“Who commands this army?” Her voice echoed across the ruins as blood dripped from the nostrils of those she held.
Everyone looked around as James ran toward her as fast as he could. The soldiers pointed to Harron, but he was dead. Drodunn lifted up Thohne, and Jardayne pulled Prince Rohne to his feet. Shinayne let a tear fall, as did Zen, and Saberrak just stared as Gwenneth hovered above them, alive.
The men were floating, under her powers, fifty feet above the ground as Prince Rohne and Bishop Thohne were brought before her. The peasants watched, the soldiers screamed, and the eyes of Gwenne fell upon the two remaining nobles of Armondeen. Lightning crackled the sky, thunder boomed from the sunlight, and the energy backed everyone up that had the chance.
“If you surrender, vowing never to return to these lands, I will let you and your men live.” Gwenneth looked to Prince Rohne as Jardayne held a blade to his throat.
“I hope you say no, with all my heart.” Jardayne whispered to Rohne.
“Gwenneth!” James knelt below her, tears in his eyes, not believing what he was seeing. “No, please no. Not like this.”
Gwenne tried not to look, felt her tears swell, then looked to Shinayne. That was just as distracting, as her elven friend just shook her head as well and stifled her tears of joy. Gwenne knew it, and her tears fell as well. She glared back to Rohne to keep her focus.
“My prince, please.” Thohne whispered to his nephew, as the axe of Drodunn Anduvann held tight to his throat. “We fight another day, your highness.”
Rohne looked to the field, to his father back by the hill laying dead, and he felt anger and rage in his veins. He wanted honor, he craved victory, but the surviving enemy forces were regrouping before him and his army was in the air under the awesome power of this wizard.
“We…we surrender.” He spoke through gritted teeth, and hung his head.
The roaring cheers of just over three hundred allied soldiers echoed into the heavens, shook the clouds into parting for more sunlight, and they raised their weapons high. The Armondi soldiers drifted back to the ground, weaponless, and fatigued from the painful arcane powers that had held them.
“Then take your flags, your men, and leave my eyes.” Gwenneth pointed north, still staring at Prince Rohne.
The silence was unbearable, everyone stared as they were released, and the world stood still. Moments later, Prince Rohne turned to his men, and gave one last look to Gwenneth Lazlette as she lowered to the ground. “Request to take our dead nobility?”
“Granted.”
“Request to have our fallen soldiers buried behind us?”
“Honored.”
The pause of Prince Rohne, deep in thought, seemed like forever passing by. Then, he spoke.
“Men of Armondeen, we march home, to Vin Armon. Out of respect for our fallen brothers, and our merciful enemy, no flags shall be raised. March!”
Again the cheers drowned out any chance of noise from the outside world. Over five thousand lay dead on the outskirts of Mooncrest, yet freedom, in so many ways, was won.
Exodus IV:XII
City of Mooncrest
“There are powers that can destroy, there are forces that can create life, and the wills of men and kingdoms can crush and claim both land and blood. Yet the strongest force in all existence, is the power of the loving heart. It knows no bounds, suffers no obstacles, and can undo the curses of time and terror, where nothing else could.” ---Words of Garret D’Ourmas, priest of Alden, upon seeing the temples of mythical Mooncrest. 17 Day of Shaltyn, 345 A.D.
Shinayne T’Sarrin accepted the hands of Arylius Diravas and Lavress as she stepped out of the battle ridden trench. She gazed across the bodies of so many fallen soldiers, and a tear fell once more. The battle was over, and before her was a kneeling knight of Southwind Keep, a younger version of James, yet it was not him.
“Your highness. I am Sir Liogan of Chazzrynn. It has been an honor serving alongside Lavress Tilaniun, his courage knows no weakness nor boundary.” Liogan Andellis stood as the Queen of Tintasarn motioned him up.
“Nor does his heart.” Shinayne bowed to the young knight.
“He saved me, my kingdom, and my prince. He is one of the deadliest swordsmen in the known world, I am sure of it, and a true friend.” Liogan bowed again, and patted Lavress on the shoulder. He went to hand the enchanted bow, Bedesh’s bow, back to him.
