“Then you should have let me! Then it would be done!”
“And what then? We are alive, you are free, like it or not! You are not Chalas Kalaza, you have a conscience and a will beyond killing and bloodshed, I have seen it and I feel it every morning when I think of you! Quit trying to go back to that, and come forward with us. We will not survive this journey with you half in the arena and half truly here, we won’t. Zen needs you, Gwenneth and James and I need you, here, now. So snap out of it!”
Slap
His head turned to the side, more from surprise than the force of her hand hitting his face. “You are far too bold, for an elf, for a woman, for anyone to speak to me that way.”
“It is because I do not fear you, I know you, and you do not know how to deal with that, with someone caring for you. Well, guess what my horned warrior, get used to it.” Shinayne smiled, and walked ahead before the others caught up and interrupted her guiding moments.
“I have killed for insults far less, you are lucky. Shinayne T’Sarrin…”
“Lucky what? That you are my friend and closest companion? You are welcome, the feeling is mutual. Now let’s catch up to our lion-man guide before he finds us another revolting meal.”
“Thank you.” He said it low, where no one could hear it, but he said it nonetheless. Saberrak took off after her and Dalliunn as James, Zen, and Gwenneth rounded the curve behind them. He was glad they were not there to hear any of it. He pushed his rage, his bestial desire for anger that soured him, all of it, deep inside and away from his mind.
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Katrina stood over the bodies, smoldering flesh, armor, and charred bones looking up at her. Faldrune smashed another head in as one Harlian man was crawling away. Her army of eighty was still in full force, yet moving slow with the horses having to be led from time to time in the unsteady terrain. She looked to Rynnth, eating another hunter from Devonmir that had been tracking those that had killed her children. She crunched away, having found a plateau that would support her hundreds of feet in length. Veuric sang songs of her praise in the draconic tongue as she ate the burned victims, alive or dead.
There was no battle in truth, just three passes over the canyon clearing, each one unleashed massive sprays of sticky flame and scalding ash upon the small army of slavers and soldiers from Devonmir. Faldrune the red and Katrina Willborne were but the clean up, finishing any survivors after the smoke cleared. Then her men arrived, silent in more fear and horror than thinking of victory here. She knew it, she could not voice it, but she knew it. She looked to her minotaur bodyguard, now as much a slave as she was. Crown or no crown, she knew Faldrune was no different than she now, a servant of Rynnth the dragon of Willborne. She looked to the dragon, massive black wings folded over her back, neck curled and stretching toward the sky now, her tail slithering back and forth spreading rubble all around.
“Ixverith ixinteri oothall udrix.”
“The great Rynnth says we have visitors and to arm yourselves, now.” Veuric spoke, half his face now bone and black scars, the other sporting a red glazed eye like the Katrina and Faldrune, like the dragon.
“Arm yourselves, soldiers of Willborne!” Katrina’s will disappeared, the voice, perhaps the focus of Rynnth, she could not tell when she would have her own thoughts.
They looked down the pass, then back the way they came, up over the ridges and bluffs of the Misathi. Nothing. The sun beat down upon armored men, the valley was steaming, forcing sweat from under steel helms. Then the cloudcover shaded them, sighs of relief went about the men. Rynnth snarled and hissed, her nostrils puffing smoke as she stood on her two hind legs and coiled in anger. No one saw what it could be.
Crrasshh!
Crunch, crunch, crunch!
The mist was cool, clouds whipping over them in the hot mountain trail, then the fog and sounds of tremors. The men got low, barely able to see in the haze, it felt to everyone as if an earthquake was all around them. Rynnth hissed again, breathing fire into the clouds now and backing up on her plateau. The horses scattered, some dragging their knights along with in the panic, the shadow of the clouds spread darkness all over the mountains, like a hungry storm intent on devouring them. Katrina and Faldrune climbed through the gale, up to Rynnth, weapons on guard for whatever it was.
“Klak vuren duak ibbern akril auk minarr?” A voice boomed what sounded like a question, a voice from the fog, a voice too strong to be human.
