by Jason Jones
“He did? What did he say?” Sir Leonard was half listening, he noticed new faces ahead of the caravan.
“Seeking in hopes to find.” Kaya smiled, her slate blue eyes above a sunburned face glistened, and her auburn hair was dry at the ends and curling.
“Yes, but find what? God, other Gods from ages past, a new city, kingdom, what?” Karai waved back to the children and folk that they rode past. There were more than he remembered, a mix of ethnicity that was not present when they had left, and it seemed the numbers had grown by several thousand refugees. He knew so few of them, yet they all knew the Knights of Saint Tarumin. Something had happened in Freemoore with Cristoff, he felt it.
“My peace has come after great suffering, it has come from the journey. It began with them, and what they seek, so shall I. With them, there is hope on Agara.” Kaya nodded respectfully to both knights.
“Cristoff says we are in exile, jokingly mind you at times, especially now with the dwarves. Yet, exile has never suited my tongue, not in regards to us anyway.” Leonard commented.
“So what is such a journey? Following spiritually guided heroes, across the continent, for a greater hope? Are we in exile and flight from our pursuers and past? That is how many will view it.” Kaya asked. “That is how all would view me, myself included.”
“No. We are being led by one who is led by others, it is divine in origin. It is not flight as much as a path with a destination both real and spiritual. Alden have mercy on us that it exists.” Sir Karai made the symbol of the feathered cross on his chest as he spoke.
“So what is the word for that?” Kaya looked to Karai.
“An exodus, Lady Kaya, I suppose were are in exodus rather than exile.” Karai returned the look, his face was calm and at peace.
“You speak of Sir James and the four with him in such regard? It is great to admire heroes, but staking ones life for it and attesting such powerful holy words from ancient Aldane scripture? I am not so sure.” Sir Leonard noticed elves ahead with the armies now, and ragged looking mercenaries, and even Shanadorian Cavalry. “It seems Lord Cristoff has gathered more blades.”
“So, if there were many of these journeys at once, from all around, what is the plural form of that word, Sir Karai?” Kaya noted the rise in numbers at the caravan as well.
“Exodai, my lady. That would be the plural of the word you seek.” His smile said he agreed without words.
“Exodai, thank you. You have your faith in what you wish, Sir Leonard, I have mine. I had none before, so perhaps for me, it is easier to accept.” Kaya rode ahead, also noticing banners, men, and women that were not here two days past when they left to scout the free lands west of Shanador. “Look at all these people, some are soldiers even.”
“Yes, there are more armed at the front than…” Leonard watched as Kaya kicked her horse fast ahead of them.
Kaya heard it, faintly from here with all the wagons and thousands marching in the heat, but she heard a cry of pain. She whipped her steed ahead of the two knights that had accompanied her, faster around the formed armies. She turned south past the Shanador cavalry and dwarves of Marlennak, around the front to the regal wagons of Harlaheim, and she stopped quickly and dismounted. Elves were gathered, dwarven soldiers too, Rosana’s tent was set and surrounded. Kaya pushed through the men and forced her way in.
“Out of my way!”
Lady T’Vellon pushed in, suddenly next to a kneeling Cristoff Bradswellen and a praying Garret D’Ourmas. Drodunn Anduvann was in silent prayer with his symbol of Vundren, as was the High Hammer Brunnwik. Women with herbs and feathered crosses were whispering, children were staring, and it was hard to breath in the massive canopied tent.
“Ahhhhh! Ohhhhhh! Kaya!” Rosana screamed, tears of pain rolling down her cheeks, blood on the bedsheets.
“Out! I want everyone out! You Garret, you Drodunn, you stay. Everyone else find fans from leaves and cool water, out now!” Kaya tried not to let her tears fall, she had never given birth, yet something pulled her close to Rosana since the day they had met.
Without word nor retort, the men left quickly. Women and children hurried to find fans and cool water, no one questioned her commands. Rosana had sweat, not just from the heat, but from fever. Kaya felt her skin, it was blazing hot to the touch. This rarely happened in the cold of Chazzrynn, but sometimes they would open all the windows in a home if it did. Unfortunately, that would do little good here.
“Ahhhhhh….Kaya….it hurts, the baby moves so much….it burns inside and my face….ohhhhh!” Rosana was near delirious, her brown eyes squinting shut, body rolling back and forth, unable to stay still from pain.
“I am here, I am here now sister. You need water, fresh water, and we need to cool you down. Do you think you would like a bath?” Kaya spoke as if to a child, wiping the sweat, caressing her cheeks and brushing her brown curls off her face.
Garret, who was completely oblivious to what had transpired, finished his prayer that he had been deeply focusing on. He placed his hand on Rosana’s womb, a simmer of white light flashed a few times, and he opened his eyes. He smiled to Kaya and Rosana, then went back to prayer.
“Is that it? What did that do, father?” Kaya snapped.
“Ssshhh…she is resting now, not asleep, but separated from the pain. That prayer is especially long, my apologies to you and her highness. Now, I am going to purge the fever by Aldens Grace, but your ideas for fans and water will keep her comfortable. Please continue, your presence and voice seems to sooth her. She was asking for her mother, so you will have to be both mother and sister for now, Lady Kaya.” Garret nodded, his voice and sparkling brown eyes calmed her rising anger, and he knelt once more.