Lavress put his hand up, refusing it. “Keep it, Sir Liogan, it is yours. It belonged to a very brave spirit of the forest, and I am sure he would want you to have it. Besides, you never missed. Not once.”
“I gave you my word, master Lavress, and I was trained by the best.” Liogan smiled, gazing at the ruins of a magnificent city.
“Your majesty.” Arylius Diravas bowed to the highborne elven woman from Kilikala, the queen that Loestiri had chosen. “I am Arylius Diravas of the riverlands, high priest of Siril, and guardian of Tintasarn, my blade is yours should you wish to retain me and mine. May Siril bless us, and Tintasarn, in the years to come.”
“Well fought, master Diravas. I am Shinayne T’Sarrin of Kilikala and this---“
“My Queen, of the T’Sarrin line? Then you are ---“ Arylius was wide eyed and fell to a knee once more.
“Yes, I was once in line for the throne of Kilikala. However, that has changed, and now, I am here.” Shinayne put her arms around Lavress. “And this, is Lavress Tilaniun, of the Hedim Anah, from Gualidura. Who I have missed, very, very much.”
“It is an honor to serve you. The two of you have a glow, a radiance with one another that is most evident. Light of Siril bless you both.” Arylius clasped his hands and bowed, then went to pray for his cousin Aariss.
Shinayne walked with Lavress, after more warm elven embraces, and rested on her knees with the remaining elves. They sang the Vytha Vahann together, in elven tradition, kneeling before the dead elven warriors. Their words sent blessings and honors of elven life to the sky, to Siril, and behind them all others listened in reverent silence to the sad poetic words in the elven tongue.
“Ashura teldiame, turas eastae duerman des duehr…”
“Siril atha undirie, ahnas uraoli des hatha a fuehr…”
Shinayne felt a hand, a strong hand on her shoulder, and she knew who it was. She rose, without looking, and put her hand on Saberrak’s, then embraced her horned warrior tight as she finished the verse.
“That is the song, the one you were singing when I met you, it lead me to you out of the ruins in Chazzrynn.” Saberrak spoke solemn and soft.
“Yes, I sang it then for Nathaniel Hanaira, and now for Aariss Diravas and the many elves that fought for us today.” Shinayne wiped her eyes.
“You were singing it earlier, for yourself. I thought I was about to lose my scouting partner.” Saberrak nodded, and looked into her eyes, she nodded back. “Never surrender, Shinayne, and never give up. I learned that from you. As you say, to whatever end.”
“I know, horned one, I know. I thought that was the end, for me anyway.” She wiped her eyes, Saberrak on one side of her, Lavress on the other. “But, it seems that we have many friends, where all along I thought we had only gained enemies.”
Kaya T’Vellon stepped forward and took a knee. “Some of those enemies, have become your friends, Queen Shinayne. I hope I may be given the chance to prove that, far beyond this day.”
Saberrak put his arm around Kaya, grinning his bovine smile that she had survived, and made it all this way to fight with them. “Whatever you were, is not what you became in Devonmir, and obviously not what you are here today. Courage and bravery have a way of forming us, lady Kaya, and I would count you as a trusted friend, on any field.”
Shinayne nodded, as Saberrak spoke, and then she bowed to Kaya T’vellon. “The Gods work in mysterious ways. Welcome to Mooncrest, to your new home, Lady of Southwind Keep.”
Jardayne of Highmont walked slowly through the trench, stepping over bodies, head gazing at the sky above. He climbed out, watching
as more and more sunlight fell through vanishing gray clouds to reveal a bright blue canopy. The Knight General of Evermont walked up to Saberrak and Shinayne, and took a knee. He raised the greatsword up, offering it honorably, with both hands. It was not his.
Saberrak looked around after a quick nod, and his heart twinged with pain. He took the blade, blood covered and well used. He whispered . “Sir Codaius, the Bear of Evermont?”
Jardayne could not speak, but shook his head to the no, and held his composure and stoic resolve intact. He sighed, stood, and bowed to Saberrak Agrannar, then took his forearm to his own. “Well fought, lord Agrannar, well won indeed.”
