The Exodus Sagas: Book I - Of Spiders And Falcons (36 page)

“Heathen come here.” he asked nicely, still in shock over how quickly and politely the Altestani men cut his plans down with a few simple words.

“My prince, what do you need of me? Should I kill them before they leave?” Heathen had not slept in days, watching the doors closely with such high profile ambassadors here. His back hunched more than normal for the old veteran killer of a minotaur. Johnas placed a hand on his horn, the one he had left, and tugged him close, then placing that hand on his reddish brown hide squeezing his shoulder.

“I need to know the name of their galleon, where they hid it, which island, and what false flags they have presented.”

“Done my lord. What else?”

“I need to know where my uncle’s ship is docked, how far north does he wait for our men or try and make for Willborne to investigate?”

“Done as well my prince. May I ask what for?” Heathen was edgy, no sleep does that to even the roughest minotaurs.

“Our northern friends may get a bit of surprise for their disrespect and false pretenses of negotiation. My uncle the king, may be disturbed to know that an enemy vessel has crossed into Chazzrynn waters in an attempt to dock in Valhirst under false trade colors. After turning them away, I felt the need to contact the king I believe.”

“My prince, Altestan would not be an enemy we care to have.” Heathen the red, his old wounds covering his entire body and face, had grown cautious compared to his former self.

“Make sure Gregore' gets a good look at them, have him join the escort in secret. A
good look
at them from every angle, understood?” Johnas had webs spinning in his mind, preparing how to spin anything to his advantage. Using shapeshifters, dead ambassadors, the kingdom and the king, those works were that of a genius in the body of a murdering criminal on the throne of a prince. Johnas smiled, knowing he would profit even greater once he cut the middle men out of the arrangement. There was never a bad deal or negotiation, simply men who accepted loss, and Johnas was not one of them.

Exodus I:VIII

Lazlette Hall, Vallakazz

Saberrak awoke to the sound of blades against stone, sharpening stones, scraping up and down the long edges of a sword. He looked from his vantage point on the floor of the wizard’s chamber to see Azenairk cleaning and putting an edge to the elf’s curved longblade and matching smaller blade. “She got you taking care of her weapons
already
, dwarf?” the gray gladiator let out a yawn, stretching as he rose to his feet, and noticing his leg had been healed somewhere in the night.

“My father raised us to keep our tools clean and ready at all times, horned one, I did
yours
an hour ago.” The priest pointed his finger to the polished and sharpened greataxe and bone straight blade on the rug next to him. “I have
never
seen craftsmanship the likes of these swords Saberrak, have you? They must be folded over hundreds of times and the balance and edge are perfect.”

“A little small if you ask me, but I’ll trust your word on her
highness’s
weapons being worth a lot.” The horned warrior examined them for a moment and then lost interest. He felt trapped, tight, despite the large chamber he was in with room for twice as many as were here. The sense of recent freedom had exposed him to the realization that he did not care for enclosed spaces much, whether underground or above. He glanced at James, waking in the chair.

“Where are the ladies at, gentlemen?” James Andellis spoke, eyes still shut, rousing body resisting the gray morning light that had flourished through the glass windows of the tower rooms.

“They went to get provisions, said to stay here and keep quiet.” the dwarf kept admiring the elven weapons and began to polish from the edged tip to the leather wrapped handle.

“Provisions for what? We leaving
again
?” Saberrak bent to gather his weapons and gear, not disappointed to hear for open spaces again.

“Guess so, your scroll be something more than you thought or were told by the church. I overheard Gwenneth this morning talking with Lady Shinayne.”

“Wait a moment. The women are planning where we go next? I have had quite enough running from city to city already now. I would like a rest and some wine for a week or so. This is getting to be a bit much. We should just
hand the scroll over
to the temple and…”

“Get up and get moving!” the door opened and shut quickly, the prodigal wizard and the elven swordswoman rushing in the room as if they were being hunted this very moment. “There is
no
time, there has been an attack at the Temple of Golden Mercy. Assassins and strange faced elves, no doubt looking for you or your artifact.” Gwenneth Lazlette gathered a few wands, a staff, and was already dressed for cold weather. The elf grabbing her weapons from the dwarf at the same time, not noticing the fine polish upon them.

“Wait a moment here,
what
is going on?” James stood up, body creaking, hand trembling from not having had wine for almost two days now.

“Sir knight, we have little time, this scroll
has
to get to Kalzarius in Harlaheim. I have contacted him secretly and he will meet us at the docks with armed escort. His tower is under watch and threat from too many to meet us outside the city, but I assure you he is the
only
one we can trust who also has the ability to fully appraise the writings, the meaning, and the value of what you have found.” Gwenne was excited, exhausted from no sleep, yet full of energy and a sense of urgency that was a whirlwind of frantic movements and words.

“Why can’t it stay here? Not that I
like
your city in the least, but just curious.” Saberrak grabbed the scroll from the table, rolling it up once again and placing it in his leather pack.

“Because, hairy horned one, that same hunter that took Bedesh and cut James and I
is here
, along with dozens of others. We will not sleep well at night knowing they will raid every temple, every building, and murder anyone to find us. We have a better chance in the open to outrun them, and better yet on a ship on the open sea heading to the armed protection of Harlaheim.” Shinayne trusted in what she had seen from the Lady of Lazlette and knew also that these people were not ready to handle the cutthroat assassins that had infiltrated this arcane city. She could feel the danger and fear in Gwenne, that her people faced such men was weighing on the young noble wizard. Shinayne tried to keep to herself that she knew Lavress was heading north as well, and her hopes of crossing his path lay deep in her heart.

“And just where are we going to find a ship to take us to
Harlaheim
?” James was not getting his things ready, unlike everyone else around him.

