“Your father rulhhrrrmm therhhrmm?”
“No, my father was Lord Arlinne T’vellon, but he was killed in a war with the ogre of the Western Wastes, in Arouland. My brother Alexei and I have ruled for the last fourteen years, well, until I left.” Kaya thought back to her abandoned home, her eyes grew distant.
“Will he seehrmmm you out frhhhmm thehrnmmm?” Rosana bit into another loaf of bread.
“Alexei seek me out? No. He would never leave Southwind, he is much like my father. He will guard the west until his last breath of air leaves his chest. His only passion is for finishing what my father started, what the kingdom failed to do. He will stand and fight, watch the wester borders of Chazzrynn, and his concern will only be for his men and people. King, kingdom, Alden, they will all fall a distant second in his heart.” Kaya felt her brother, somewhere, fighting. Her heartbeat quickened at the thought of him, sure it was with ogre tribes of Avegarne somewhere close to home.
She looked to Rosana, the queens’ eyes were drifting off, her feasting looked as though a short nap was about to interrupt. Kaya took a wet cloth, wiped her face, and then began to pat up the blood on her bed. Baskets of food were laid to the side, and Lady T’Vellon removed the loaf from her hands, though it did not come easily, even in her sleep. Rosana’s eyes did the slow attempt to open here and there, but finally rested shut for much needed dreams and peace.
“You did well, Lady Kaya T’vellon. Your presence likely does as much as our prayers do, thank you.” Garret spoke softly, not wanting to disturb Rosana, nor witness the feasting again should she wake.
“I did nothing, father. I was helped in my most desperate moments, when all was lost. I simply need to do the same for her.” Kaya smiled and ran her fingers through Rosana’s hair as she slept.
“Not typical of an assassin.” Garret smiled back.
“No, I guess it’s not. Perhaps I will leave that behind, just like my homeland.”
“I could take your confession, whenever you wish.”
“I am not ready for that, besides, we have no time nor privacy.”
“I have this afternoon.” Garret prodded.
“You will need all this next month for me, father.”
Garret felt his smile fade and his eyes widen a bit. He had heard who she worked for in the past, assumed much of what she may have been accomplice to, but her assumption of how much confession she would need startled him out of words.
“I am here, and that will have to do for now.” Kaya reassured his grim expression. “And I serve whatever purpose that you all do, so bless me as one of you.”
“That is a start, a glimmer from the darkness, and I know you are here for a purpose beyond me. Alden be praised, we will talk more at another time.” He smiled again.
Kaya thought of her long lost home in Southwind, wondering if her brother would be proud were he to know of her actions. She took out her black mask, and handed it to Garret. “Here, now we have a beginning.”
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Vanessa Blackflame eyed Alvander field from her floating position off the hill. Elcram looked dark, nearly empty at sunset, barely a flicker of light between the outskirts and Southwind Keep. As she had suspected, Alexei T’Vellon took all his forces to the east, for the stables were nearly empty as well. As she had planned, Southwind Keep would be no more. Signed agreement or no, she had her orders from the patriarch. The Caberran girl, trained in secret as Sapphire of the East, an esteemed student of the arcane as well, could sense nothing of danger ahead. Not that she cared with the forces behind her and her consort, Eliah Shendrynn.
“This should be quick and easy. As per our agreement with the late wretch, Salah Cam, you may invade Roricdale and Thoranack, they are yours as well, King Avegarne.” Vanessa looked to the half faced rotted ogre ruler of the Western Wastes. He had brought nearly one thousand ogre, by her rough count, a force unheard of in Chazzrynn since the battle of Arouland.
“I will believe it when I see it, human. In my experience, Southwind will not fall so easily. I hope you are more capable than the old corpse that now rests in the black chasm.” Avegarne stewed still over losing his oldest son, Sajogarne, to the last battle here under Salah Cam’s command.
He insults you, how amusing, how dare you work with ogre in my body…
“There is no one here that I can see, brave Avegarne, perhaps you are afraid of the dark?” Eliah Shendrynn tossed the comment casually. It was Salah Cam in control from the inside, his dark spirit had maintained control over the body of Eliah most of the time. His anger at hearing his name tarnished was more than he cared for.
