by Jason Jones
“Ahhh…almost perfect, almost.”
Cadius released several months’ worth of tension with a collapsing thump into his chair, spilling some of the wine. He poured some more for himself, looked over the arena, and thought of Rinicus three-blades, his old friend for so many years. He looked up, hoping his beheaded friend could see that he had gotten some vengeance on his murder.
The polished skull said nothing in return from the shelf above, nor could it. Then he looked down, realizing that like himself, Rinicus would be deep in the hells when life was over. He drank, laughed, and drank some more as the soon to be dead were announced into the arena.
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His falcon hilted broadsword plunged down from his mare again, and another Harlian soldier felt the kings steel through his chest and met the blood smattered field. Arrows uncounted covered his men and the Harlian forces, their steeds, and the field before Castle Valhera, yet he fought on. Mikhail Salganat turned his horse to the left, trampling another Harlian soldier, then charged ahead toward the raised blade of the Captain of their forces. He did not care for numbers, he knew not how fared the north or south fronts, just that an enemy was still keeping him from his son.
Banner with the black falcon behind him with his squire, Mikhail raised his shield with the same symbol, and charged the Harlian leader. His shield caught the rapier, yet his point reached fast to the thigh of his foe. As his enemy went to raise his shield and counterattack, Mikhail smashed his steel shield up into his face, and slashed his sword across the Harlians chest.
His mare kept the charge, his men cheered as their king had dispatched his third Harlian officer with his own steel, and the king of Chazzrynn raised his bloody blade high. A few more men were cut down, more surrendered, and soon he heard the hails and roars of victory behind him. It had been long since he had won a field, but that feeling came back as if it were yesterday.
The king turned around to rally his forces, Lord Corey beside him, but as he looked, the hope was stolen from him by his own eyes. Out of two thousand men, he had but three hundred or less following. Mikhail looked north and saw the same, General Fandruss and Sir Jallan having few foes left, but perhaps one hundred men alive. The king looked south, he saw Aelaine and Kendrynn Shilde, and two hundred men at their front. He guessed that he had just over half a legion remaining, another full when he summoned the reserves and archers, and he knew that not one Valhirst soldier had come out a gate so far. Johnas Valhera had decimated his men, and his own Harlian forces, with senseless abandon and cruel cowardly volleys.
The rams continued, the catapults flung stone into Valhirst, and King Mikhail raised his hand for the flag of Chazzrynn. His first thought was retreat and regroup, yet the main gate was almost broken through. He thought next of Bryant, in there, somewhere. He waved the banner of his realm, signaling Lord Burrain, Lord Dimitri, and Chancellor Marcus to bring the reserve legion and the siege ladders. Another charge of men, tools of war and siege en route, and another roar of victory erupted. The gates to Castle Valhera fell in at both the south and western fronts.
“Brave men of Chazzrynn, into the castle!” King Mikhail roared like a lion, like warlord on fire, and like a fearless Salganat King.
Thunder echoed from a gray sky with no storms, turning the heads of all to the west. Even Johnas Valhera on his battlements, directly above his uncle, turned to see what it was. At first, only helms rose slowly over the horizon, a row of helmets fifty men wide. Then faces appeared, bounding up and down on armored steeds. Lances lowered as the charging cavalry crested the hill, five deep, then ten, then sixteen rows deep could be seen and heard.
They parted as they came around the artillery and camp of King Mikhail, no one knowing for sure whose side they were on. Everyone was ready for an attack as the cavalry charged toward the dwindling battle. Suddenly, a white flag unfurreled, then another with the red feathered crosses of Alden, and then banners of the black falcon rose from bannermen into the wind. Lord Alexei T’Vellon drew his broadsword and pointed it up to the battlements, right at Johnas Valhera.
“For Chazzrynn, for honor, and For King Mikhail!”
“It’s the Knights of Southwind!” Lord Corey smiled so hard it hurt his face. The cheers went loud, the reserve army charged alongside, and the invasion of Castle Valhera began.
“Ready, loose!” Johnas Valhera’s voice could be heard from above.
