The Exodus Sagas: Book I - Of Spiders And Falcons (17 page)

Shinayne hid behind the tree perfectly, covering her from the charging ogre, her blades crossed in front of her. The first one stepped into the clearing, turning his tusked face, black stringy hair whipping the tree above her head. His spear raised in anticipation of his prey to emerge from the woods, not prepared for quick short cuts to his triceps and forearm. Roaring in pain and surprise, the ogre turned to spear to his left, the side where the cuts had been made, seeing nothing. The elf cut into the hamstring of his left leg deep from behind him with her shortblade and plunged her curved longblade twice into its low back with her right. Not wanting to wait for the beast to try and counter or get up, she moved to catch up with James who had started his march into the clearing. She guessed the field and hills was half a mile to the wall, too far for a hard march if they intended to avoid capture. Yet she moved forward with her new allies.

The minotaur swung low at the ogre’s shins, missing intentionally, the beast skirted his feet back, throwing his balance forward. Saberrak knocked his bone sword away, his axe chipping it, then stepped forward, his face to the ogre’s chest. His reach just enough to grab a handful of oily ogre hair and pull down, ramming the eye of his enemy into his right horn, jerking with all his muscle, his other horn cutting through the side of the head. Blood and more ran down his horns and down the gray warrior’s neck. As the spasming stopped, he lowered his head, releasing the dead ogre, hurling it into another that was charging. It tumbled to the ground, spilling over its dead kin, then Saberrak waited till they were a foot away, axe raised, and chopped the stunned beast in the back of the neck, decapitating it before it readied its bone blade. Saberrak picked up the weapon, much like a large knife to him, and tucked it into his belt. Running, seeing many more ogre and his friends in the clearing already, the gladiator sprinted to keep together. As he passed out of the forest, to his left and right he saw the numbers, dozens, and the huge brahmas, an ogre on each of the five, now six of them. They had been flanked, and retreat was cut off as well. Saberrak grinned under his curved bloody horns. He had been outnumbered before in the arena, never this much, but the feeling came, the determined stare of the gladiator.

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“Ogre raid! Ogre raid! Alert Lord T’Vellon, send for Lady Kaya!” the knight of Southwind put the leather tube back to his eye, seeing the horde of ogre racing into Alvander Field on the southern side of the keep. The spyglass showed a large group surrounding something, it looked to him like another knight of Southwind. His heart fluttered in fear, this having been the seventh ogre raid from the west this winter he had seen. Young Millan Mederris knew that the knights were spread too thin, with the escort of King Mikhail to the eastern coast to visit Prince Johnas, the king’s nephew, the raids in Silverbridge, and troll scavengers south near Thoranak. The last year had seen more ogre activity than decades past since the west was reopened on the order of the King. The plague had supposedly wiped them out, contrarily, the knights of Southwind had been fighting against a reawakened breed of ogre more fierce than most of them remembered.

“Ogre where, young Mederris?” the tall striking man grabbed the spyglass from his subordinate, looking south. His eyes like steel, his posture perfect, and his white tabard with the feathered cross in red trimmed in gold, much like his father’s was. Lord Alexei T’Vellon saw the mass of ogre and saw one of his men fighting in the middle of it. “How did he get out there? Damn it, open the south portcullis, how many do we have Mederris!?” the Lord of Southwind ran his fingers through his short dark hair, moving quickly down the stairs from the wall.

“We have fifty one my lord, fifty-two with yourself.” Millan knew he would be coming, knew all of them would be coming with Lord Alexei.

“Tell my sister to have the archers assembled now. Watch the north and the east. On our return, cover the south should they be brave enough to try the walls.” His orders were clear and calm, voice unshaking, mounting his black steed, drawing out his longsword. Alexei charged to meet the ogre and save a knight of Southwind keep, fifty-one mounted men behind him. Sword raised, he yelled out the battle charge that all in the keep heard, the same yell that the ogre heard before he killed them, the same he wanted his father to hear.