Katrina had never heard the tongue before, neither Faldrune, nor Veuric. They looked to their scaled mistress, who walked forward down the pass, hesitantly. Her head darted in the fog, red eyes glowing, tail flicking in time with her tongue, a gargantuan black serpent in the fog of the valley. She stopped, nearly face to face with a man, an enormous man.
He stood nearly eye to eye with Rynnth, more than twenty five feet in height. His armor was bronze circular plates, all etched and designed with strange symbols. The shield he wore on his arm was the same, a round disc the size of a small farmhouse. His skin was a yellow tan, like his beard that lay out with braids and bronze clasps to his waist. His hair was tied back the same, and dark blue tattoos marked his face like claws from fights long over. He glared at Rynnth with fierce blue eyes like the sky he seemed to come from, and pointed a straight bronze sword with one hand toward her nose. His tan cape of washed and worn bearskins fluttered in the winds from above him. Despite the dragon being ten times his size, he did not even blink when she snarled and hissed a horrid scream at him.
“You down there, you serve this dragon?”
His Agarian was rough, the accent hard on the consonants and rather broken, yet Katrina understood him, her armor vibrated from his words. She took off her helm, placed it under her arm, and put he crown upon her brow. “I am Queen Katrina of Willborne, and I am the blade of the mighty dragon, Rynnth.”
“I am Kimtor Seven-teeth, son of King Arytor the Spear. I am Prince of Auf Alach, the fortress in the clouds above. You are in the hunting ground of my father, and my people, and your dragon is not welcome in these lands. Leave.” Kimtor stomped his sandaled foot, rocks tumbling in the Misathi as he did, then looked back from Katrina to this ancient dragon before him.
Veuric, on his knees in fear, translated up to Rynnth. Katrina looked to her men, all eighty ready to break and run back south or east at any moment. They were looking up, so she and Faldrune noticed and did the same.
In the clouds, stone towers upon castle walls could be seen if one tried hard enough. Horns of curved steel and bone stood out from the walls that held banners of blue and white and gold, all with either a fist, a sun, or both depicted upon them. She saw speartips, dozens moving along the battlements, and she looked in amazement at how this structure and its giant inhabitants could possibly float in the clouds and storms. Rynnth’s angry hiss brought her back to the moment, back to control or lack thereof.
“Uxan ixirthinis aghavam uxiremi cathlixiur ux eri uxez arrl.”
“The mighty Rynnth states she is hunting for those that slew her two children in her temple, and has awoken to seek vengeance upon them, nothing more. She says she will continue west until justice is served.” Veuric, closer than even the dragon to this giant, shuddered as he spoke the words.
“You have killed in our territory, this is a trespass that cannot be undone. By sunrise tomorrow, be gone from these mountains. Tell the dragon that controls you, that we of Auf Alach do not tolerate her kind, nor their tricks, in these lands. She makes pacts with our food and pets, and that is not allowed. If she does not leave today, she will die tomorrow.” Kimtor Seven-teeth pounded his sword to his shield as he spoke, then sheathed it. He pulled a toothed necklace out from behind his beard, revealing fangs the size of Rynnth’s fangs, seven to be precise. The hollars from many a giant above in the cloud fortress could be heard plain as day, even down in the shadows.
Veuric recited the words from giant to dragon. She flailed her clawed hands, whipped her tail and smashed it into the g
round, then shot her head back and forth hissing and biting in warning. Kimtor backed up, feeling the heat from her breath, and drew his blade as he readied his shield.
“Ixirimi gaexlindir hexilium uxan oohmas tugras ixilim!”
Rynnth roared her words at the giant and Veuric, her head bobbing back and forth at the end of her fifty foot of neck, ready to strike.
“The great dragon, Rynnth, says she will spare you today. But her servants are hers, and hers alone. Her journey west will be unhindered by your people, or she will burn your castle out of the clouds and kill every last giant of the Misathi.” Veuric gulped, then moved behind the dragon he served.
“I will inform King Arytor the Spear of your mistress and her threats. You have until sunrise tomorrow, as we have offered.” Kimtor turned his back on the little human queen, the minotaur, and the other servants of Rynnth the dragon. He walked up the fog enshrouded cliff to a colossal drawbridge that was still open, and walked inside.
