The Exodus Sagas: Book I - Of Spiders And Falcons (19 page)

An hour passed. The drooling and hissing snores of the trolls had been consistent for half the time and Lavress slowly and carefully pulled himself out from behind the cold rancid corpse. As low as he could get while still on his feet, the wood elf moved to the first slime covered oily haypile of a bed, chopping down across the side of the neck and held the black hair with his left hand to prevent the head from rolling across the stone floor. The falcata did its job well, severing through in one clean cut. The next one, face down and easy for the hunter, another chop of the inverse curved sword and another head he pressed into the bedding to prevent any last second gasps from issuing in the still of the shadows. The third stirred, Lavress freezing in place, covered in shadows, squinting his elven eyes to look for the exact second he may have to take this one awake. Back down into nightmares it went, and the hunter wasted no time in ripping its life away with a deep saw or two across the throat, his hand over the black fanged mouth as its eyes widened and then shut. Noise from behind him, the fourth was up, the breathing heavy, staggering clawed feet on stone, and he felt it hit him in the back. Not a clawed hand nor a heavy blow he had expected, but an accidental bumping from a half sleeping, nine foot troll. Lavress leapt into the air, striking the throat and severing its powers of speech, landing on the ground, kukri drawn and stabbing across the fiends’ thigh and again, forcing the stunned thing onto one knee. It gasped for air, reached with a claw as it tried to back away. The hunter followed, cutting savagely into it’s neck, then twice more as it fell, placing his boot on the bony cheek of his adversary. Head turned and the wolf hilted blade finished releasing this troll of its life. Lavress Tilaniun of Gualidura remained still, standing over the fifth troll he had killed here, listening, feeling for anything that might have heard him, still curious and suspicious of the elven tracks he had seen with the caravan. Nothing, he heard an owl in the distance, then another, but nothing close. Cautious now, having already missed one troll in here, Lavress wiped his blades slowly through the hay and watched the entrance to the bottom of the tower.

Moving like death itself, silent and unnoticed, he crept close to the cages. Searching the captives from behind old rusty iron bars, in cages meant for animals, Lavress saw two sleeping women, one of them with child, both human, both asleep. Three men, old and near their ends by the look of it, stared back from the huddled rear of the cage, keeping silent and obviously afraid of whatever it was peering at them from the dark outside. In horror or shock, the wood elf hunter thought, for none of them even blinked or talked to one another, just stared at him as he passed them by. The third cage held a shivering and much awake satyr, paying no mind to outside his prison, and by the looks of his wounds, temporary as they were, he had seen enough troll hospitality for a lifetime. Their eyes met, Lavress’ topaz eyes rich and warm looked into the forest brown and swollen eyes of the satyr that lit up like a fire, realizing it was not the Nadderi slaver that stood outside his cage.

“Are you Lavress? Lavress Tilaniun? The hunter that Shinayne and I had been following?” His words, despite the whisper, could not be contained nor slowed. Lavress noticed his blinking increased rapidly.

“SSSShhhhh. Yes. You know Shinayne? Are you alone, did anyone else get captured with you, satyr?” the hunter pried the rusty lock off with ease, snapping it at the end enough to make an echoing burst of metal. The cage opened and Bedesh smiled another smile as if his life had been saved miraculously once again. He hugged the elven man with all he had left.

“No, I’m alone, save these ones he took before me with the trolls. Lady Shinayne loves you, and her and I and Nathaniel, well Nathaniel died at the clawed hands of the …” His lips pursed shut by the wood elf’s fingers.

“SSShhhhh. We have to leave now, the others will have heard me breaking the lock.” Hushed the hunter. “How many upstairs?”

“Only two. A creepy old wizard and an elf named Kendari, cursed one. Are we going to kill them?” Bedesh felt a moment of anticipation at getting revenge, smiling, and then quickly dismissing the un-satyr like feeling a moment later.

