The Exodus Sagas: Book III - Of Ghosts And Mountains
Page 54
Queen Andora walked her fortress courtyard, smiling up at the banners. Orange cloth like fire, two clawed eagle talons of black in the center, one holding a scepter and the other a lance, and the storm continued while they whipped in the night air. She looked up to the candlelight and hoped her son and his mentor had not started without her.
The guards fell in respect as she passed into the tower of the Talon. Up the twisting stairs she went, orange torches erupting with arcane fires as she approached. She hovered now, her arcane gifts allowing her not to tire the eleven stories to the top. The double doors of black wood were open just halfway. One of her Nataloni Nochti bowed, his all black eyeballs turned solid white to announce his presence to his queen from the shadows. He wore just a black tunic and breeches. No shoes, nothing to keep out any cold or dampness, nor block the sun or heat. Unkempt beard, mess of curly black hair over his face and shoulders, yet he had no smell whatsoever. A scimitar at his side, a dagger always in hand, the assassin had no need for food nor water, pleasure nor drink, and they only spoke to her, and only when asked to. Their only desire was to serve, kill, and worship the Nochtilians, as their queen did. Their only sin would be where they eventually went after death, a quite predetermined place indeed.
“And why have you started without me?” Andora walked into the eleventh floor and waved her hand, the doors slamming shut with arcane force behind her.
Harron looked up from the voluptous naked woman across his lap. He pushed back the other young naked girl that was kissing his neck. Then he pushed the feet of the twin girls that had been undressing the heir prince beside him. The women purchased from Yallah to the east were young and intoxicated on wine with crushed kihimin seeds. They would neither remember nor deny anything after it had taken effect, which it obviously had.
“Started, your highness? We have finished twice today actually. How was your journey?” Lord Amirak Harron Vir Magaste took a quick knee, also bare beneath his open robes. He motioned for the mindless harem girls to do the same. Fumbling over one another, all four managed to hit their knees in inebriated fashion.
“Tiring and long. Yet, the king rests his last days in Forrivar, far from hearing anything here in the capital. Not that it would matter much in his state. Are the knives sharpened?” Andora took off her robes, her sandals, down to nothing. She set her serpent staff in a corner, ivory skin and exotic curves catching the eyes of all as she walked.
“Yes mother. The table is ready, the tapestries are up, and the candles are lit.” Rohne bowed to his mother, then kissed her cheek.
“Gimmor is full tonight, I thought I may miss it if the storm had worsened any. Anything of interest from Evermont?” Andorra threw the black and red curtains back, revealing a stone table with chains fastened to the corners in an alcove. A stone altar depicting winged men and women crawling all over each other had a black box at its base, torches and small braziers came afire on their own, and the girls snickered as the room came alive.
“Is the queen joining us this evening?” One of the bare naked girls giggled and kissed the neck of Andora from behind, running her fingers through her black curls of hair.
“Yes, indeed I am. You are just for me, so just sit here on the table, lay down, I will be with you in but a moment my sweet.” She kissed the girl back on the lips, one of the twins of dark blonde curls and hazel eyes. She pulled the curtains to the windows shut, walking around the emblazoned chamber.
“Yes to be true, yes. No knights took our calling, as usual, however we had word from your uncle, Lord Trehad in Devonmir.” Harron pulled one of the curved knives from the black and gold steel box decorated with eleven skulls in silver.He handed one to Andora, one to Rohne, and then took one for himself. The women were oblivious, kissing each other, fawning and pleasuring the three nobles that owned them, and then each other.
“And that word was pertaining to what? He can never return here, not after what he did to himself. He is horrid to look upon, regardless of what infernal powers he has learned to command.” Andora shuddered at the thought of what he and his two infernal sorcerer brethren had summoned in Devonmir many years ago. Their bodies and flesh had changed, minds warped, she would never attempt to summon or reach one of the eleven directly. She had seen what the slightest contact had done.
“No, he does not wish that, not even mentioned.” Harron poured the scented oil, three jugs of it, slowly under, around, and on the table, over the naked woman even.
“Lord Trehad sent his blue imp instead and it has interesting word, mother.” Rohne took the other twin and guided her ontop of her sister on the table. They laughed and kissed, minds numb from the kihimin seed and wine. They had a hard time deciding whether to kiss the gorgeous prince, the ruggedly handsome lord, the delicious queen, or each other.
“Very well, the older one then. Save the thin one and the twins for the ritual.” Andora looked up to the perch over the fireplace filled with skulls and charred bone. There he sat, just over a foot tall, wings folded, and waiting patiently.
“Ushi, wake up, whisper to your master in Devonmir. We are ready.” Rohne danced the older full figured woman to the fur rug before the fireplace and spoke to what anyone else would think just a small demonic statue. Teasing her large breasts with his right hand, knife behind his back in the left, he pushed her to her knees, playfully, and she reached into his robes, the only garment he barely had on.