Arrows by the thousands flew outside of the courtyard and through the gates. Lord Corey was feathered and dropped dead as were the men with the battering rams.
“Now!” The voice unseen again, but the Prince of Valhirst it was for certain.
Burning oil flooded down the battlements. The screams of men having their flesh and features melted away was a sound Mikhail had hoped never to hear again. His forces were trudging over the dead and dying, right into arrow fire, and cramming into the broken castle gates.
“Light them!”
Torches by the dozens flung over the edges of the castle and created a wall of fire around the moat. The cavalry was in disarray, steeds balked and reared, even the Knights of Southwind were held up at the bottleneck. Arrow slits by the dozens suddenly held archers in black masks that fired into the slow moving mob of Chazzrynn soldiers.
Still, the two thousand men of King Mikhail and Southwind charged in, gloriously, face to face with three thousand well rested soldiers. The ladders hit the castle walls by the dozens, the reserve legion began their climb, and King Mikhail charged through with Marcus Mederris on one side and Alexei T’Vellon on the other. The king looked to his left, he knew the stairs to the battlements, and he knew Johnas was up there. Bloody broadsword in hand, he led his entourage toward the courtyard, and to victory.
“I am coming Johnas Valhera! Your king comes for justice!” Mikhail heard growling as he ran the stairs and his men charged the Valhirst soldiers. The clash of blades and men nearly drown it out, yet it sounded like many large felines from his left beyond the walls.
“I am waiting uncle, I see you brought my crown!” Johnas drew his longsword and raised his shield seeing the king approach. He pointed toward the keep with his blade, far above the courtyard.
“All of Valhirst, to arms!”
Black clad agents poured from every vantage, crossbows fired, daggers flew end over end, and fast blade cuts into weary soldiers spilled blood over the stone. Lord Unarvin charged his men into the legions of King Mikhail, followed by the armies of Valhirst. The courtyard was filled with battle, the balconies and battlements swarmed with Southwind swords, and masked men cut from corners and shadows.
Johnas Valhera watched as his thousands battled thousands in the courtyard, upon the stairs, flashes of black clad agents whittling down the numbers too fast to count. He waited for Mikhail to make it up the steps, then he ducked under his shield as an explosion erupted behind him. Smoke and rock were everywhere, he could not see five feet in front of him, yet the breeze was slowly assisting. Johnas stood and glared down at his south wall as two hundred men of Vallakazz poured in, led by Captain Shilde and Aelaine Lazlette.
“To the king!” Aelaine yelled as her wand let loose a yellow ray of mist, it fanned over ten charging soldiers, and they stumbled and squirmed uncontrollably to the ground. Kendrynn and his remaining men plunged broadswords through them before they could rise, and the forces of Vallakazz moved into the courtyard.
“Kill them! Open the east gates and let our new friends feast on Vallakazz!” Johnas pointed toward Aelaine and Captain Shilde. Just as he did, he spun around having heard heavy breathing behind him. He looked at the sweaty, bloody, armored King Mikhail, with his solid black eyes.
“To the death?” Mikhail caught his breath from the stairs. Something was odd for Johnas to be all alone on the battlements, yet he raised his blade in challenge.
“Yes, uncle, to the death, yes, yes.” The doppelganger raised its blade and shield, and walked toward the king atop Castle Valhera.
&nb
sp; Clank, clank, clank…
The eastern gates that led to the docks opened. Through the passing smoke and dust, hundreds of green and yellow feline eyes atop shadowy forms were waiting. A scruffy man with a patch over his eye drew a longblade and dagger, pointed toward Aelaine Lazlette, and his brethren roared and hissed with feline anticipation. The siege had turned to tightened battle, all inside the walls, and thousands bled their blades red upon each other as night drew close.
Maidens IV:I
Temple of Haddius
Ruins of Mooncrest
“There can be no worse fate for those of divine origin, than being forgotten, forever.”---words from the teachings of Jouvihr, last High Priest of Haddius, Temple of the Sea. Circa 1606 BC
The blue light from the braziers cast no heat, but lit the chambers with an unearthly glow. Water dripped slower than it should, the walls moved as if they were made of living stream, and when water drops hit the floor it sounded as if a thousand stars twinkled at once. Following the blue guiding illuminations, Saberrak Agrannar walked down stair after curling stone stair, deep under the Temple of Haddius. The waters parted before him, and when he turned to check on his friends, the waters had sealed quietly behind them as they passed. The air was heavy, everything was moist and wet, and then they reached the bottom.