Saberrak held the greatsword of Codaius, turned, and looked as the last Armondi soldiers cleared the hill and outpost, fading on the northern horizon. He raised the blade of the fallen knight toward them, vowing never to forget Codaius of Norninne, and what he fought and died for. The gray minotaur turned, following the steps of Shinayne, and walked toward James and Gwenneth.
The Knight of Chazzrynn held her tight, still bleeding from many wounds he had yet to heal, but it did not matter. Gwenneth kissed his cheek and beard, searching through her tears for his lips. Her hands trembled, as did his, and the two of them spoke whispered words of love and adoration through their joyful embrace. Many stood around them, but they did not turn from each other to look.
“You…you died for me, Gwenneth.” James sniffled and kissed her again.
“How many times have you faced death for me, James of Southwind?” Gwenneth kissed him back, feeling pain and emotions that she had never experienced, her heart fluttering with warmth. “I could not let them take you from me.”
“Do not ever leave me, not ever, never again my Lady of Lazlette.” James ran his fingers through her hair, wiped her eyes, and put his nose to hers. “Promise me.”
“I promise. James, do the same for me?” Gwenneth felt weak, vulnerable, for the first time in her life.
“I promise, on my honor and the sword of your father, I promise. I love you, Gwenneth.” James kissed her again, and she pressed her lips to his, and then they felt many eyes close to them. Hands touched them, warm touches, the hands of friends.
“And I you, James Andellis.” Gwenneth turned, as did he, and they both straightened up a bit. Then Saberrak grabbed her into the air as Shinayne wrapped her arms around James. There were no words, nothing spoken that could say what they felt, but something was missing.
That something whispered quietly from beside them, as loud as he could, tears rolling down his black beard.
“Thank… you, all …o’ you, me… closest friends. I still don’t believe we are…alive..and..we did it.” Azenairk Thalanaxe held out his arms, smothered by his companions, and thanked Vundren over and over that they were all alive.
They stared out across the ruins of majestic Mooncrest, watching thousands of people slowly wander into the streets from the east. Little by little, barely noticeable to eyes that did not know to look, green leaves began to grow on the trees. Flowers from long dead plants took color and bloom, and the city looked alive with life. Sunlight sparkled the sandstone, the palace, even the tower and the temples. Voices of men, women, and children could be heard, all in wonderment and awe of the mythical fable they now stood in. Children ran up and down the roads and bridges, and joy echoed in the place once cursed for all eternity.
LCMVXILCMVXILCMVXILCMVXIL
The shadow over him growled, the stomping of a slow march woke him, and the sun glared in his eyes. Kendari looked up, seeing the deer guarding over him as straggling Armondeen forces headed north, flags lowered and heads down. They looked to him and the deer as they passed, and to the giant black horned skull still smoldering behind him. The Nadderi looked at the grove, all the downed trees from the sword of Kashtamias, and then to his wilderness protector.
“Well, I see Seirena has a sense of humor, allowing you to live and haunt me another day.” Kendari stood, painful as it was with all his injuries, and then picked up his blades. It hurt to sheath them, but he did, and leaned against a tree. “I am not young anymore, this much is evident.”
The deer nodded to him and licked his hand.
“You did well for a meal on four legs, I am impressed. Very courageous, indeed.” Kendari bowed to the forest animal.
Something moved to his left, and he spun to look, hands on his hilts. The cursed swordsman squinted, seeing a unicorn walking in the grove, not fifty feet away. Then, a wolf passed by, and then another. They all walked circles around the grove, as if protecting it. Then, Kendari saw white steps and stones beyond, hidden past the trees, and he backed up.
“Temple of the Whitemoon, I suppose they would prefer I was not here. The feeling is mutual.” Kendari bowed toward the unicorn, it nodded back, and he walked south down the hill, the deer following.
He stopped and looked at the ruins. It was breathtaking, and he saw many people there. Cheers echoed, people by the thousands filled the streets, and he heard laughter. The Nadderi heard children laughing in the city, and saw it coming to life, just after a war. He nodded toward who he knew was there, and the deer nodded as well.
“I know she is down there, and your friend Lavress. I know, I can see him from here, and Shinayne as well. Go.” Kendari whispered.
The deer looked up at him with an awkward glance, a confused stare, and shook its head.