“No. You are injured, we are too far from help, and did you say…” Lavress thought he had heard that name before when he was admitted to the Hedim Anah. He had heard the court of the Whitemoon mention that name as he passed to receive his enchanted kukri and falcata blade. He was spoken of in a meeting, a secret meeting that those well above him had been invited to. The decision made for him, the painted wood elf led Bedesh out the way he came in, hearing the sound of many footsteps from above the first floor and below from the basement of the rotted tower. “We must go.”

“The others, the women and the old men. What about the cursed elf and the tro...” silenced again, this time with a threatening blade in the elf’s’ hand.

“No time, they are coming. You are unarmed and an easy target for them. Valhirst is north and east of here about five days. We will find Shinayne there perhaps, I’m not sure. No time satyr. Sorry.” Lavress pulled his falcata and headed into the swamp, his little horned ally close behind.

“Try and keep up. What is your name, since you know mine so well?” Lavress made talk more to keep him calm as he heard the trolls screeching behind him in the distance and knew they would be able to follow at night.

“Bedesh. Bedesh of Haven Glen, it’s near your...”

“I know, I have been to Haven Glen. Beautiful, tranquil, and the best palm wine in the world. Well Bedesh, can you use a bow?” Lavress knew they would not get out of this without a fight and the Satyr might have to help. His friend was limping, the trolls would surely catch them if they managed to follow their trail.

“Know how? I was Lady Shinayne’s archer I’ll have you know, after Nathaniel passed and before I was captured that is.” Bedesh grabbed the bow and quiver that the elven hunter passed to him as they ran faster than even his female friend could have. “Is it true that you and Lady Shinayne are...”

“SSShhhhh. That is a talk for another time, between her and I, not you. Keep moving Bedesh. We make for a temple of the Whitemoon.” Lavress smiled at his lover’s inability to keep secrets. He wondered what else she had shared with the satyr. He was secretly warmed inside to know she was alive and had traveled this far to be with him. The hunters’ concern now was for her safety and getting the invaluable books in his pack to the Order of the Whitemoon. Shinayne of Kilikala would have to understand someday that his secret orders from the Hedim Anah had to be carried out alone. He appreciated her desire to prove her love and devotion to the wood elf, yet this was obviously the wrong place to put such feelings to the test. Lavress felt a twinge of guilt in his chest, an elf had died, a satyr tortured, all over him leaving without being able to tell her where he was going. The safety of the fey and the elven race had unfortunately demanded loss of life. Lavress kept moving in the dark of night with Bedesh beside him, hoping it would not take theirs as well.

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“Get up, lazy elf, get up!! Get on your feet, what kind of killer are you that lets my treasures be taken in the night?!!” the old man paced, hands frantically waving, stomping up and down on the stone floor next to Kendari’s bed. It was dark, save the light glow from the green moon and a touch from the crescent white moon following in the sky. Kendari got to his feet, cold stone floor unwelcome to the touch, and grabbed Shiver from the sheath. His robes wrapped tightly in the chill air, he moved upstairs behind the paranoid raving mad lunatic of a wizard. Warmth, like an invisible curtain of heat, smothered his body in the upper chamber that was always magically heated. The swirling glass ball in the center had many a bright light dancing from within, the bats were squeaking and the wolf was growling, a room of complete absurd chaos in the middle of sleep. “There! One of your kind running away with my satyr!” Salah-Cam pointed out the over-sized window large enough for two to sit in and watch the swamp. Kendari squinted, focusing on the movements and adjusting his eyes to being awake, trying to ignore the commotion that seemed unbearable to anyone wanting to get a clear thought in their mind. He saw them, two figures running quite a way into the swamps, heading north. He could not make out more than that from the distance they had already covered.

“Send the trolls.” Kendari turned to return to his chamber and get his gear. Cam’s hand grabbed his arm, stopping him with a death grip he had not thought the man capable of.

“Loooook Kendari, look.” whispered words issued like snakes in the grass from his crusty lips, staring wide-eyed into the shining glass globe atop a pedestal. Gold light, blinding, the elf strained to see what was causing it.