“Where is my brother going?!” the Lady of the keep asked in near panic, placing her steel armguards on quickly, strapping on her weapons, and picking up her shield. “Answer me!” the young boy lowering the portcullis, barely in his teens, stumbled for words and came up pointing west. “Hold that gate boy.” Kaya straddled a steed, whose she did not care, just one that was ready and whipped it forward, ducking under the iron portcullis past the young boys trying to close it. She was not about to let her fraternal twin take more glory for their father, all by himself anyway. She was the elder by almost an hour and had tried to remind Alexei of this more than once when a battle came. Lady Kaya T’Vellon would not sit idly by and man the walls as ordered. Dark auburn hair flowing behind her on the patched white and brown stallion, her eyes like steel, focused on catching the rest of the knights.

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The minotaur backed up next to the elf, protecting her with his size, growling at the surrounding ogre. James stared at the largest ogre there, a plump one on the back of a brahma, spear pointed at them, grinning back in turn. “You have company you fat ugly bastard.” James pointed his broadsword past the mounted beast, to the charging cavalry of Southwind Keep cresting the hill onto Alvander Field. His smile was a genuine one of relief, excitement, and nervousness. The old knight dashed ahead, under the spear tip, next to the shaggy long dark hair of the brahma, grabbing one of the small curled horns from atop its bovine face. He pulled forward, his shield falling to the ground, turning the large beast, groaning and struggling, its rider trying to steady. Between the snow covered ground, the knight guiding the brahma left, and the ogre pulling back and right, the beast had had enough. Rearing back with a bellering roar of frustration, the ogre fell to the ground as James let go the horn. Forgetting the shield, seeing the elf and the minotaur behind him into action, he moved above the fattened ogre chief. The spear spun up at his face, missing by inches, a second attack from the ground went just under the knight’s arm, he caught it and pinned the shaft in his armpit. James spun left, snapping the pole, raising his sword in two hands, and plunged it into his enemy’s chest. The ogre howled in pain, punching the knight in the chin, knocking him back into the angered brahma. James’ vision blurred, a blade, his blade, whisked past his head, striking the furious beast of burden behind him as the chieftain had dislodged it at hurled it back at him. Ravenously flailing to get to its feet and get out of the midst of combat, the brahma roared behind the old knight, snapping him back into his senses. He grabbed the lodged broadsword, drawing it out the side of the beast and across the ogre ready to hit him again. Blood ran down the injured savage chieftain, covering his animal skins and armor and a second and final thrust to the chest put him down for good.

Ogre turned, hurling spears at the charging men of Southwind Keep, only a few steeds tumbling into the snowy field. The clamor of steel through bone weapons and roars of pain mixed with spraying ogre blood from a furious charge painted the battlefield. Alexei pulled his men left past the bucking brahma, past the old veteran knight, sword arms cutting through ogre ranks as they circled. Slowing their pace after the initial wave, the Lord of Southwind turned back, shield side to the ogre, directing his men to cut through their ranks. Steady horses under sure soldiers moved into the fray, blocking massive blows and placing well timed strikes and thrusts, chopping into the giant trespassers. Ogre fell, withdrew, and backed into the edge of the forest line for a chance to defend themselves, now outnumbered more than three to one and exhausted from their hours long chase. “Drive them back to the west, knights!” the Lord of the Keep issued orders as he carved through the confused mass of his most hated creature in Agara. The knights of Southwind did as ordered, well trained in fighting the ogre in the years under Lord Alexei T’Vellon, driving their steeds into the fray, advancing as they cut and deflected their adversary.

Saberrak threw the bone dagger into the back of the spear-wielding beast in front of the elf, it’s back arching in pain, opening its chest wide and defenseless for but a moment. All she needed, Shinayne cut upward across the ribcage of her monstrous adversary, spearing her left blade in between the ribs above the cut, staggering the ogre backward to the frozen floor. Keeping close to the gray gladiator, she cut the legs of those that came near and Saberrak cut the wounded down with his deadly double-bladed axe. Very quickly, the certain doom they fought against was little more than a scrambling retreat. The three found themselves surrounded not by an ogre tribe, but by the guardians of the western border of Chazzrynn, the Knights of Southwind Keep.

James picked up his shield, strapped it over his back and cleaned his blade on dead ogre pelts, not wanting to, or not ready to, make conversation with any soldiers here that might know him.

