The Exodus Sagas: Book IV - Of Moons and Myth

by Jason R Jones

  To the outer gates, unleashed hails of arrows from hidden archers of the keep. Then the very moat erupted as the water boiled and thirty or more shadowy tentacles sprouted and shocked everything within reach. Walls of invisible force stopped spears and javelins before the balconies. Several spells erupted back to the keep from an elven wizard and a young female arcanist, yet they met the dispelling fields of the brothers Traelsidian, and fizzled without effect. The students unleashed orbs of every color, exploding, ripping with force, and electrifying the masses trapped below them. The night sky was flashing with uncounted lights, as if ten classed of Lazlette were graduating all at once.

  Orders from ogre chiefs came out as hissing words to troll warriors. In turn, troll savages yelled to each other but their dialect issued in the ogre tongue. Avegarne and Mun Parr yelled for charges and retreats simultaneously. Rage turned to frenzy, then to scattered chaos, and the fields were erupting with ogre and troll killing one another as much as climbing the walls to reach inside.

  A symphony of magical assaults radiated the night sky, directed by the professors of Lazlette Academy. Hundreds upon hundreds of ogre and troll alike perished in mere seconds, and the secret arcane army of Southwind Keep was just warming up.

  “It is a trap, splendid!” Eliah Shendrynn ducked a bolt of lightning in the dark chaos.

  “Back to back, get us in the air!” Vanessa Blackflame saw Avegarne heading their way, with many ogre, and not to discuss battle plans.

  I hope they mangle her to pieces, but you had better not get a scratch on my body, Salah Cam. Get out of me, now!

  “Never.” Salah Cam spoke as he laughed outloud to the spirit in the body he controlled. He summoned levitating forces on he and Vanessa as she protected them with flaming walls and translucent barriers.

  The trolls and ogre wanted payment for the seeming betrayal, they knew not which wizard had led them into the ambush, so both were ordered to die. Trolls of Mun Parr screamed into the ogre and swarmed Southwind. Ogre charged their elven and Caberran leaders and fought off the troll hordes. All the while, the arcane assault only strengthened from those having arrived under cover, from Lazlette Academy.

  Lavress IV:II

  White Spider Underground, Valhirst, Chazzrynn

  The glowing kukri of the Hedim Anah slashed ahead twice, then was parried again by the glowing kris blade near Vermillion’s face on the third attack. Lavress slashed low with his falcata, met by the shortblade of his opponent. The elven hunter backed up a step, anticiapated the double lunge, and struck down with both his curved blades. He feinted with an elbow to the scarred assassin, then kicked forward into the stomach of black cloaked Vermillion, sending him back hard.

  Jehrale Valhera caught his wind, his blades were up on defense reflexively, and he cross parried the slashing falcata that rose up toward his torso. Before the kukri stabbed ahead, he twirled under the elven hunters’ reach, slashing furiously with both blades. Two, then four, then six deadly swings of steel were unleashed. Each made the same sound as he continued his dance to the center of the chamber.

  Clang, chang, shing, ting!

  Never had Jehrale met an opponent he could not kill, nor one so seemingly savage yet so skilled as this elf.

  Lavress pressed on, keeping his stare to the chest of his foe, and began long thrusts and cuts to tire his opponent down. He lunged with the wolf pommeled falcata, then stepped back and countered the riposte with his lightning kukri strikes. His high lunges landed low to keep distance, his parries were horizontal, then he started with even faster stop cuts slashing vertical in between catching the shortblades with ease. His back and forth steps grew repetitious, then he knew it was time to feint.

  Vermillion countered with diagonal slashes of his kris blade, then low lunges to push back with his shortsword. He moved to take an angle in, as the straight forward defense of this elf was impenetrable. He stepped left, then right, and then dove ahead with quick thrusts. Suddenly his left arm burned, then his ribs, and he backed up and placed his guard cross and high. His opponent had moved ahead, had anticipated his steps, and placed two perfect cuts into his shoulder and flank. He felt the blood seeping down, he looked, and the savage elf was circling and preparing another assault.