A spanse of waves circled like a storm under a bridge with no supports. Deep dark water rippled beneath, and on a round dais at the end of the gray stone bridge to nowhere, stood a man. Green steel chains held his ankle to a central steel pillar, his feathered wings were an off blue, and his robes were torn dirty and barely white. He was at least three feet taller than Saberrak, nearly two men tall, yet his body was emaciated and thin. Bony elbows and knees protruded his tattered robes, his long beard was frazzled like vanquished seaweed, and his wings had feathers that curled up like dried leaves. His sunken eyes emanated sorrow with their effervescent blue stare, betraying his sincere smile at seeing his first visitors in over two thousand years.
“Is that who I think it is?” Shinayne whispered.
“And who would that be then?” Zen had his warhammer and shield up to the ready at the edge of the bridge.
“It is Haddius, Ruler of the Oceans.” Saberrak huffed knowingly, how he was not sure, but he knew. His eyes were misting blue to match the being he walked toward, just like the eyes of Annar when he had freed him. He glanced back, all four of them followed slowly.
“It cannot be, my eyes see five strangers, but I feel to know one of them. Who are you, minotaur?” The voice was a rasping whisper, dry and old.
“I am Saberrak Agrannar the Gray, of Unlinn. We seek the mines of Kakisteele and to rid this place of the curse that holds it.” He stood a few feet before the tall immortal being, looked up, and flared his nostrils.
“I see a beast, I smell a beast, yet I hear the voice of my long lost brother in your words, Saberrak of the spirit of Annar. How did you find me?” Haddius looked down and tried to spread his wings, feathers falling like forgotten dreams from his shoulders, bones cracking as ancient twigs.
“We did not, this was the only sealed temple, and the dead chased us. It was luck, and lack of options. We had no choice but to enter.” Gwenneth spoke truthfully, yet she felt an awkward force from this man that held no trace of the arcane.
“Ha, luck she says, the wielder of mighty magicks from my fathers’ moon, and she says luck, she does, she does.” Haddius laughed and dust showered the air from his mouth.
“There is no luck, the fates were banished by God, as were so many of his children and grandchildren, even his immortal guardians. There is but curse, purpose, and lies left in this world, Gwenneth Lazlette.”
“And destiny, faith, and love? What of them, great Haddius?” James spoke up, kneeling now before this old winged being. His hand was glowing blue like the surrounding waters, the eyes of the man chained, and so were the eyes of Saberrak.
“Ahhh…destiny? Gone with the sister of Seirena and Megos, forgotten with She Who Cannot be Named nor remembered, taken by Yjaros, cast to the stars perhaps. Her temple is but black slag adorning these mountains, her eyes see no more the fates of mortals or immortals. As for love, seek the temples of the serpent queen, my sister Vasentanessa. Faith, you wear faith on your chest, a symbol of Alden that protects you no more than the cloth it is sewn into, James Andellis.” Haddius coughed and more dust flew through the air, it had been so long since he had spoken.
“Annar is free, he has gone to join the others, and he arrived up there.” Saberrak looked up to the grand ceiling hundreds of feet above.
“I felt nothing, minotaur. Are you certain of this?”
“I am, I felt it and saw it. So, how do we free you, Haddius?”
“Me? Ha! There is no freeing me. How you freed Annar, I will never figure, but my curse is beyond you. Annar would lose his immortality and strength to a slave, were he freed. My mother Seirena, her eye was taken so He could see all life as she did, and He placed it as His third in His own forehead.” More dust fell from his eyes in an attempt to actually mourn.
“He, you mean Yjaros?” Saberrak tried to recall the things he had read in the scroll.
“Do not speak that name here.” Haddius scowled. “But yes, to answer your question, yes.”