“Lord T’Vellon” one of the men shouted above the retreating ogre and reorganizing cavalry, “Should we pursue?” James hung his head, sheathing his sword, knowing already who they must be speaking to.

“No, we let them flee. We are stretched thin here. Gather the injured and the dead. Burn the ogre. You fought well men, all of you.” His words were cold, feeling his sister’s presence next to him. Alexei’s blood boiled, again she defied him in front of the men and endangers the keep should this have been a diversion, he thought in near hatred. “I told you to stay, man the walls and archers, protect Southwind, Kaya. Why do you insist on embarrassing us in front of the men?”

“The same reason you insist on not valuing me on the field.” Her words were distant as well, eyes fixed on the huge gray minotaur pulling a bone sword from an ogre body. She had never seen a minotaur close up before, and the rumors of their savagery she had heard of drew her to put them to the test of her blade. “I see I missed the battle again, brother, I am sure that
pleases
you. Take comfort in it.” Kaya dismounted and strode closer to the horned warrior who was conversing with an elven woman dressed in royal purple and gold, beautiful and tan. If she could not be first in battle, she would be first in greeting the strangers. The men of the orphan families of Southwind did as always, ignoring the animosity between the two, respecting sibling rivalry, and following Alexei’s orders.

“Hail strangers and fellow enemies of the ogre plague. What brings you to Chazzrynn and Southwind Keep?” Kaya was pleasant, yet direct, knowing elves were few in the south and this one looked almost regal in her matching blades and fine clothing. The minotaur was massive, she did not know of a gray, and not one traveling with an elf or a fellow knight of Southwind for that matter. She could tell they were not from here and suspected they had gotten lost or run off from seeking treasures in the western ruins like so many the patrols had found, usually dead.

Sensing the current meeting was safe, Shinayne sheathed her weapons and stepped forward to greet the lady with proper formality. The elf saw the garments of a soldier, shortsword and shield, not of a royal elven lady. However, she suspected this woman had rank or authority since no one interrupted her greeting. “Lady Shinayne T’Sarrin of Kilikala, Saberrak, and James Andellis. We have lost a friend to capture, a satyr by the name of…” the elven swordswoman noticed her proper bow and greeting were mostly ignored as she had gestured, open handedly, toward the minotaur, then to James. All eyes, soldiers, the lady to her front, and the Lord on horse, turned looking at the dirty and worn knight. All went silent, save a few hush whispers from the men who had stopped dragging and gathering wood to burn the ogre. “Is there something perhaps, I have missed lady..?” prodding for at least a name and wondering why they paid her no mind, Shinayne turned to look at James as well, seeing him the object of all the stares.

“Kaya, Lady Kaya T’Vellon of Southwind Keep, and my brother Lord Alexei. A moment please.” Kaya walked over toward the knight, observing his posture. He was sitting atop a dead ogre, facing away from them all, long hair, unshaven for years, his white tabard almost brown from lack of attention and golden hilt with a griffon crosspiece revealed itself from the man’s side. She turned to her twin who was also staring at the man and had turned to meet his sister’s gaze. Alexei turned his stallion north toward the keep without a word to the men and rode through the snow covered field, mind full of emotions he could not separate. He knew that this was not the time, in front of his sister, in front of the men, after a fierce battle, to question James Andellis nor face him.

The Lady of Southwind moved closer, in mild disbelief, to get a look at the man from the front. She walked slowly, circling around to look at the him. Blue eyes, staring back at hers, head lowered, red feathered cross covered in bloodstains, under the mess of tangled hair and beard, it was in fact James Andellis, the lone survivor that deserted the keep so many years ago. Kaya felt anger, sadness, moved her eyes to his, then the sword, and back. Her anger welled into tears, then to pulling her hand back to slap the man who had never told her how her father died, if he had died, if he fought valiantly. A heavy breath of hot air huffed from behind her, blowing her hair. Kaya turned to see standing well over two feet above her, the stern face of a horned minotaur, tattoos under his eyes, eyes that told her in no words not to strike his friend. His arms crossed, no weapons drawn, just standing there silently, behind her like a giant statue or guardian of this fallen knight.