With cool water, unpleasant meats, and a cave to keep them safe, the companions en route to the lost mines of Kakisteele survived another day. They heard the chants, listened to the footsteps and stomping to try and gauge numbers, and waited. James ate quietly, rested little, and tried not to think about when, not if, they would have to open the cave and fight their way out against the cannibal tribes of the Mogi.
Kendari III:IV
Ruins of Stillwood, Eastern Kivanis
Shiver slashed wildly, barely even meeting resistance, but the heat seemed to make up for what the steel failed to do to the spirits of the dead. Kendari whipped the crossblade across immediately after, cutting through five elven ghosts as if they were paper. They faded quickly, angered facades upon the already perished, but the Nadderi paid no mind and kept moving.
His steps were perfect, blocking transparent blades with a blur of parries, and riposting a hundred times to the doom of those that sought their revenge from beyond the grave. His brothers and father were the first to fall, forever ago it seemed. The onslaught was never ending, now the next morning from whence he was surrounded. Kendari had pushed himself beyond the limits of any soldier, any elf, even past the famed swordmasters of his race.
He had killed thousands, thousands without armor, flesh, or real steel in their hands. His wounds were few, pinpoint bruises where bleeding cuts would have normally been. The cursed swordsman did not care, he was outnumbered, and against those that wished him dead like them. His longswords plunged through the charging elves, diminishing three at a time. Then he swept in masterful arcs that destroyed ten more of the gray spectres. Diving, rolling, and slashing more from atop ruined stones and dead tree roots, Kendari cut down the last of the haunts.
He looked around and saw nothing. Sweat rolled in big drips from his soaked hair, down his marked face, and his breaths came in gasps of pure exhaustion. Shiver and the crossblade sheathed, free from blood despite all his enemies vanquished. He had taken their blood four hundred years past. Now, he had taken their revenge and spat it back at them from the still lands they resided in. The grove was quiet, the Nadderi tree with the sword of suicide called to him, and Kendari paced.
“Bravo, bravo, Kendari the kinslayer revisits his past and is victorious! We are all amused, yet those bodies do not fulfill our bargain. They were already dead for the counting once, my marked assassin.”
Her voice would enrage him, terrify him here and now, had he the energy or care left. He smelled the sulphur, saw the shadows move outside the circle of elven sacred ground to his left, Nareene was here but Kendari could not see where.
"Show yourself, demon. And bring me water while you ramble, I have a thirst.”
“No water where I am at, none at all. But not to worry, I will be out soon, twas but a wound of the flesh that takes days to heal in hell. A month or two here in your time and you will see me Kendari. Be patient.” Her voice echoed in the grove, laughter of a hundred cackling whores, and the foulest creatures all in one.
“I am most anxious indeed.” He looked, a small rabbit by a banyan tree, sitting quiet, her voice came from it for certain.
“So why did you come here? To ask forgiveness?”
Kendari stabbed the rabbit with one fluid stroke that unleashed Shiver, killed the animal, and sheathed it all in one blink of an eye. The rabbit bled then black shadow rose into the air from its blood.
“No, to end it all.” Kendari tried to watch the shadows but they blended into the air and then to nothing.
“That was rude, so rude. I thought I had taught you better manners?” Nareene took a small blackbird high in the trees and out of his reach this time.
“Does it hurt? When I kill you, is their agony? I surely hope so.” Kendari could not reach the bird, so he sheathed his blades and sat against the banyan tree, letting the sun warm his face and the breeze cool his hair.
“No, it is rather pleasurable. However, keeping this form of communication in a place such as this is quite taxing on my spirit.”
“You have no spirit, no soul, you are a demon. You take from this world and give to your masters. You are but a tool of a sick carpenter bent on forging evil instruments and spreading death. I care not what may tax you, Nareene.”
“How very complimentary of you, I will inform Cancuru of your flattery. You will see him soon enough, that flattery may buy you a few centuries less of intolerable torment in Lake Holavis at the end of Tartralam. My master enjoys the exiles that drown in the dead, they go quite mad in their---“
“Silence!” A woman’s ear piercing voice shredded the near quiet of Stillwood.