“I fear nothing, puny elf man! Mind your words or you will see how easily your bones snap in my hands.” Avegarne stood and stretched, his bone popping from age and decay, yet he reached his regal eleven foot height. His face was half gray bone, they eye gone with whatever took it, and his scowl showed more teeth and tusk than flesh.
“Enough. Queen Mun Parr of the Hallowmoors, you are ready?” Vanessa looked to her left and up to the held platform that sported a throne of skulls and layered black tar. The monstrous four armed troll queen pointed a clawed finger from two of her hands back to the floating wizard assassin.
“Yessss wees are ready, but what of my take of the wessst?” Mun Parr stood, much to the struggle of the four large scraggly trolls holding the platform of their revered queen.
“You receive Kalik, Hurne, and Silverbridge, as agreed. Then, we have the western lands divided between you, ogre and troll, north and south. East of the Garalan River belongs to Chazzrynn and King Johnas Valhera.” Vanessa nodded to the smiling black fangs of Mun Parr, avoiding her beady red gaze. The trolls she had with her numbered over two thousand. Nine foot screeching fiends, black claws and slimy skin, and the hissing noises were enough to drive her mad.
“Then yousss master hasss not failed, asss we had expected. King Johnasss is wise to honor our dealsss.” Mun Parr sat back down, waiting for the eastern sun to finally lose its last bit of light to the darkness.
I want my body back, Cam, I care not for a false king, I want you dead, and her as well…
“He is no king yet, is he? I think the title a bit presumptuous.” Eliah spoke rudely, his fine highborne elven features betraying his contempt and sarcasm. He fiddled with the curved elven blade at his side, not that he knew how to use it, but he had to act the part of a snob of a highborne elf. His body was gone, to the chasm, courtesy of the late Fadim. So Salah Cam, in the body of Eliah Shendrynn, had to be very clever to keep up appearances. He had tried to escape more than once, yet the surrounding armies gave him no reprieve. Everywhere, night and day, either trolls, ogre, or Vanessa Blackflame had been close by. Eliah’s spirit inside was tormenting him constantly.
“He will be king, and you will get introduced when we arrive in Valhirst, master Shendrynn. But first, these western cities must fall. Johnas wants no heroes left in Chazzrynn, no one to rise up as he takes his other kingdoms.” She studied Eliah carefully. He had been teaching her much from the late Salah Cam’s libraries, yet his behavior was irregular at best. Sapphire of the East knew when someone was hiding something, just what this elf was concealing about himself she had yet to find out. If it were not for his ability to concoct foul necrotic salves that had been slowly removing her burned flesh and scars, she would have killed him already.
Quit toying, you will go back and take off that ring…
“Oh, I cannot wait to meet this, Johnas Valhera, what an honor. I am sure he is regal and grand and brave, oh yes.” Eliah rolled his eyes, having not the slightest interest in seeing Valhirst or Johnas again. Once this battle was over, he would disappear back to the Sullan Swamps, and continue his research into immortality. Then, he would return here, and find his old body and dispose of this pesky elf spirit and its frail vessel, once and for all.
The agent of the Emerald Eight drew her ornate black scimitar. Her black robes fluttered as she levitated. Out of respect for the leading b
easts at her back, she noded to Avegarne and Mun Parr. In their wicked tongues of ogre and troll dialects, as quiet as their races allowed, their armies drew blades and weapons galore. The trolls squatted low and clenched their black claws into the earth. Ogre chiefs whipped their long stringy hair about as they tugged their tusks in hungry anticipation.
“Armies of the Western Wastes and the Hallowmoors, we rip Southwind Keep and Elcram to the ground, and trample it into the pages of history. A quiet march to the gates, and then leave none alive. After that, we all go our separate ways.” Vanessa smiled, the monstrous nobility returned the smile. For some reason, perhaps her scarred face upon such foreign beauty, they listened to her without question.
The ogre began their march down Alvander field, emerging from the pines and hills with careful steps. The trolls lurked toward Elcram, ogre toward the keep, yet within half a mile they were all mixed together. Night was upon them, they swarmed with three deadly legions toward an empty and vulnerable Southwind Keep, and to their applaud they made very little noise.
“You are sure nothing is out of place, arcane or otherwise?” Vanessa hovered behind the last of the troll warriors, next to the finely dressed and hovering Eliah. Her senses of mystical sight had caught nothing, not one faint aura of magick anywhere besides on herself and her consort.
