The Exodus Sagas: Book I - Of Spiders And Falcons (18 page)

“Keep moving men, nothing to see here. Nothing indeed” Kaya glared at the beast, then the same to the elf and mounted her borrowed steed. Her dark hair was like a trail of brown waves as she headed back to the keep behind her brother. Kaya planned on talking to Alexei on the matter, knowing he would be more hospitable than she wanted, but she did not want this man in the keep, or Elcram if she could do anything about it. Alexei, she knew, would offer solace from the cold, be understanding to enemies of the ogre, and do what a Lord should to outsiders. Kaya wanted answers, justice, punishment, and to leave the wretch out in the cold for his disloyalty of years past.

“Seems they know you here, James.” Chuckled the minotaur, always in the mood for confrontation. “Mind filling us in before we have to take on another army for you?”

“Saberrak, there is obviously a history here, and one that James will share when the time is right. Do you think it is safe for us to follow James?” Shinayne backed the minotaur off from his antagonistic humor, sensing the delicate situation and seeing the pain on Kaya’s face, and their human friends’ the same. They needed him she knew, since they were more than foreign here, and would not abandon him in any way after all. Shinayne shot a pleading look to Saberrak, imploring him to be a bit more empathetic. Saberrak huffed in defiance at the elf, not overly sensitive to such things.

“We need food, clothing, a good nights’ rest, James. You wear the same symbol as them, why is there such…”

James stood up, straightened up, and looked the minotaur right in the eye, at quite and upward stare. “Whatever they are holding against me was no fault of my own, and well in the past. To Elcram!” The knight started to walk, hands still shaking, wanting not these memories nor the reopening of old wounds to the twins who were now the lords of his former home thirteen long years later. He would simply avoid them. His determination to get wine, food, shelter, a bath, and more wine had taken over any fear or reservations he had in returning to this place he left so long ago. His cares and shame had fallen back behind his need for a bottle and to get out of the cold.

Kendari I:III

Tower of Salah-Cam, Sullan Swamps

Gimmor, the rising green moon cast a shadow of strange light over the dark Sullan swamps and the crumbling rotted tower of Salah-Cam deep in its center of the frozen south. Kendari rattled his blade along the second wagon pulled and driven by trolls whipping trolls. “I know you can hear me in there, not one of you tries to run, scream, nor does anything that I will have to kill your for.” The captives had been quiet the last few days travel, usually the Nadderi had one or two that caused trouble, but not this time. He sheathed
Shiver
, and motioned for the troll brigade to stop their movement, allowing a few more whips to straggle out unnoticed, the elf did not care what they did to each other now that they had arrived. The cursed elf looked to the strange purple and blue lights on the fourth floor, the top story where Salah-Cam did his arcane researches, experiments, and studied.

“
Lord
Salah-Cam…heh!” Kendari whispered in pessimism. “A self proclaimed lord of trolls and snakes in the middle of a swamp. Since we are giving out titles, I would guess
I am the Grand Knight Errant
of slum castle, and these be my royal green knights!” his sarcasm could not be contained at the thought of the wretched wizard telling men he was a “
Lord
” of anything. He had a lot of coin and treasures to pay for dirty work, this exiled human in seek of immortality, that was all that kept Kendari around.

Up the twisting half crumbled stairs that wrapped the tower, quietly, expecting the usual confrontation and threatening tones, especially since his other mercenary would not be returning. A point that Kendari was all too eager to antagonize the old man with, despite knowing it would only inflame the situation. Peering through the eroded wooden door, left half open as it no longer closed fully anyway, the Nadderi watched as the bats from the rafters gazed at him, as did the mangy wolf by the table and the green glowing mist inside the glass globe atop the podium. The device he watched the world with on his lonely nights could sense most things near and far. The ancient human paced back and forth, glass bottles in hand, strange colors of red and glowing black leaving trails of mist. His black robes showed pale white skin and filth through their holes, the wizard’s yellow teeth and few strands of hair bobbing as he limped in the warm darkness. Warmth at least, thought Kendari, since the chamber had magical heat.

“You are late, so very late my old friend.” Not even glancing, knowing exactly where the elf was from his spies and crystal ball, the dying wizard greeted his mercenary with contempt.