Drodunn reached up his hand, stubby fingers touching Rosana’s arm. A golden light trickled from his fingers into her skin, then disappeared. “Better?”
Rosana nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
“And what was that, priest?” Kaya was calm, but still holding on the the anger of so many men that seemed unable to do much but make things worse by crowding a struggling woman with child.
“She has fever, won’t eat much, so her strength be failin’ her and the baby. Me prayer, usually for babies that struggle it is, is gonna make her bout hungry as a horse, or two.”
Drodunn smiled as he reached back and took a basket from his brother Tannek. The former marshall of Marlennak stepped back fast upon seeing the glare of Kaya T’Vellon when his boot entered the tent. He nodded, smiled, and closed the flaps behind him.
“Is that…bread…cheese…I smell food Kaya.” Rosana was staring, still disillusioned and drifting in words and motion, yet she seemed aware of her sense of smell.
“Never works that fast, me thinks another basket be needed. Be right back.” Drodunn got up, handed the heavy basket of food to Kaya, and marched out of the tent, yelling for his younger brother.
Kaya’s eyes went wide, the basket must have weighed three pounds. She looked to petite Rosana, all belly and bosom without much else over one hundred pounds, and then lifted the basket in disbelief. She unwrapped the cloth, began to break bits of breads and cheeses to Rosana, who politely began taking the whole pieces from her hand. The tent flap opened again.
“Allright, here we go then.” Drodunn set down another basket, same size as the first.
“This is ridiculous, she cannot possibly eat that much. Her stomach will burst.” Kaya shook her head, then felt Rosana take another loaf of bread from her hand.
“Well, trim it with the water that the elf and lady Julia is bringin then. Sorry, dwarven God, dwarven prayer, for dwarven childbirth.” Drodunn smiled, trying to hide his worry behind his red and gray beard.
“What does that matter?”
“I take it ye never seen a dwarven woman eat then, let alone one that be pregnant and have the blessing of protections from fever upon her? Aye, oh it is a bit messy, that be an understatement. Ummm…ye ever seen when a farmer throws the slop out to----“
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�I get the point, Drodunn Anduvann, thank you.” Kaya returned to Rosana and the feeding that was taking place.
“Welcome.” Drodunn smiled and opened the flap just as an elven man with brown locks and a thin face was lurching in with a large barrel of water. A woman with short slick hair was assisting on the other side, it was enough water to quench the thirst of fifty men.
“Lady Kaya, this is Julia of the Peasant Swords and Aariss of the Riverbows, they done joined up from Freemoore. Where you two find that water so fast?”
“Stream nearby, I swore it was dry this morning. But, perhaps I was thinking of another one we passed. Anyway, it is cool and fresh, a natural spring I would imagine.” Aariss set it down with Julia.
“Is that really necessary?” Kaya looked down and commented.
“Oh aye. Ye ever seen when the summer sun is out and the mountain boars get to the trough and---“
“Thank you, master Anduvann, I understand. Do we have a cup for the queen?”
Aariss Diravas looked to Julia Whiteblade who then looked to Drodunn. They shook their heads and went in search of a drinking implement for the former queen of Harlaheim.
“Talk to me Kaya, keep me awake for this food is wonderful. I whrrrm to tahrrrm of you homelrrhhhm in Southwhrrrmm Kerhhmm.” Rosana talked as she chewed, not realizing it in the least.
Kaya thought hard. “You want to talk to me of my homeland in Southwind Keep, do you?”
“Urrmhhh hrrmm.” Rosana nodded, mouth full of cheese.
The flap opened, a dwarven hand appeared with a wooden cup. Kaya took it and dipped it in the barrel, then handed it to Rosana. It was gone two seconds later and she handed it back to Kaya for more.
“Yes, talk to me of somewhere with a cool breeze, with snow, and without all this heat, sister.” Rosana took the cup a second time, not noticing the stare of disbelief from her new friend.
“Is that cured pork pie there?”
“Yes, but I do not seem to have utensils for…”
“It is fihrrrmmm, just do not tehhhrrmm anyhrmmm.” Rosana picked into the warm meat pie with potatoes and carrots, juice running on her hands and face.
“So, Southwind…” Kaya blinked intentionally, not wanting to stare as the little queen stuffed herself rather messily. “…it is cold there nine months of thirteen, snow covers the ground, and it is a hard environ. That is why we knights thereof are the hardest breed, you see.”
“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 or Chazzrynn, he is much like my father. He will guard the west until the 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 western 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 dagger, one with a jade inlay in the handle that she rarely used, yet it marked her for who she once was. Kaya 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 Vallakazz and Elcram, they are yours as well, King Avegarne, when this is done.” 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, and Eliah pointed that out from his spiritual cage, inside as well.
“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 bones popping from age and decay, yet he reached his regal eleven foot height. His face was half gray bone, they eye gone with whatever disease 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 Tusko, 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 one and a half legions, more than the ogre. 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 highborn 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 highborn 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.