  Torchlight threw dancing shadows of two masters of the blade upon the walls of the prison chambers. The echo of steel upon steel was nearly deafening, yet the feint commotion of a much larger war above ground could be heard in the intermittent moments of the prison. Oggidan tried to focus, his armblade crossed over his shortblade, trying to overpower Sir Liogan. He had tripped him back over some chains, landed ontop of him, and his crossed edges were inches from the knights’ throat. In between them was broadsword, and a left hand holding his arm away. Both young warriors trembled from the pressure.

  Liogan turned left, then right, then left again, and lifted his knees. He pushed up hard, just hard enough to throw Oggidan back a few feet. He rolled, broadsword in hand, and got to his feet in time to deflect a slashing armblade and a chop of a very close shortsword. The young knight backpeddaled as he parried the fast incoming attacks, high, then low, then thrusts in the dark that met his steel. Though younger by a season or so, his red haired opponent was well trained. His back hit a wall, he dodged left and right, blades scraping stone as he did, sparking inches from his face.

  Oggidan feinted to cut up across the knights’ face, then cut low with both blades. One was stepped around the other parried. He caught the broadsword in his blades again and twisted. The steel edges rolled over a few times, then the shortsword and the broadsword went skittering across the floor and stopped upon hitting a sack of chains. The agent of the White Spider punched ahead with his armblade, but it was grabbed by the knight with both his hands.

  The moans of forgotten prisoners rolled into the chambers, the battle was getting closer overhead, and Lavress Tilaniun knew there was little time. He glanced over and saw the struggle between Oggidan and Liogan, then sped up his assault.

  He danced and weaved with direct thrusts and sweeping slashes, positioning himself closer to Liogan and the wall. The green glow and vibrating hum from the kris blade was unnerving now, nearly distracting Lavress with every parry he made against it. Vermillion kept his stance, a well trained swordsman indeed, yet his blades were half moments behind those of the elven hunter of the Hedim Anah. Half moments were enough.

  Jehrale charged in, stopped at the slight motion of a stop cut from Lavress, then chopped down toward the falcata with both his weapons. He hit twice, thought he saw the blade fall loose, and lunged his kris blade toward the chest of his disarmed foe. Somehow, the falcata spun full vertical circle, a feint of being disarmed, and it rose up perfectly to deflect the deadly lunge. Vermillion impaled himself into the sudden punching kukri dagger of the waiting elf, the curved steel went deep into his chest. He swung on instinct with his shortblade, and that too was parried by the falcata, and then the dagger tore upward to his neck in a vertical line as he fell backwards.

  Lavress did not stop with the cut of the dagger, turned his body and arm in a circle, and flung it underhand end over end into the back of Oggidan Chilar. The boy screamed in pain, grabbed the kukri just before he fell over and would have driven it deeper. He let it go, squirmed as he bled all over the stone, and began crawling for his shortblade in between gasps of anguish and trying to reach his hand to the wound.

  Liogan walked past, kicked him square in the jaw, and took his broadsword from the ground. His bare foot ached, yet he limped to get Oggidan’s blade away. He thought to finish the boy, but it looked as though he was out from the hard kick. His honor would not allow him to kill someone helpless, an ogre perhaps, but not a human boy. Liogan glanced over as he heard steel meeting steel again. The young knight of Chazzrynn charged toward the still battling elven hunter and his cloaked foe.

  Vermillion felt the kris blade hum and start to scream a terrible song, piercing his own ears and those of his attackers. His chest and neck were pourin
g blood, his ribs and shoulders as well, and his parries were weakening. Jehrale stepped back, toward the throneroom, deflecting everything Lavress was unleashing at him with that forward curved blade. Two blades on one, he knew that he would take this elf easily now, despite his injuries.

  Lavress dove ahead, rolled, and came up deep into the guarding stance of his injured foe. His falcata slashed left, then right, low then high, countering both blades with his one. He began feinting with his elbows to give false direction to Vermillion, then spun full circle and chop blocked both the swords to his right. Before his opponent recovered his stance, Lavress swung up hard and deep at the elbow of Vermillion’s right arm and rolled with the cut to avoid the shortblade. He heard a yell of pain, felt his blade take the arm, and saw the green kris blade hit the floor still in the severed grip.