“I have arrived with the idiots, a few short, and with gifts and treasures,
Lord
Cam.” Kendari strode as he flung the sarcasm of the title verbally toward the old man.

“You missed an important scroll, powerful magicks on that scroll, too busy playing swords with a woman, an elven woman you failed to kill,
of course
.” Salah-Cam poured the red liquid into a burning kettle over an arcane flame, purple light and smoke rose again from the boiling mass. “The minotaur found something, he keeps it hidden even from his friends,
the minotaur you dared not face
.”

“I was busy with an army of ogre, a knight of Southwind, and a highly trained elven noble
your majestic-ness
. I will track the minotaur, kill him, and get the scroll, yet I brought more than you asked already so the payment will be those enchanted boots I have been promised, or no deal.” Kendari paced the chamber, glaring murderous visages at the crystal ball and the bats, knowing full well that Cam could see every gesture even with his back turned.

“I sent a man named Wellings from Vallakazz to take care of it. It seems you can’t handle all I require alone.” Smiling at the taunts, enjoying the games, and finished with his preparations for this evening, Salah-Cam waved his hand, curling one gnarled bony finger at a chair. It skittered across the stone floor to meet him as he sat to rest, long dirty fingernails clacking with one another.

“Never got his name, he would not tell me.
Now I know
.”

“The two of you obviously settled that he would go after my scroll, since
you are here
.”

“Doubtful. We had some communication
difficulties
.”

“What happened,
mighty Kendari
?”

“Oh well, you see Salah,..he died.” Grinning from ear to ear, hands on his hilts, Kendari was merely toying with him, knowing that he was most likely aware of the henchman’s demise.

“How?” the facetious question whispered out of the crooked smile of the old rogue wizard.

“
Easily
.”

“Pity, he took orders better than any other
fool
I employ to raid and pillage, murder and capture, or any other task I pay handsomely for. His allies charged me much and will want answers.” his false concerns and sorrow for the hired soldier of Vallakazz were amusing at best to the elf.

“You know what happens when you try and undermine my methods and loyalty, Cam. Heads roll, men die quickly, and the trolls fear me more than they do you. You should be careful in your betrayals. S
ome
may be growing tired of them.” The threat was real, no playful tones nor humor emitted from the lips of the cursed swordsman.

Standing up in a flash of speed impossible for a man of over a century of magically extended life, Salah-Cam’s hand pushed into the air toward the ground as if something were there. “
Tindalliov Kivrindil
”, serpents, as big as small trees, red eyes and black shadow scales, a half dozen serpents rose around the wizard, staring at the elf. Kendari drew both blades and stepped forward on guard, ready for anything. “
Gerrianol mivrinsal
” the wizard pulled a black glass straight wand as he uttered the incantation, his eyes turning solid black, the lights dimming, and a faint wind with the smell of the swamps rolled in. Salah’s body shimmered, looked stronger, posture and muscle returned and grew to that of a healthy man a third his age and he smiled at the elf. Kendari looked to his left, trolls on the stairs with glossy eyed looks that coated their natural red nighttime glare. They had been enchanted.

“Threaten me in my
home
, you curse of an elf that bites his master’s hand?! Fool! I could have you in the cages with the rest of the rot in mere moments.”

“Fancy words, bag of bones. I could have you cooking on the end of this blade before your tricks managed a blink. Did I mention I have a
satyr
?”

The old man lowered his wand, snakes recoiling into the shadows, trolls lurking back down the stairs. “A satyr, alive?”

“Yes.” Kendari sheathed one blade to his side, the other he kept out, just in case. “And all I want are the bracers you promised, and the boots to go after the minotaur and your scroll.”

“Kendari, wonderful, wonderful, of course. Where is he?”

“Are we done for now?” the elf looked out the window, swatting a loose bar from the sagging rafter, admiring the night sky and the creatures moving in the frosted swamp.

“A thousand apologies my damned and pointy eared killer, just keeping you on your toes. You are not young anymore either, even for an elf. Let me see the forest creature.”

“This way, ahhh wait...treasures first old man.”