The trees moved, the clouds thickened and stood still, and the ground shook. The blackbird possessed by Nareene looked, as did Kendari, as green light radiated through a crack in the earth and shot into the air. The Nadderi tree moaned, the sword in it crackled with black sparks, and Kendari vomited as his stomach churned uncontrollably. Nareene flew fast to another tree further away.
“You both are most unwelcome here! What daring audacity would bring you to Stillwood? Either of you?!” Seirena hovered above the crevice in the soil, surrounded by green illumination, her blonde white hair thrashing in winds that were not there, and her green glowing eyes fixed upon Kendari.
Her voice held a power that was beyond mortal scope. Kendari quivered, he could not talk, he was in the circle of the grove near the Nadderi tree which only amplified the terror and blasphemy that he felt for being alive and here. He reached up to shield his eyes but his hand only got a foot off the ground before the tremors were too much.
“Kendari was coming to end his life, so it would seem, great mother. I was simply urging him to do so and foretelling---“
“I hear a temptress speaking, my sons’ voice from one of my birds, Cancuru is it? My second born child, does he enjoy Tartralam? Does he enjoy the exiled purgatory of the dead and the insane? Send him his mothers’ love!” Seirena’s green eyes flared, the bird exploded with shadow and screams of a thousand women and demons in unison. Then, as if nothing happened, the bird flew off.
“Now, Kendari, surely you came here for something other than disturbing the dead. Speak.” Seirena looked to the sky as if something may be watching her.
“Just to…end it…is all…unforgiving Goddess…of---“
“Silence, your quivering annoys me and I cannot stay long. Did you come to die? Because I cannot kill, nor shed blood, not of a living creature on the earth. You, like it or not, are still mine while you live.”
“No…I want…to---“
“End the suffering? Find a reason to live? Not from me, Kendari the kinslayer, not from me. How many did you kill, have you killed?” Seirena watched the trees, the clouds, she was nervous out here without any protection.
“Thousands…I am…not---“ His tremors would not stop, his words were cut off, she was reading his thoughts as fast as they came. He had second thoughts on returning now, her presence caused a pain no one could endure, let alone him.
“Today does not count, they were already dead. So, you have taken the lives of just over two thousand one hundred by your blades alone in just over six hundred years of life. That is directly, I hold you accountable for only that, though your justice of the curse was due to your assisted leadership in killing nearly ten thousand in one battle. So, am I to forgive you for that? I think no. What have you ever done to deserve any redemption?”
“The queen…of Harlaheim…I---“
“Ahhh, yes. You saved one woman, roughly saved mind you, but yes. One adulteress queen, There is one. Do you wish forgiveness? I am forgiving, my son Cancuru, you will not escape that, not ever. But I, yes, I can forgive you.” Seirena smiled.
“Yes?...then..I am…---“
“No, not yet. You will retain those marks and your curse until you have redeemed yourself in my eyes. I want one hundred lives saved for every one you killed. That would be two hundred ten thousand three hundred. I would guess you to be in your last century of l
ife, give or take a few decades. You best get busy, Kendari.”
“Go…to…hell…you---“
“I know my father sent many of my children there already as they deserved, now they rule there and send their flock to ones like you. Get your mind off of anything I see in your recent past. Take that sword, end it, I have offered my terms of redemption.” Seirena started to fade, back into the crevice, she called to her sanctum in Soujan Mountain.
“I will…do as..I wish…and I will…see your..words---“
“Oh, I remember. You cursed me and my son Siril, and all of the Whitemoon, I never forget Kendari. Keep your mind off of Shinayne T’Sarrin, I see your thoughts. My son Siril will strike you dead should you even think to act upon what I just saw. If I had not come, Siril would have, and you would be no more.”
“I will…go west…and follow…them…and you will…regret…this moment…more…You know..I can…kill her easily.” Kendari, tremors or not, knew when someone showed interest and threatened, it meant they cared enough to mention it. Goddess or not, he knew that Seirena did not like him thinking of that highborne elven woman he met in Chazzrynn. He smiled.