  The shortblade disarmed the falcata that parried, slashed at the elfs’ neck, but Lavress ducked under. His arm gone below the elbow, Jehrale knew he would not live long, but would at least kill this savage first. Vermillion roared and dove at his unarmed foe, off the steps, and led with an airborn blade down toward the chest of Lavress.

  Just as Vermillion leapt at him, Lavress picked up the emerald pommeled kris blade. It burned his hand with invisible pain, it shrieked so loud his ears lost sense, and the green glow was glaring through the whole chamber. He gritted his teeth and raised his arm straight up. Then all went dark. The green pommel flickered and hummed, almost as if a sad ballad were about to begin. The kris blade was all but buried, all the way through Vermillion’s throat, and out the top of his skull.

  He shuddered, his reflexes spasming, eyes staring right at Lavress as the blade that held his mother took his life. The shortblade fell to the stone, then his body, his face first fall smashed into the ground and bounced once as the kris blade throbbed and hummed. Jehrale Valhera, known as Vermillion of the South, bled all over the prison chamber floor, and let out one last gurgling breath as he died.

  “Mother…”

  The moaning blade grew louder, the shadows seemed to darken, and the blood that was puddling on the stone began to seep back toward the emerald pommel. Lavress retrieved his weapons, glanced at Liogan and ran for the cells. There were so many, yet one they knew for sure held the heir prince of Chazzrynn. The elf of the Hedim Anah took the keys from the wall and unlocked the lock on the bars. Without words, he quickly enetered and began searching for the key to unlock the manacles that held the barely living Bryant Salganat.

  “Who…are you…is it time for me to…hang…now…?”

  Liogan Andellis knelt next to his prince, and put a his arm behind him. Just as Lavress got the chains off, he lifted his prince up with all his strength. He tried not to look, but it was not easy. Bryant had a swollen jaw that was crooked, his eyes were swollen shut from beatings, and there was old blood on most every part of him. His ribs shown through the filthy rags, and several of his bones did not look to be where they should. His brown hair was matted with dirt, and his notrils were crusted with dried blood.

  “No, my prince. I am Sir Liogan Andellis, Knight of Southwind and of Chazzrynn. My friend Lavress Tilaniun and I are getting you out of here.”

  “I know no knight…by that name…is this more…torture?”

  “No your highness, your father knighted me in the field, not two weeks past.” Liogan waited until Lavress took the other side as they would both have to help him walk.

  “He does… that often…not the first…time…ha…ha…Is the war…over?” Bryant could not see his rescuers, yet he heard faint sounds of battle and a strange hum and song of a most eerie tone.

  “No, your highness, it has just begun.” Lavress walked with Liogan and the prince toward the stairs, hoping there was help on the other side. He motioned to set him down, then snuck up to the door. He listened. Soft steps, several, perhaps ten or more. He shook his head, knowing they could not fight that many with a dying helpless prince to protect.

  “I warned…them…all of them and my…father…of Johnas and the …spiders…he has…no one…listened.” Bryant felt weak, starving, and he wished he could see.

  Liogan looked to Lavress upon his return to help the prince up again. He saw the stare and the shake of his head, meaning they could not go out the easy way.

  “Your highness, can you hold your breath?” Lavress began walking them toward the outer tunnels that held the sea serpent, the way they had entered.

  “Perhaps… a bit, it… hurts to… breath. Why?” His mind was thinking of his lost family, his father fighting his war above, and all that Jehrale Valhera had told him. The sorrow was only contained by his lack of strength to cry.

  Stepping over the still breathing Oggidan, the very dead Vermillion, Liogan and his elven companion made for the tunnels that led to the docks. Liogan looked down as the hum grew loud from the blade and the last traces of blood soaked into the emerald pommel.

  “We will need to swim to get you to safety, my prince.” Liogan nodded to Lavress.

  “Leave me, I… am dead… weight to… you. Tell my… father you killed… Jehrale Valhera, tell him… to get me when the battle… is done.” Bryant whispered as loud as his voice would allow.