Take my blade, kill her, and get us to a priest you wretch…
“I am sure, I checked three times now, nothing my Caberran beauty.” Salah Cam lied, he had checked nothing. He cared only for maintaining his identity in this body, which right now had become difficult once more. Eliah Shendrynn wanted out, wanted control, he wanted to be heard. He drew the elven longblade, and managed to give it a twirl that looked believable.
“After this, you and I will return west to gather your things. Some time in the bedroom after, some more salve, and then we travel east to Valhirst.” Vanessa smirked at Eliah, then turned her focus toward the closing view of Southwind Keep, and the army about to destroy it.
Vomit, vomit, if you fock her one more time I will kill you all…
“That will be nice, yes, very sweet of you.” Salah Cam felt to vomit, not from himself, but Eliah inside seemed repulsed by bedding a human woman. Everytime he took her in his chambers, the trapped elf inside made it nearly possible to enjoy. Perhaps he did not approve of interracial pleasure, maybe it was the scars or the violating use of his body against his will, or possibly he was even not attracted to women. Salah frowned, not wanting to think that he had stolen the body of a queer elf whose spirit was watching while he rode a Caberran girl in trade for arcane teachings.
“Sweet, yes, but why do you look sour?” Vanessa was suspect now, his facial expressions seemed odd, as if he did not have control of them.
He is sour, and he is old, and wrinkled, and a dead thing…
“No reason, no not you. It is the stench of Southwind Keep, I hate it so. Come, let us assist in its decimation, for King Johnas.” Salah Cam smiled, forcing Eliah out.
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“Steady now, quiet, good.” Hithins whispered through his curved white beak. “Be calm and wait for the order.”
Perrius Alvander, Knight of Southwind Keep by but a few months of age, was sweating profusely. His hand trembled as it gripped his broadsword, the vulture on his shoulder, white or not, did not seem to comfort him. “Lord Hithins, there are more than three thousand, we need to flee this is---“
“Patience young Alvander, we need to get them in close. Trust me, all will be fine.” Middir of Kivanis whispered from the balcony to the young boy of Southwind. He had sensed two or three masters of the arcane among the approaching army, so covering the presence of Lazlette Academy here was imperative. “Brothers Traelsidian, how are your wards against detections?”
Two men in floppy brimmed hats and black robes with blue shimmering glyphs nodded back to old plump professor Middir. Linnel Traelsidian, the older gray wizard had been holding an incantation in place for hours, one that blended the arcane and auras of life into their surroundings. Damoval, the younger professor of the brothers, had been masking that incantation with a more powerful channel that made it impossible to detect. Neither wished to speak, the length of their spells of illusion had them deep in focus.
“Very good professors. Brellmond Graniff, the circle of Alvander Field is complete?”
“It is, Middir. Another few minutes and they will all be inside it. I will take the assistance of five of the thirty five students to hold it up, when the time is upon us. I wait for your signal.” Tall and strong, Brellmond of Shanador had spent long hours tracing a circle of blinding daylight around the field from keep to Elcram. From his motionless position here in Southwind, he was impressed even with himself for inscribing several miles of hidden spell without aid.
“Excellent work professor. Enira D’fallow, are you here?” Middir looked around the balconies.
“I am, professor Middir. The ogre and troll mingle as we speak, though they seem unaware. I have used subtle charms of anger and discontent, so hidden that they will not realize they seek to disobey the commands of their leaders.” Hidden in the walls by illusions and blending arcane force, fat and frizzy haired professor Enira, the one eyed witch of Harlaheim, was ready with all of her tricks and subconscious arcane spells. “They will be at each others throats very soon.”
“Students of the graduating year three hundred forty six, sixteen of you are here with me. You know your spells by heart and have practiced well. Now, we have a bit of a field test if you would, to put practice to preservation. Are you ready?” Middir whispered to the cloaked arcane shadows of sixteen students that lined the battlements of Southwind Keep.
“Yes, professor Middir.” They whispered back, staves in hand, ready to prove what nine years of arcane training at Lazlette could accomplish against an army of trolls and ogre.