“You want to be of use, is that your threat? Travel to Armondeen, to Vin Armon then, you will know what to do. Do that, and I will hold the Hedim Anah off of you for three days. Do it not, and I will have my granddaughters summon them now from their temples. Then I will send the guardians of the Temples of the Whitemoon and my Knights Soujan. I will be watching Kendari, my eyes are everywhere. You will be followed by one you will never trick again….” Seirena, Goddess of the earth and life, faded into the green light. The crevice closed as if it never were.
Kendari stood, his trembling stopped, the pain was sharp in his abdomen. He looked to the sword. He heard a crunch in the leaves of Stillwood and turned. There was a deer, young, nubs for horns, eating grass not five feet away. It stared at him, growled as if it were a dog, and continued eating.
The Nadderi elf gripped the sword, a curved elven longblade he would never use, and pulled it from the tree. The tree moaned and whispered in anger. Kendari strapped the blade to his back and looked to the deer. He thought he imagined the whole thing, wished he had, but he knew it was his mind trying to rationalize the trauma. He smiled, having defied the Gods once more, and even having something to possibly keep him occupied a month or so. Hopefully, it involved some killing.
“And who are you then, something I ate long ago? Reborn to follow and torment me for enjoying a meal of you or your family? I hope you can keep up.”
The deer growled its best growl again as it chewed.
“You do not frighten me, tell her that. You best hope I do not get hungry in the long journey to Armondeen.”
It stared, growling, chewing, it definitely understood.
The ruins of Stillwood were quiet once more. Kendari walked out slowly, head low, thoughts heavy. He kept the sword of suicide there, just in case he felt the need to end his life. Armondeen would take a direct western route of at least two weeks at a fast ride on a strong horse. He looked west, then to his boots, having nothing better to do than either kill himself or kill the deer, so he began to run at a light pace. He looked back, the deer ran behind him. He stopped. The deer stopped.
“Ths is going to be an agonizing journey.” He looked over his shoulder, the blade of death was right there, anytime he needed it.
“Not today sword, not yet.” Kendari began west once more, deer in tow.
Exodus III:XI
Deadman’s Pass, Misathi Mountains
“There comes a moment lads, when all resources are exhausted, there is no turning back, and every strategy is too much a gamble to even try. At that moment soldiers are made by simply choosing the direct approach over suicide or surrender, knowing in thine hearts and minds albeit either choice as being equally matched in odds of survival.”---Words of Gindrach Hulaste, fourth Low King of Evermont, military philosopher for the Kingdom of Shanador, circa 181 B.C.
Shinayne looked out through the crack in the melded stone. The shadows grew, night was coming in a few hours. Three times this day, the Mogi had tried to break through to no avail. Hairline cracks were revealed with Gwenneth’s light however, the keen eyesight of the highborne saw as much. She knew it would not be another night before they broke through. Then, fifty or more on five, trapped in a cave, and Shinayne knew they would meet their ends. The storms brought no rain, but the flashes of lightning from the south and west reflected off of the slopes across the vale.
“Think, someone think of something.” The elf had filled her waterskins, packed the leftover cooked meats of scavengers, and sharpened her blades three times.
“We tried to run twice, they will not leave. They have no homes, no predators, and their patience is borderline endless. We are sure there is no other way out, Zen?” James was at his wits’ end with no ideas.
“None. Could take me weeks or more to go down, straight down that is, and might be for nothin’ anyway. We’d starve before I got us anywhere. I been praying a lot, Vundren’s mountains and all. But, that is that.” Zen had his armor on, he was ready for a day now, just like the rest of them.
“Saberrak?” Shinayne looked to her horned scouting companion.
“We have run all day, hid at night. Best I have is that they would never expect us to charge out with the sun down. Surprise might help, all I have, I do not think they will fall for me being the bait again.”
“Agreed. Gwenneth?”