“No? Then you will go to the temple?” Kendari smiled.
The deer shook its head to the no again, still looking perplexed at the cursed elf.
“So you stay with me then, to see this bargain between Seirena and I to completion?”
The deer nodded yes.
“The we will have to clear the air between us, between you and I.” Kendari took a knee and hung his head. “For I know who you are, and I have known for some time, Bedesh of Haven Glen.”
The deer let a tear drop from his eye, and nodded to the yes. The satyr, reincarnated as a deer by the Goddess, sent to watch over his own killer, nuzzled Kendari’s cursed face.
He forced his eyes closed tight, felt the pain in his chest and throat, knowing he had murdered Bedesh in a sacred place, back in Chazzrynn. The horns, the little hooves, the nervousness, and all that he saw had been telling him. Kendari just tried to avoid accepting it. He whispered, not in a malicious tone, but in a quiet respectful one.
“I have never said what I am about to say, and do not ever expect to hear it again.” He looked to the deer, his green eyes watering as he met the forest brown stare. “I am sorry, Bedesh, please forgive me.”
Bedesh nodded his forgiveness, rubbed his head under Kendari’s arm, and stood overlooking the southern ruins of Mooncrest from far north. The moment lasted long minutes, long silence from the cursed swordsman and the deer, and the rain began to fall on a sunlit day.
“Enough of this then. I would assume that by your Goddess, I am not completely forgiven?” Kendari thought of the demon, the dark worship in Armondeen that he had seen, and where to go next.
Bedesh shook his head to the no, many times to the no.
“That bad? We saved many though, close?”
Bedesh shook his little horned head again, many times.
“Not even close, eh? I thought not.” He chuckled.
“Then, we need to head north. I doubt the Temple likes my presence. I would surely be most unwelcome with your friends down there, and they need their moment of victory, without my interference. So, where there are dark streets and cities of wickedness, I will find my peace. To Armondeen, Bedesh, Queen Andorra will be looking for us, so let us not disappoint.” Kendari of Stillwood began to run north in search of deadly dangers in dark northern cities.
Bedesh took one last look to the city of Mooncrest, then to the sky, and then he turned north. He ran after Kendari, the elf that had killed him, the cursed swordsman he was ordered to protect, and the last Nadderi who he had vowed to redeem. For such was the love of Seirena, and her mysterious ways.
LCMVXILCMVXI
LCMVXILCMVXIL
Sir Karai closed Leonard’s eyes by the Temple of Alden, they had carried him there, and laid him there in peace before the feathered cross. The knight of Harlaheim put his rapier across his folded arms, straightened his armband of the Order of Saint Tarumin, and knelt with Lord Cristoff in silent prayer.
“Alden take him, but know that his blade and his honor, will be sorely missed here. Amen.” Cristoff made the sign of the cross on his chest and circled it.
The former lord of Saint Erinsburg listened in prayer, hearing the silent song of God, knowing that many had fought and died for a greater good, a greater divine purpose. His ears heard prayer from behind him, from a kneeling Angeline of Charity by the Soujan Temple. He heard dwarves praying by the Temple of Vundren, and elves in front of the Temple to Siril. He smiled, then his eyes opened and his face lost all composure. He heard something else. It was a cry. Not a cry from a mourning soldier, not a cry from one of the heroes he had followed in their exodus, it was the cry of a newborn child.
He stood, tears in his eyes, and rushed into the city streets from the temples. His shield fell from his arm, and the sound was beautiful. He remembered it with his children long ago, but this was different. The baby cried again, and Cristoff ran faster. He saw father Garret, he saw Brunnwik, and he saw Rosana on the wagon, laying down with something in her arms, and elven priest on either side of her. She was radiant as the sun fell on her tan face, and the light seemed to follow her as they pulled the wagon into the streets of Mooncrest.
Cristoff nearly fell, his legs trembling, and he put one hand on her forehead. Garret and Brunnwik bowed to him, smiles on their faces, and stepped aside. Garret looked up, seeing the temples, and walked toward them with a starry look in his eyes. Brunnwik walked with, just as entranced.
The Exodus Sagas: Book IV - Of Moons and Myth Page 59