The miniature demon turned his dark blue horned head slowly, spread his leathery wings in silence, revealing two squatting scaled legs and two arms with claws that held a small parchment. His forked tail ended in razored black bone, serrated and shiny, and his eyes glowed red as he once again froze in place.
“Now?” Rohne put the knife to the throat of the bare woman on her knees.
“Yes now.” Andora noticed the glowing eyes and still frame of the tiny imp.
Slice
The drunken girl gasped, reached for her throat, and pulled up two blood soaked hands to her face. Crimson ran red down her chest and between her legs, over her thighs, and into the black furs she knelt upon. As her head slumped, Prince Rohne grabbed her hair and angled her closing eyes toward the small statuesque demon from Devonmir.
The girl stood, eyes fluttering open, glowing red like lava now. Rohne, Harron, and Andora stood back as the girl bowed and waved her hands out wide, eyes unblinking. The voice that came out was not hers, it was dark, deep, and hoarse.
“My niece the queen, her young prince, and the man that bred my niece to make said prince, since old king Ian had not the seed. Always a pleasure to visit family.” Her mouth clacked as her teeth met hard on every word that was forced through her corpse from far away.
“Rise, dark brother of my father. The moon is full this night, and we are in the middle of our ritual to the Nochtilians. This had better be of value, uncle.” Andora stood proud, naked, tapping her bare toes in the pool of blood beneath the standing host for Lord Trehad all the way in eastern Harlaheim.
The body shambled, awkward steps back and forth, the muscles were hard to move in death. Even standing was wobbly, yet the eyes saw, the ears heard, and the mouth spoke. Ushi the imp stared with his eyes at the corpse of the girl, letting the dark magicks flow through him from afar.
“I was privy to some rather interesting guests, here in Devonmir. Much has interrupted our peace with the spiders, but something curious has come my way, and now comes yours.” The girl began caressing herself, touching and squeezing, looking at her naked blood soaked form that grew more stiff and pale by the moment.
“Then speak it, I have much to do here.” Queen Andora did not care to watch her uncle play with a possessed corpse to amuse himself in his old age and condition.
“Your lands to the south, the curselands, do you know what they hold?” The deep voice came out, a bit of accidental tongue bit off, and a trail of blood dripped from the dead girls’ lip.
“What they are rumored to hold, yes. But it is impossible to pass even a mil
e inside the border. Armies of dwarves and of men have tried over the millennia, all to their deaths. Is this your information, an old myth of lost cities and ancient treasures? You are wasting my time, uncle.”
“You will have to do none of that, if what I have heard and seen is correct. The heir to those mountains was here, he has the dust of his ancestors to make entrance where none others could.” The body teetered, the other girls played on the stone table, not paying the least attention to what transpired or was spoken in the other room.
“My forces here in Vin Armon are not ready to take an army headed to the ruins, it will take weeks to assemble them here. How would you know of this in any regard?”
“A few corpses of spiders I read, the Sassari family had one that knew much as well, and a bit of mind invasion during their short visit here showed me much of those that seek it out.”
“Fine, you have your resources. But I would need to know who I am facing, which kingdom they hail from, and how many men they have.”
“There is no army, niece, none at all. A dwarven priest and but four companions are all that seek out the ruins of fabled Mooncrest and Kakisteele to your near south.”
“A minotaur, a gray minotaur named Saberrak. An elven woman, highborne, a knight of Chazzrynn, and a woman from the academy in Vallakazz. Damn it!” Lord Harron laughed and cursed at the same time, looking to the ceiling and smiling.
“Yesss! How do you know them, breeder of queens?”
“Yes, how do you know of this indeed?” Andora turned to her Lord Amirak and lover.
“Because, they were at Evermont, just two days past. They were honored guests there after braving the Misathi pass and saving a group of little travelling musicians. I was right there, I even spoke to the savage minotaur in person. Damn it!”
“Father, those five are travelling to Freemoore though, I had spies listening in to their conversations in the great hall.” Rohne spoke to Harron, his father, sure of what his servants in guise had shared.
“He is Lord Harron still, son, at least until King Ian is dead.” Andora waved her finger.
“Yes mother.”
“They likely made up a story to throw others off their trail. After the troubles they had in Harlaheim, and the price that the White Spider has on them, anyone would keep quiet and divert. I believe, those lands are deeded as part of Armondeen, are they not?” Trehad spoke, through the now fidgeting corpse of the girl.
“They are, yes they are.” Andora smiled.
The corpse fell to the ground, the magicks infernal wearing thin, the voice of Lord Trehad was fading.
“Beware the daughter of Lazlette, her powers are beyond her years. The minotaur…has…something about him…protects…him…be cautious. Niece…take what is there..all..of it…and ask…in your ritual…for my forgiveness…from…Forcas…in the lake…for my…”
The corpse stopped speaking and the eyes glazed over black. The skin darkened, the hair fell out quietly, and the body shriveled to a husk. Ushi smiled, spread his wings, and flew out the window, burning a small hole in the curtain to mark his passing.