“There on the pedestal, the boots, bracers in the drawer below. Hurry, Kendari, hurry up.” The excitement was gnawing at him as he shrunk and shriveled to the husk of a man, the arcane spell wearing off, shimmering traces fading in the darkness.

Kendari grabbed the bracers and boots he knew to be magical in nature, pulled out his necklace and concentrated on looking for the enchanting auras the gem allowed him to see. The old wizard had not lied, this time, and Kendari placed them on his forearms, clasping them over his chainmail and replacing his boots with the new ones. He knew the bracers were enchanted, nearly flawless and indestructible and the boots had fey magic allowing only the slightest noise, even when running on leaves or cobblestone. He tried to concentrate on the payment and on the minotaur and elf he would be hunting, and not on what he knew the old man would do to the captives. He had seen what happens to them, for days and nights, used for horrific experiments and worse, sometimes having to be destroyed outright after unfortunate arcane transformations. Despite his nature, Kendari could not appreciate the foul workings of this wizard, especially loving the grace and art of swordsmanship. Kendari hoped that he would be gone before
the research
, as Salah-Cam called it, began.

“Hurry up, elf. Hurry. You have to get to Vallakazz, to get my scroll, that’s where they will be heading, I have seen it in the crystal. I have research to do here. Hurry up.” His impatience growing, delightfully, like a century old child with new toys. The Nadderi walked down the stairs to give the spoils of yet another hunt to this foul wretch he had dealt with for far too long.

Lavress I:II

Tower of Salah-Cam, Sullan Swamps

He saw three trolls, green and shivering to his left, and a dozen more ahead on the lower floors of the tower. Lavress had already drawn his forward curved kukri dagger and reverse curved falcata, already moved within a few hundred feet of the foul place in the dark of night. His blades shone green in the eerie light of the moon, dark green of the troll scout he had silently killed an hour ago in the frozen swamps. The painted hunter’s elven ears could hear the trolls speaking slower, less vicious than he recalled. He concluded this was due to being tired and fed, hopefully not fed the forest creature he had come to retrieve. A satyr they had almost lost, Lavress assumed, seeing tracks to confirm an escape attempt a few days back west and north. Lavress knew his only chance to get into the cages would be through the bottom barred windows and to kill quietly and quickly. He knew satyr tracks when he saw them, trolls also, yet the light step of an elven heel had him puzzled. Elves and trolls did not mix and no elf he had heard of would live in this sort of place, in this cold climate. His senses told him the forest creature was alive, scared, and his tracking knew indeed where it was.

Feet moving with small cautious steps through shadows of leafless willows and overgrown marshgrasses, the savage elf put his back against the crumbling stone wall of the tower. Laughing, he could hear laughing now from the top floor, a human discussing something with someone who kept a low tone. Lavress listened, unable to make out anything but that the conversation was in Agarian, his third language, and the man speaking was pleased or amused by something. The wood elf of the Hedim Anah could not find anything to laugh about in this place. Inside within the blink of an eye, through the open door and only an arms reach from a troll nearly twice his height eating a rotted pig. Lavress watched the black fangs and claws tear into the decaying flesh, a wound on the troll’s neck healing slowly, likely from one of his own by the jagged tears in the skin. Bits of meat, barely chewed, fell out the side of the closing wound, the beast merely stretching his neck and tightening muscles to try and get the rotted dinner to go where it wanted it to. The elf, had he eaten recently, thought about losing his stomach if it would not have meant certain death with four other trolls in the same room.

His enchanted kukri placed like lightning around the fiends’ throat, his falcata from the other side, the blades cutting deep into troll flesh, sinewy and soft, blood dark and smelling of fish oil, he sliced the creature in front of him. It squirmed, flailed, and fell to the ground, its head still mouthing curses or pleas with no body to push the air out with. A small pop as the spine was severed was the only noise the hunter made as he ended the trolls cursed life. The other trolls glanced over, seeing their kin laying down, twitching a bit, yet nothing more moved or happened, and the others turned back to their sleep or rotten meats. Lavress lay still, holding the troll head next to the neck, hoping it looked natural in the shadowy light from the torches, hoping the other four did not catch on. Between the rotted meat in his lap, lying under a dead bleeding troll, or the smell of the swampdemon infested tower, he could not decide which was worse.