“Class of three hundred forty seven, are you ready to prove to the class ahead of you that you are just as skilled in the arcane? Fourteen students with a year less remedial study, yet can you show us what you have learned under pressure?”
“Yes, Professor Middir.” They spoke in unison, hushed from their concealed magicks that blended their forms into the arrow slits in the towers on either side of the catwalk.
“Very good, very good. On my signal, which will be very explosive, professor Graniff will illuminate the fields west of Southwind, with the five students currently tied for the honor graduate award. Then, we will be face to face with three legions of troll and ogre savages. Two masters of the arcane have we sensed in their ranks, so be cautious. Cold will slow the trolls, as will turning them to stone, and setting them afire. As far as the ogre, use blasts of force to knock them down, electricity to stun them, and whatever else comes to mind.” Middir tapped his staff to the stone, his seventh sense was showing his eyes that they were within one hundred feet of the moat. “Any questions?”
“Yes, professor. Is this considered an elective credit for the first semester, or extra laboratory time for the second semester?” Young Kishan Tillir, from Jal Adeen, felt the need to ask her query. The stifled chuckling set everyone at a bit of ease. Though most found humor in it, she was actually quite serious since she was the the favored to take the honor award in the upcoming graduation.
Before Middir could respond, he saw Brellmond Graniff wink at him that all the enemy forces were now within his secret circle of waiting arcane. Middir nodded back, hovered over the courtyard, and signaled Hithins.
“Perrius Alvander, it is time. Tell your archers to ready their bows and close their eyes. As soon as the light dims enough to see, fire at will.” The snow vulture ordered calmly.
“Yes, Lord Hithins, God save you.” Perrius crept quietly to inform the defenses of Southwind to be ready.
“Lord Hithins? Truly, you have quite an ego when your mistress is away.” Middir shook his head with a smile.
“I will have you know that I have whipped Southwind into shape before yo
u arrived. It was most disorganized, the food was awful, and the people need a bit of leadership. I am just the bird for the job, Middir.” Hithins raised his beak in proud defiance.
Middir smiled again, shook his head, and pointed his staff to the center of Alvander field in the dark of early nightfall. “Caldrasiun duthme hiliard hvoom!”
A sphere of white and orange spiraling force whisked into being, into the palm of Professor Middir, and it began to solidify and rotate in fast revolutions. As it hummed, he heard the grunts and roars of ogre hitting the outer walls and gates. Middir heard the screeching and hissing of thousands of trolls climbing with black claws. All thirty five students, his four fellow professors, and all of Southwind Keep and the hidden citizens of Elcram looked up at him floating above the courtyard. He nodded to Hithins, and thrust his sapphire topped staff and hand forward. The sphere spun over the catwalk, past the outer walls, and impacted into Alvander field. The explosion rattled the very earth and walls, sending bits of ogre and troll nearly thirty feet in every direction.
“Now!” Middir yelled over the students and professors of Lazlete Semanarium Arcanum.
Light like the sun on a summer day, a line half a foot wide yet blinding white and yellow, erupted from the walls of Southwind Keep. It stretched west along a stream, curved over the tops of the hills of Alvander field, then wrapped miles around western Elcram in mer seconds.
For one second, no one breathed. The sight of thousands of ten and eleven foot tall ogre warriors, so close to the keep they stood and hovered upon, was terrifying. Blended with the climbing trolls, green naked skin and whips of black hair, coming by twice that number in all directions, froze all in a moment of disbelieving stare. Thankfully, the power of surprise and blinding light had the enemy pause for that same moment and more.
Then, the battle roars and screeches from Avegarne and Mun Parr went up like fires to the sky, driving their hordes into attack. Suddenly, arcane flashes of crackling blue, burning green, flaming orange, and searing white unleashed from Southwind Keep to welcome them. The first wave of trolls over the walls stepped through blue humming light that froze their bodies into ice. The ogre warriors at the front met bolts of lightning by the dozens, and balls of white flame that blinded and burned. Green acidic mist shot from staves on the southside, forming cones and clouds inescapable as troll flesh melted from bodies and tried to regrow as they fell to the ground below. Ogre weapons lifted from dead hands and spun with purple force, cleaving heads and arms from their living brethren on the field.
The Exodus Sagas: Book IV - Of Moons and Myth Page 28