“With one tenth of what is said to be there, our kingdom would have all of Agara kneeling before us.” Andora looked to Harron.
“They are trespassers, indeed what they find belongs to us, it is our land.” Lord Vir Magaste looked to the girls, two of them passed out on the sacrificial table, the other drinking and fondling her nipples as she laughed on the bed.
“They keep secret from Evermont, they avoided the rest of Shanador, that is why they took the pass through the Misathi. No one will even know when we take it from them, will they mother?” Prince Rohne smiled, his future kingdom about to become larger and more wealthy by leaps and bounds. He had heard that the treasures and forges held golden weapons of untold strength and value, mounds of platinum, and relics that could buy kingdoms from the estimations of myth.
“No, no one will know. It will be easy. Send spies to watch for them. Organize more men from the other cities, we have nearly one thousand here. I will have the Nataloni Nochti ready, but out of sight. Just in case. Let me work up a nice summoning as well. Shall we proceed?” Queen Andora of Armondeen smiled, walked to the table before the altar, and knelt.
Harron took the girl that was still conscious by the hair, touching and teasing with the knife as he pushed her against the stone table. He turned her around, pushing his bare body up to her naked form. She smiled as she hoped he would take her again this day from behind, this time standing over the table with the bare bodies of the twins watching. Instead, she felt cold steel across her neck.
Slice
Slice
Slice
The blood ran across the table, pouring from three slit throats, dripping onto the floor. Harron let his young woman down slow, placing her head at the foot of the altar to the Nochtilians, and her blood fell against gravity as it painted the demonic figures of stone above. Rohne put his bloody edge on the altar, as did his mother. All three knelt in the stormy night. They lit the table, the bodies burning, blood pouring up, and strange light cascaded from everywhere.
“Great exiled children of an unloving God and a banished mother, we call the eleven this night to tell you of the green moon you were cast from. We offer blood to you, great Nochtilians, the rulers of the lands beyond, and life has been extinguished for thee so thine fires may guide us.” Andora whispered, followed in unison by her son and his father. The torches grew red, the blood pulled up the altar and into the dark stone figures carved.
“Bless us this night, this harvest, this full moon. Watch our dead, Mowg, guardian of Mictalan. Count our deeds, great Vasariah, and forgive our family misdeeds mighty Forcas. Cancuru, hold our wills true in worship and keep our souls while we sleep the black dreams.” The queen of Armondeen saw the red eyes flare from the three unmoving girls afire, yet she kept her prayers steady.
“Great Zafiel, punish those that deserve. Lord Typhon, let us murder those that need death. Dark Duke Theronus mark our words in blood, and whisper us thine demands unholy Sarrael. Do not tempt us without reward Yomyae, and make our men as giants of hell in battle great Ussiel. We give to thee for the fires of the underworld you walk, and the forgotten children you lead, Shukuru, Lord of flame and judgment, ruler the hells and firstborn son of God. Send us thy words and wishes so we may serve.”
“What do you ask, Andora? Three offerings as to three replies, praise our father Shukuru, son of God.” The body of one of the twins spoke in whispers, a demon had been sent from the infernal realms.
“I ask your guidance, dark one. Are the exiled rulers of the netherworld pleased with us, our worship, and the kingdom that still offers them tribute?” Andora stared into the glowing eyes that gazed back.
“They are.”
“Will Lord Forcas forgive my uncle, Trehad, for his transgressions?” She waited in the silence. Minutes passed.
“He will not. The powers given are consummate with his price and punishment. Do not ask this again.”
“Would it please the rulers of hell should we take the lost ruins to the south from those that seek to open them, sacrificing the transgressors and building a secret temple there to honor the Nochtilians of hell we revere?” Andora knew if it were kept quiet, no one but they would know of the forsaken lands being cleared, she could do anything there, open worship, anything at all. She waited for the demon inhabiting the corpse to respond. The minutes seemed like hours.
“Yes, this will please the firstborn children of God. This would please them very much.” The hellfire glow from the eyes faded and the burning sacrificed bodies shriveled to husks on the stormy night of the full green moon in Armondeen.
Table of Contents
Title
Dedication
Forward
Prologue
Introduction
Chapter1
Chapter2
Chapter3
Chapter4
Chapter5
Chapter6
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Chapter7
Chapter8
Chapter9
Chapter10
Chapter11
Chapter12
Chapter13
Chapter14
Chapter15
Chapter16
Chapter17
Chapter18
Chapter19
Chapter20
Chapter21
Chapter22
Chapter23
Chapter24
Chapter25
Chapter26
Chapter27
Chapter28
Chapter29
Chapter30
Chapter31
Chapter32
Chapter33
Chapter34
Chapter35
Chapter36
Chapter37
Chapter38
Chapter39
Chapter40
Chapter41
Chapter42
Author
Gratitude
Epilogue