“If you can keep me from being skewered long enough, I can unleash quite a bit. But they are big, fast, and everywhere. I have some ideas, but nothing safe, and nothing that won’t require us getting close and them chasing right behind. Sorry.”
“What we do then? I can’t live with getting’ ye’ all killed on account o’ me.” Zen hung his head.
“No one knows we are here, no one is coming, and there is nowhere for what, three days?” James checked his blade, examining the edge, it was sharp.
“Aye, three days is me best guess, northwest to Evermont.”
“We can starve here, as we won’t catch anymore scavengers, and we can’t wait them out. They are cannibals, they ate the last one of them we killed. They can likely eat one or two of their women and live a week. We won’t last another four days. Unless we ate each other.” James chuckled, he knew not what else to do with his tensions and fears but introduce some humor.
“My vote is Saberrak, he could feed us for a fortnight.” Shinayne elbowed the gray gladiator as she smiled.
“Funny.” Saberrak huffed.
“So, when do we charge then?” James was serious now, he did not want the joke to continue.
“Can I have an hour, I need to meditate and try to send word to Lavress.” Shinayne sniffled.
“Aye, make it two. I have me father and Vundren almighty, got some things that need said.”
“Agreed, I will, well, you know. Whoever listens I guess.” James smiled, walked to the rear of the cavern where they had been relieving themselves, and knelt to pray.
“Me too.” Saberrak walked toward the left side of the cavern.
“Who are you praying to then, horned one?” Gwenneth asked.
“Annar I guess, who else?”
“Oh.” Gwenne got quiet, being the only one not in prayer. She looked to her books, her staff that glowed, and felt terribly alone all of the sudden as she faced death all by herself.
Zen picked up on it, just the slight lack of words, the missing sarcastic retort, he knew.
“And Vundren, I ask ye’ give Gwenneth Lazlette the strength and stamina to help us make it out alive. Ye’ already gave her the smarts and the courage and she be damned fearless as it is. Anything for her would be appreciated.”
He said it loud, where usually his prayers were quiet. He hoped it worked.
Gwenneth choked back her tears, even though everyone had their backs turned or heads down. No one had ever prayed for her and she had never prayed. She did not know wh
at to do, what to say, or whom she would say it to.
“Thank you Azenairk.” She whispered to herself.
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Rynnth flicked her forked black tongue slowly, she smelled the storm, the cannibals, and even the giants in the clouds. Her body writhed and snaked from her renewed energy. Centuries underground had made her weak and feeble for her size, but now she felt young. Days upon days basking in the hot sun of the crossroads at the edge of the Misathi Mountains in wait for her prey had warmed her black scales and draconic blood completely.
She looked to the three horses that remained, not at all hungry anymore. She did miss the screams of the men burning though, she had enjoyed eating them all. Every time one thought ill of her, thought of running, or even spoke, she charred him and those close to him. She did not need eighty weak willed men with horses, not when she had three slaves and was at full strength.
“Gilthirix vax avux astrixieras.” She hissed.
Veuric sat on her back, his black robes tied around his waist, pale skin now red and burned. His mind was lost in her will, all he did anymore was speak to her, sing to her, do what she willed when she willed it. His burned face, black on one side, sunburned red on the other, turned toward Queen Katrina and Faldrune the red minotaur.
“Her majesticness Rynnth says to be ready. Many are coming, and all will die.”
“What shall we do?” Katrina was weary. She and Faldrune had buried the remains and gear that the dragon had not consumed, seventy men worth, and the hooves and saddles. The heat was exhausting, staying here at a mountain crossroads that no one used was pure boredom, and there was no escaping Rynnth. A small pond kept full just around the northern slope, a natural spring had saved them from thirst. Charred animals and horses were the last ten days’ cuisine, but no starvation. The lady of Willborne knew Evermont was not far, but not close enough for them to make a run for it. Night was coming, there was no escaping the mountains without light to see. The only light was the constant wall of flame that Rynnth lit over and over at the crossroads, breathing to keep the stone melted, the smoke as cover, and the ground impassable.
The Exodus Sagas: Book III - Of Ghosts And Mountains Page 45