  “I am afraid I cannot obey that order, your highness. I have orders to infiltrate and rescue you, from the king.” Liogan rounded the watery chasm, looked down to see if his boots had surfaced, then went around, still barefoot.

  “Two weeks into knighthood and already disobeying, eh?” Lavress chuckled as they reached the submerged tunnel opening they had come up from.

  “It would seem so. Once out, we head south, Lady Aelaine Lazlette should be waiting for us with Captain Shilde. Ready?” Liogan Andellis tightened his straps and buckles as Lavress did the same.

  “Ready.” Lavress took a deep breath, heard the doors open far behind them, and jumped in the water.

  “By the way, master Lavress, thank you for saving my life again. Your blades were nothing short of amazing.” The young knight nodded with sincerity.

  “Time for gratitude and celebration will come when we have your prince safe and away from here. Come, Sir Liogan. It is time to swim again. Take a deep breath your highness.” Lavress reached up and took Bryant’s arm, treading water with a brutally beaten noble lowering to his grasp. He looked up and saw motion.“Liogan, now!”

  Liogan jumped in with Bryant Salganat just as crossbow fire littered the chamber. All three heads dove under the ocean water before the agents of the White Spider could reload and take another shot at them. They looked, twelve black masks with wide eyes in disbelief, yet one pointed to the water. No prince, no bodies, yet they all saw a trickling stream of blood that looked rather fresh. They had hit one of them, which one and how badly wounded, none of them knew.

  Balric IV:II

  Hidden Sanctuary of the Broken Wing, City of Harlaheim

  The edge of the sabre pushed open another old tattered curtain. For fear of catching the place aflame, Balric D’Vrelle kept his torch back behind him and walked slowly. This room was the same as the others. He stared in disbelief at the swollen bodies rotting and swarming with a weeks worth of flies. Most of them he had known or met, some not, but it mattered little now. This was the underground sanctum of the secret order of the Aldane Church, known as the Broken Wing. Obviously, Harlaheim or the White Spider had found it .

  The swordsman spy passed by the corpses, perhaps fifty throughout the hidden fortress of unknown tunnels, and covered his mouth and nose with his forearm. He turned to the right, to where he had hoped to find the Lord Bishop Trebaine, instead he saw men hanging from the support beams. Balric turned away as he saw Trebaine, leader of the secret order who was his superior, dangling motionless in the dark. His tongue was gray as stone and a letter was held by a dagger wedged into his chest. Summoning his strength and resolve, he walked up and took the letter. Trembling with anger and hopelessness, he reached up and closed the eyes on the rancid body.

  Balric looked down at the letter
, it had the royal seal of the Aldane upon it, the seal of the Cardinal as well. Even before he opened it, he knew Johnas Valhera was behind it. The parchment smelled of perfume, the writing was exquisite, and the blood was dark and soaked in the envelope. He thought of his two cousins in the other room, his uncle, and his young nephew Aidrin D’vrelle. All dead, hung or beheaded, and no one on the surface would ever know of it. They were not members of the church, but Balric recalled the promise of Johnas Valhera. The promise was to find his family in Harlaheim, if ever he escaped. And so he had.

  Lord Rodreigo was taking bodies down and laying them in alcoves as Balric had searched ahead. Sir Sebastian had died, leaving a devastated Richmond the Second incapable of anything more than whimpers in the dark.

  Balric read the letter, trying to keep his composure as the sights and smells washed away any hope of help from his order or the church. He had trained with these men, many years ago, after his years with ths Crossguard Legion of Alden. The Cardinal was dead, recently to the populace, but Balric knew that Johnas had replaced him with a doppelganger well before his supposed passing. Fear gripped his chest as he now felt more alone than ever before.

  By order of Cardinal Desmonde of the Aldane Church

  Acelinne, Shanador

  13, Cavikkan, 345 A.D.

  Let it be known that the Crossguard Legion has within its unwanted numbers, a secret group of assassins known as the Broken Wing. These discharged vigilantes have no affiliation with the Aldane, the Church hierarchy, and are considered dangerous men capable of murder in any fashion. Anyone belonging to this unofficial and clandestine operation is summoned to Acelinne, to confess, be forgiven, and disband.