The fog lifted, the winds diminished, and sunlight returned within minutes as the hidden fortress in the clouds drifted off slowly into the sky. Katrina looked, now that it was clear, and she could see nothing from the ground that would distinguish it from any other raincloud. She looked to Rynnth, who hissed and flapped her wings in preflight stretch. Katrina, Faldrune the red, and Veuric the burned all climbed upon her back.
She took flight, circling the valleys and endless peaks of the Misathi until she was high enough to maintain a glide. West they flew, circling often as to let the knights on horse keep pace. “Iximir, thixsirian plathix gurlth akix oohhm.”
“What did our mistress say, Veuric.” Queen Katrina watched the cloud blend in with others, now she did not know which one to even look for.
“The majestic Rynnth says not to worry, she has killed dozens of giants in her countless centuries. She says those fangs on his necklace were made of stone, false, and when she has revenge upon the slayers of her children, we will come back to kill every giant here.” Veuric rubbed the scales of his mistress, and closed his eye.
Katrina had many things to say, fears to wash away from the knights below who surely had questions. She could not voice them, she was here, they were down there, and her will was little more than a blank parchment awaiting the dragon to write commands upon it.
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The wind was cold in the stark comparison to the daylight heat of the mountains, too cold. Clouds passed overhead in stark contrast to the midnight sky, strange noises were on the breeze, and Dalliunn could not sleep. His whiskers tingled constantly, his smell caught nothing but their own trail as the wind was from the east. He looked around, seeing the elven woman sleeping, and the big horned thing, the bearded human, the unbearded human that flew, but not the mountain man with the shaved head. The lewirja looked around, orange eyes squinting in the whipping debris and his own mass of thick black hair that pelted his face. He found him, sitting on an outcropping of rock over the pass, looking off to the west. Dalliunn Cloudwatcher padded off to sit with him.
“Ahh, evening there Dalliunn. Enjoying the breeze a bit, thinking of our journey is all lad. Nothing to concern yourself with. I was thinkin’ that we should try for higher ground, see what can be seen, ya’ know?” Azenairk stretched his arms, they had not gotten the stress that his legs had, and they seemed restless.
The lewirja purred, smiled, and looked to the moons with the dwarf.
“My sentiments exactly, you said it lad. Peaceful up here, that’s all, a bit of peace and---“
Dalliunn was on all fours with his stone weapon out just a second faster than Zen had his hammer in his hand next to him. They both heard it, something walking in the mountains, carefully, but it slipped. Then silence. Moments passed, then minutes, and nothing. Then the rocks tumbled down to their feet, little ones only, but something started them down. They looked up, still nothing. Neither of them moved nor made a noise, both forgetting to breathe for a time in the dark.
“What is it, can ye’ see?”
“Urilllia olllitinsee?”
“That’s right, ye’ only mimick what I say, wonderful. Best we warn the others then.” The priest of Vundren took one step, then Dalliunn grabbed him by the arm and whipped him back with a mighty force.
“Hey there, what ya’ doin’ to my…oh Vundren’s shield!”
Rraaahhh raah rahh ugh raah!
Dalliunn pounced out of the way after throwing his bearded companion back to safety. The spear plunged into the rocks, breaking the bone tip off. The shaft whipped around twice, both the lewirja and the dwarf ducking under each sweep. They backed up out of reach as the thing chanted a roar again and stomped ahead.
Rraaahhh raah rahh ugh raah!
Zen looked up, fifteen feet up, twice as tall as Saberrak up, into the bony gray visage of some sort of bald horned giant. It had two yellow curved tusks on the bottom, two on the top, both overlapping its face and oversized. Black eyes with glints of silver stared down. Its body had but withery skin over emaciated bones, all gray and hairless save the uncovered groin which had a weave of black hair and a belt of skulls strung across. The smell was like breathing in an open tomb and its white nails on its feet and hands had years of dirt and filth underneath. Ribs poked, nobby knees charged ahead, hips shone through, and Zen guessed the thing had not eaten in a very long time.
“Allright ugly one, come get yer meal then!” Zen pounded his hammer down, hoping to scare it off as much as wake the others.