Two figures, a wood elf, painted face and weapons drawn led the satyr through the marshes. The globes’ vision closed in on the leather pack carried by the wood elf rescuer and the glow of light that issued and screamed from the openings. Closer still, the globe could see through the leather with its magical sight, both the swordsman and the wizard could not blink, enthralled with what could be glowing so much more than the weapons and trinkets this wood elf carried, the telltale glow of enchantments placed upon them. This was different, blinding, radiant, and of course, Kendari saw books. Three damn books, gold and ancient, powerfully magical with ancient elven writing and design. Knowing what would be asked already, the Nadderi moved down the stairs and put on his clothes and magical boots.

“Never another longsword or fine chainmail armor of the Gods, or ancient magicked vials to remove my curses from the powers above. No, never. Books and scrolls, didn’t the ancients enchant anything else?” His complaints focused his anger, putting on his armor and new bracers, donning his straps and belts.

“You are going to get them for me, yes Kendari?” the joy and paranoia almost embarrassing on the mans face, his hands wringing together in anticipation.

“Yes.”

“And the satyr traveled with the minotaur that is being stolen yes?”

“Yes.” Kendari placed his blades in the proper place he always had, Shiver on his left for his right hand to draw, and the other longsword on his right to draw reversed with his left.

“Should the two of them meet, will you kill them both? The scroll and the books for me please?”

“Yes.” Getting annoyed at the line of questions, Kendari brushed past the wizard, heading outside. “Send the trolls behind me, far behind me. I don’t want to expose myself to this one. And get some better security to this hole of a home, it is in much disrepair. And I would produce a large reward upon my return, if I were you Cam.”

“Yes, yes, hurry.”

Kendari had seen that kukri before, seen the symbols engraved upon it very long ago, longer than the wood elf had been alive for certain. Nevertheless, he knew it had the markings of the Hedim Anah, the hunters of the Whitemoon court, the ones that captured him many centuries ago and brought him to be punished with the Nadderi curse. Hate swelled inside him and for the first time in ages, a healthy dose of fear. The Nadderi knew the training and skill that the Hedim Anah employed in their members and Kendari was eager, too eager, to put this one to his blades.

“Massterr, dead ones, five deadsss down below.” The troll hissed fearfully to report any such loss to Salah-Cam.

“Wait a few hours, wait for him to get ahead, we will watch. How many are you now?” The rogue wizard was strife with paranoia from his age, his wickedness, and the arcane elements he had been drinking to sustain his life. His mind cracked, his distrust of anyone he could not control was ripe, and he feared betrayal from a lifetime of being the betrayer.

“EElevens my Lord, there isss eelevens now, umms, maybe nines.”

“Patience my friend. Follow the bats and the wolf, follow his trail. When the elf gets the books or the scroll, you will kill him. Tear him to pieces for his failures and bring me what is mine. You will be greatly rewarded.” Salah-Cam stared out the window, unblinking, feeling his life running out, feeling the elf would take the books for himself,
they were elven after all, who wouldn’t?
“Bring the books, the scroll, and the satyr. Bring me his corpse, what is left of it. This is Kendari’s last run.”

“Yesss my lord SSalaah.” The trembling troll rushed down to get the others. Screeching and hissing, the army of nine foot monstrosities gathered round each other, waiting for bats and wolves to lead them to another hunt for Salah-cam, another reward, and vengeance for years of an elf sticking his hot blade into them when he was angry. Revenge, slaughter, the hunt, killing, swarming, the trolls screeched in the night together, talking over the things they planned to do to Kendari, things they lived for.

Exodus I:V

Southwind Keep, Chazzrynn

“He is a deserter and a coward, you know it and I know it. Allowing, no,
inviting
him here is an insult to our father and all the knights of Southwind that have lost their lives. Did you see our dead fathers’ sword on his hip? Do you care?” Kaya’s words were daggers into the softening stone of Alexei’s composure. The chamber atop the keep, the meeting hall where the orphan family leaders would meet, was still and cold despite the fire brewing inside the Lady of Southwind.

“They have been hunted, starved, chased, lost friends, and seek solace here after bravely standing against the ogre! Who am I to put them in the cold, tarnish our good name with rivalry from our childhood? What sort of Lord does that paint me to be, Kaya?”