber blade and disarmed the dagger from his hand. Her knee went up hard as she stepped in, making direct contact with his jaw again, sending him careening down the slanted icy roof and falling to the hard cold street below. The silent warrior sheathed her sword and walked off the edge, the wind letting her float down gently. Her boots touched down next to five broken bodies, two of them still alive and groaning in agonies of shattered bones.

  The guards that had followed her up came rushing down the stairs, two of them with a masked assailant bound and bloody. Captain Kendrynn Shilde, holding his right forearm, marched the middle of Candelabra street with twelve of his twenty behind him, his breastplate cut and bloodied from the men he had killed. He looked to the heavy guard he had posted at the eastern gate, the gate that was still quiet several hundred feet away. He looked to Angeline, the guards approaching behind her, and did a quick count of hers and his own.

  “We lost ten men here. Ten lost taking on well over thirty. White Spider agents for certain. Most likely from Valhirst. We have one prisoner?” Kendrynn looked to Angeline for a response, one he assumed he would not get. She looked at him, then to the writhing men on the cold cobblestone behind her, then to the two bound being walked toward them.

  “Very well, two prisoners and two sets of broken bones, well done. Well done. No daughter of Lady Lazlette to the eastern gate, eh?”

  Angeline could not speak, her vow would not allow it until Middir had relieved her of it and had forgiven her. She shook her head from side to side, answering a visual no, and started looking around the merchant quarter as shopkeepers and commoners began to emerge once again after the morning battle.

  She saw nothing, not a sign of the killer she met in the temple nor the group of travelers that Gwenneth had snuck into the academy. Just plenty of assassins waiting for them, and many that knew, or thought they knew, where Aelaine’s daughter would be heading this morning. Angeline gave a deep bow to the men and the captain, then turned and walked toward the academy grounds to inform Middir that she had not found Gwenneth Lazlette.

  “I need the men from the eastern gate, and send for any priests and clergy the temple can spare. We have many dead and injured. Well done men, well fought.” Kendrynn thought of Angeline, her silence, and then of the majority of the citizens that knew nothing of the danger the city had been in this morning.

  “Continue the search for Gwenneth Lazlette, and her company that entered the west gate last night. Send more men to the other gates, the academy grounds, and get the prisoners to
the keep for questioning.” Captain Kendrynn Shilde sheathed his broadsword, and walked with frustrated steps, confused as to what could possibly bring such a force to Vallakazz.

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  The guards, readied in their chainmail armor, open faced helms, steel shields, bladed polearms and broadswords, did not notice the Nadderi walking between the two mules. Kendari crouched, walked carefully as to not be stepped on by a hoof, and kept the tip of his enchanted longsword to the back of the young boy leading his property back to his family farmstead.

  The guards paid no mind, discussing the added men to the eastern gate and gossiping about late night travelers with horns that came in from the west last evening. The boy did not flinch, and kept his pace as instructed. Over the bridge past the portcullis, over the tributaries that snaked to Lake Pellicram that surrounded Vallakazz, and into the wide open rolling hills of the surrounding rural area they went.

  “Keep a steady pace, that’s perfect. Head east now, and do not think to try anything brave. I have killed fifteen men since last night. One more is not going to lose me any sleep. Get me to the eastern road to Valhirst and you will retain your extremities.”

  The boy, about sixteen seasons, with light brown hair with tints of orange in the curls and blue terror filled eyes, did not say a word. He just did as he was told. His family was leaving to trade in Valhirst on a different road, he knew he was alone. Terror at being killed with no one to help began to take over in his mind.

  Kendari watched the eastern gate from afar, seeing that it had not opened, and it was still heavily guarded. His concern was that the White Spider had gotten hold of the scroll, or worse yet, the city had covered the elven woman and her companions and made an attempt impossible. Regardless, he would hunt for the trail of the satyr and the wood elf and pursue the books for Salah-Cam if the wait for the scroll was looking to be unrewarding.