“My father Megos, his hand was removed so that God could use the magicks of the world and moons. Solumet, my brother and the oldest of us children, was kept in the dark like the second sun, forever in shadows that no one can find. My forgotten aunt, her voice was taken before she was removed from the memories of all and imprisoned, and then her beloved was cast into hells eternal. I protected them all, I protected San Sidomius, and Thane Kalivak, until they came.”
Haddius choked, by dust or sorrow, none were certain.
“San Sidomius, Thane…what is it you speak of?” Saberrak was confused.
“Ah, mortals, I have forgotten. The place you stand now, the city of temples, the Kingdom of the Crescent Moon, you call it Mooncrest. The great forges of the pantheon, they were once Thane Kalivak, when my brother Vundren was here. Now, they are called---“
“Kakisteele.” Zen whispered it aloud.
“Yes, yes indeed.” Haddius nodded with a half smile.
“How did this happen, great Carician?” Shinayne watched the waters flow in circles through the air, like a swirling turbulent ocean that never ceased.
“She that Cannot be Named, she led them here, by accident, I should hope. As my father held Marthentine from the darkness of Gimmor, God and His people laid waste to the city of temples, and his curses have been ever since. The Knights Soujan were murdered and cursed for all time, and I sit here eternally staring at the salvation I shall never feel. For my part, I am damned for assisting my Carician family. Only the sensation of water on my skin can free me, but that sense was taken by God when I was chained by his Nochtilian children. A forgotten being, only freed with forgotten waters, for all the days remaining. I can help you not, and you will never free me.”
Tears of dust floated from his blue eyes as the waters around them roiled and tossed with sorrowful anger. Seas of mighty depths and crashing waves whipped and circled around them all on the dais of stone, much like the storm that surrounded the ruins above.
“By Siril, what can we do?” Shinayne breathed deep and tried to focus.
“Siril? Ah, Siril, he and I were so close once.” Haddius smiled another wrinkled grin as dust scattered from his eyes.
“Is that so?” Shinayne sat, reflecting, thinking deep thoughts as the waters both calmed and awoke her with their crashes and rhythm.
Gwenneth waved her hand and concentrated, some water flowing through the air from the waves around them, and she guided it over the immortal man known as Haddius. She let go, dumping the water over his wings, yet it turned to steam and dust before it landed. Haddius looked at her with a stern stare, and she smiled embarrassingly back.
“I had to try the obvious, sorry.”
“I told you,
I cannot feel the water, I have no sense of touch. It is of no use.” Haddius closed his eyes in futility.
“This storm you make with your anger, it is the same as the one around the ruins of Mooncrest, is it not?” Shinayne asked as the furious waters quelled a bit.
“It is, I must rage it all the day in memory of my misdeeds. At night, I bring the rains. My tears for my lost family. Why? You think you have a way to free me? Do not waste your time, highborn Shinayne, I have tried everything.” Haddius sat in front of them.
“So, who guards this place then, down in me mines and---“ Zen covered his ears as the clanging began, echoing loudly throughout the watery chamber.
Saberrak had two hands on his enchanted axe, swinging wildly into the green steel chains and column. Blow after blow, mighty swings of his steel into these restraints, the noise was deafening. He looked down, not a scratch. He dropped the axe, pulled on the chain with all his might. His eyes hurt from the strain and the blue, his legs pumped forceful steps, and he bellowed out a roar louder than a giant. Nothing moved. He caught his breath, picked up his axe, and looked to the ankle of Haddius.
“Do not think it, minotaur. I have tried, it will regrow before the chain comes loose. It is a curse, and despite my lack of feeling, I do not wish to make vain attempts at severing my appendages to prove a point. After two thousand years, I have tried everything, trust me.”
“Just a thought, that was all.” Saberrak sat and huffed at the chains, then tossed his axe in front of him.
“To answer your question, Azenairk Thalanaxe, one of the Gimmorians guards your sacred forges. She was placed there for all time by God, to keep the curse forever as a reminder to mortals of His power. It is also a reminder to all immortals to never again partake in the forbidden love of our people. We cannot love you in the flesh, and we cannot kill one another. It is written in the---“