Just as it reached down, Dalliunn pounced on its back, four claws tearing, his sharp stone hammer pounding into its shoulder blades while he held the throat from behind for balance. Zen wasted no time, stepping in and smashing a leg below the knee, splintering it. Then the other before it fell, sharp bone popping out of the skin as it toppled forward. Black blood seeped like sap from a tree, Zen paid no mind. As it thrashed to the mountainside, the lewirja on top of it, Zen pounded his warhammer into the side of its massive skull. Once, twice, a fourth blow, it was still trying to get up. He almost vomited, the smell of the beast, its blood, or both, was worse than rot on a hot summer day. A fifth, seventh, nine times he hit the skull of this savage gray giant until it cracked, and its eyes closed. He hit it again for good measure, more black sticky blood splattering into his face and beard, all over him.
“What in Vundren’s mountain is that? And why does it smell so awful?” Azenairk tried wiping the blood off, but it had already dried, like glue. He heard the others coming, running toward him.
“Thanks little lion, I owe ye’ one.” Zen noticed that Dalliunn looked nervous, anxious, looking about the ridges and the valley below. He began to point to the west, then started to pad off as the others arrived.
“Its allright lad, we killed him, relax there, easy. Don’t be goin’ far then! Silly cat man.”
“Zen, Zen, are you hurt? Are there more?” Shinayne was the first there of course, her elven speed unmatchable by anyone save the lewirja, who must have gone to scout.
“No, no, we are allright. This one here has seen better nights though.” He kicked the starved giant.
“Did you kill this thing priest? It is twice as tall as me, nice work.” Saberrak huffed, patting Zen on the armored shoulder as he walked by to inspect the stench and the source of it.
“What in the world, Gwenneth, look at this. What is this Zen?” James looked the beast over along with Saberrak, covering his mouth with his blue sash of Chazzrynn.
“I killed it, with a lot of help from Dalliunn, he saved me from the spear in truth. Then, he run off. Likely scouting the perimeter for more. Stinks don’t it?” Zen wiped again, the blood would not come off. “I feel sick, I think…rraaallllhhhh”
“Do not touch the blood, there is something not right here.” Gwenneth concentrated, clenching the staff of Imoch, its green light illuminating the area, and her eyes glowing yellow with arcane vision. She gasped.
“What is it?” James drew his blade, turning and looking as Gwenneth tur
ned and looked all around them. He saw nothing.
Shinayne helped Zen to his feet, dumping some water down his black beard to clean off the vomit, then on his hands and face. She took a her cloak and began scrubbing the dried black blood from his skin. “What do you see Gwenne, we see nothing.”
“What you do not see, I cannot describe.”
“Well you had better make an effort lass, you are scarin’ me with them words. Whats with the blood?” Zen began scrubbing as well, trying not to get sick again.
“There are spirits, small and large, all around us. Black ones, dark ones, it is some tribal spell, they are circling us now. Hundreds. They are still pouring out of the mouth of this giant you slew, and back and forth to---“
“The totems, see Saberrak, I told you.” Shinayne looked to the empty sky, seeing nothing.
“They are focusing, arriving here, rising from the bones all around this pass, and circling…circling Zen. They want the blood back, they reach for it.” Gwenneth let down her vision. “We are in a burial ground my friends. Let us hope there are not many of these giant shamans around.”
“They want the blood back? Here, tell them to help scrub it off then. It’s makin’ me ill.” Zen looked to his armor, his hammer, splattered with the stuff that was taking a lot of work to get off.
“No sleep tonight, let’s move ahead. Find Dalliunn.” Saberrak gruffed, sensing they were in a tight spot. He did not see their enemies, therefore he could not fight them. He did not like that feeling, not one bit.
Angeline III:II
Soujan Mountain, Harlaheim
“This is the spot, isn’t it Larens.” The question was rather a statement, for Angeline knew the answer.
“Eight years ago, I heard your cry from this very spot. I was deep in meditation, wondering why I was here. The Goddess had sent me to think, I was troubled, losing faith. Larens of Guidance, she said, seek out something new if what you have before you is not of overwhelming joy to your spirit.” Larens looked down the green covered mountain, restraining from looking to Angeline.
The Exodus Sagas: Book III - Of Ghosts And Mountains Page 20