“Valhirst.” Gwenne was holding back her long black hair, trying to decide which of her arcane texts to take with from the table covered in books.

“
Valhirst
? Are you mad? That is leaving the lions den and stepping into the dragon’s lair! Where do you think half those men
came from
?”

“The nearest port is three days east in Valhirst. We will charter a ship, do not worry about the coin. Lady Shinayne and I have plenty.”

“I am not concerned about gold and platinum, my Lady Lazlette. My concern is for the neck above my shoulders and the daggers in my back from those that populate the most corrupt city in the south. I will be requiring a lot of wine to even consider…”

“The trade caravan already has plenty, we will travel with cover on the main roads. We have all we need. Are you finished now?” Gwenne had heard enough, and knowing that trained killers hunted them was not a feeling she was accustomed to. She also feared her mother would be rising soon and did not want the confrontation of the
real
Lady of Lazlette, ruler of Vallakazz.

“This is insane, why don’t we give the scroll to the priest at the temple in that letter, and alert the local captain of the guard to what is going….”

Shinayne raised her hand, palm out, silencing the veteran warrior. “The priest of the temple was murdered early this morning and the city guard can not pin down the assassins. This city is a place of
learning
, James, not a fortress of war like where you and Saberrak were raised. More will die each night until they get that scroll.”

“What is so important about that old stone relic then? I can’t understand why a bunch of parchment with prayers and hymns could cause this…” interrupted from his constant barrage of questions again, James was starting to pick up his sword and noticed that it too, had been polished.

“It is important because of the rare magicks, blended powers, and age of the writing.” Gwenne was heading toward the door, all her necessary belongings together.

“Then copy it or something, are the assassins working for a collector of some sort? Seriously, what could this…”

“It has power that could be used by those that know how, and its author imbued it with well protected divine passages that I can not get to with my best efforts. Not in one night anyway.” Gwenneth was standing in the doorway watching the band of travelers and warriors finish their armaments.

“It’s
author
? Some writer put secret messages in a scroll. And that is a reason to kill priests and hunt us down?” James was nearly ready, hands trembling, needing wine to settle his agitations.

“Yes, since the author seems or
pretends
to be Annar, son of Megos, Annar the God of strength and brother of Alden. Yes, men will kill for that, James Andellis, many men will kill and wage war over that. A scroll of a God and divine history infused with unknown power, yes they will.” Her lip was trembling, excitement, danger, things she had craved and heard of yet never experienced. The doorway was like a stone wall, Gwenneth had to force herself through, the fear of the outside and terror of what could be waiting for her was a nearly physical force.

“
Annar
, imprisoned by the
devil
himself,
Shukuru
, thousands of years ago for aiding his brother when…” James stopped, thinking of where the scroll came from according to the minotaur. He stared at the floor thinking of the man in the chains, the years that had passed. “Impossible and
ludicrous
.”

“Perhaps, but it is beyond the skill of this academy and it is bringing danger here that we can not hold for long. We need to get it out of Vallakazz and to Kalzarius, for safety and for the truth of what it is and how it was written. Now, are you coming Sir Andellis, or staying here to argue by yourself?” Gwenneth Lazlette knew what she had researched, knew she was right, and was trying her best to keep from looking afraid in front of all these battle hardened strangers.

“
We
? So the Lady of Lazlette is coming with, well that’s a bit reassuring. Very well, to our deaths in Valhirst then, I have nothing better to do.” resolved that having such a known wizard with them, and a supposed supply of wine, James let down his fight.

Down the spiral stairs from the eighth floor of the west tower they went, passing by surprised and stunned students in transit, the minotaur ducking around the tight corners as they moved aside. The gray skies began to dwindle as breezy rays of winter sunshine pierced their way to the snow covered south. One by one, staying behind the lady of the academy, the five protectors of the scroll marched at brisk pace through Vallakazz determined to go from western point to the eastern gate.

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Aelaine Lazlette walked faster, nearly running, and then realized that old Middir could not keep up such a pace. The Lady of the Lazlette Semanarium Arcanum, her black robes whipping in the cold gusts of the balcony, waited for her aging friend. Hithins, his white feathers blending with sky and snow covered ground below, circled above, waiting to swoop in behind his master. The vulture had been in trouble himself and covered Aelaine’s ambitious daughter many times, but this for certain, he could not get her out of.

“The students stated that they saw a minotaur as well, Aelaine, and that early this morning Gwenneth emerged from Dasius’ chambers and crept back to her own with what looked like a stone scroll of sorts.” Middir, wise as he was, had not foreseen that Gwenne would take the matter into her own hands, not alerting anyone to the attack upon her last night and keeping them all hidden.

“She was attacked by White Spider assassins, collected a powerful artifact of unknown origins from a group of strangers, snuck them into the academy and then broke into a professor’s chambers. Now she leaves the Semanarium grounds for the city, all without a word. My little
prodigy
will wish she were simply expelled by the time I am through with her.” the master of Lazlette felt an anger raising in her that only a disappointed mother could know of. Years of raising her alone, teaching her all she knew, allowing her to surpass and have access to the greatest academy of the arcane still in existence, and her daughter repays with such outrageous behaviors. The anger, the forefront of deep sadness and hurt, was what Aelaine had to show, as a woman in power and great responsibility could not show weakness or grief in moments like these. She kept walking toward the western tower, Middir barely keeping pace.

“You go to her chambers, gather all you can from there. Hithins, alert Angeline to try and reach them by the east gate, track them either way. I will go to Dasius’ room and see what she was snooping for in there.” She went up the stairs to the ninth floor while Middir marched straight through the double wooden doors to the foyer of the eighth. Hithins turned gracefully, with a sqawk of acknowledgement to his mistress, and glided toward the southern tower where he knew Angeline rested.