The Exodus Sagas: Book I - Of Spiders And Falcons (46 page)

“Why am I here?”

The bloody and dirty bearded hulk of a man stepped forward, chains dragging through the crimson sludge, his eyes glowing blue like the ocean in the sun. “You can not escape it, you bring yourself here. I ask you, why are you here?” His voice deep and resonating with power, lips not visible under his long beard.

“I want to leave, I hate these dreams, but they won’t stop.” He hit his knees, sinking down in the bloody ground, leaning heavily on his blade.

“If you were healed, they would stop. If you forget, they will as well. Should you decide, you may never return to this place.” The man sank down where he stood, and crouched next to James as he spoke, his eyes dulling a bit as he made eye contact.

“Help me, whoever you are, I want to leave here.” the tears fell hard, the sobbing interrupted his words, yet something brought struggling air into his chest once again.

“You know who I am. I am Annar, brother to Alden, we have met. Help yourself, James Andellis. You would heal an ogre king to save your men, suffer capture to save your lord, risk your life for friends or to defeat your enemies. Why not heal yourself and be free as well? You do all for those around you and nothing for yourself, save poisoning. Decide to live, you have been blessed since birth, you need not the help of anyone else my child. Believe you are worthy of life. I forgive you, protect my words, carry on from your past, pass on my story.” his voice was soft now, a deep whisper with only warmth.

James looked to ask more, yet found it had all changed. Dawn was approaching, the ground was hard and cold, Annar was gone. There were no bodies, no war, no ogre hunting him like an animal like so many of his nightmares, yet he felt empty inside. Loneliness crept in, the kind that needed something or someone to fill it and keep it away. He concentrated on keeping it away, on being whole inside, gripping his blade till his hand hurt. His other hand glowed blue, yet he had not said any prayers, not even in his mind. For some reason he could not control or figure, James touched his hand to his chest though he had no injury, and asked for it all to go away, for the terror and sorrow to end, for something to work, just this once. The light hummed, coursed through his body, and disappeared as it did normally when he had healed others on the battlefield. His eyes drooped, he felt tired and drowsy like never before, he needed to lay back and sleep peacefully. And sleep peacefully he did, the grasses and vines wrapping gently around him, trees bending to shade him, and birds flying overhead to watch and protect him as their own. Like when he was born, yet James saw none of it.

“His eyes are opening, they’re open Shinayne!” Zen had been praying and humming hymns of his temple for hours now, hoping this man would survive. His heartbeat had been fading, his breath shallow and almost non-existent for hours, and nothing would wake him it seemed. The minotaur had put the scroll next to him in the night and Zen had not said a word about it. Anything was worth a try as James was surely dying.

The elven woman, followed by the minotaur and the young wizard, crept close to the knight as his eyes flickered open. His face was full of color, not the pale portrait of death and sickness he had become. Even his eyes had renewed blue it seemed, not clouded by bags of weariness, red from the wine and pain, there seemed peace in but a glance as he awoke to the morning light rising from the west behind him. They watched as he changed in front of them like nothing had happened.

“Good morning. Where are we?”

“Outside of Valhirst, ready to go in whenever you are.” Shinayne spoke softly, teary eyed, but glad to see him awake after the last few days of such sickness. The others stood over him, silent, but surely feeling the same.

“What is your plan, Lady T’Sarrin?” James sat up slowly, felt for his blade, and smiled feeling it where it should be at his side.

“I snuck in and secured a ship with Hithins, the vulture. Leaves in a few hours at midday for Harlaheim. The Bronze Harpy, good crew, Captain Dennilar the Crab, lives up to his name no doubt.” tears rolled down her face beside her smile, seeing him try to stand on his own. She would not share that they were planning on taking him to the closest Aldane mission in an hour, and leaving him to the priests so they could carry on their quest.

“How many waiting for us?” James pulled his shield from the ground and strapped it tight, then drew his broadsword out, checking it for any dings or scratches. The others watched in amazement.

“Dozens of soldiers and archers, surely assassins of the White Spider, and Hithins detected shapechangers moving about in several groups. The Prince controls the guard, but his Captain is rumored to be employed by the White Spider, and they know we are coming.” Gwenneth, still skeptical of his health, gave a slight, half hearted smile toward the knight and reminded him of their odds.

“White Spider? I have heard of them for certain, not good we have crossed their attention. And we have less than a few hours til the ship leaves?”

“Correct human. Can you walk?” Saberrak picked up the scroll from the wet furs that had kept James warm overnight.

“If we go around the city and try to clear the walls closest to the dock, the whole of them could be waiting there and we would be acquired easily outside, bad idea. If we go straight through, they will have to keep it more contained and be more careful. I can lead if you wish, I know that side of the Valhirst well enough.” James smiled, raised his shield and began to march down the hill toward the high rising city.

“Hrrmmph!” Saberrak snorted, arms folded as usual, “Where in the world did
that
come from?”

“I don’t think the
world
had anything to do with it. Those of little faith are prone to such questions, my great horned friend.” Azenairk picked up his warhammer and followed the man down toward the danger that lay in wait. The others followed, waiting for James to slip or fall once again, and to their surprise, he did not.

Saberrak looked at the scroll, then to the sky in wonder. He had never prayed, never knew much of Gods or religion besides quick stories of the soon to be dead brought into Unlinn. Arena life had little time for faith in anything not made of steel or made to kill. There were many questions about too many a thing that the gray gladiator now had. James Andellis and his miraculous recovery were but just the beginning. The minotaur tucked the scroll of Annar away in his pack and followed his strangely divine friends of the surface.

Lavress I:IV

Sacred Chambers, Temple of the Whitemoon

Relaxed and serene, Bedesh rested on the soft grass bed, eating grapes and drinking the honey wines brought to him by the multitude of fairy beings that lived in the underground temple. The hospitality was warm and full of love and spiritual peace here, he thought. There was so much warm light and many creatures of all shapes and sizes in harmony with one another. He had seen much of Kilbura, the great sphinx and priest of the temple, but the princess’ court was busy with sealed doors of oak root and vines. Lavress had entered to meet with Finwel-Dur, and only her handmaidens and priests were allowed in.

The satyr felt strangely at ease, his nerves barely trembling, and the cold of the outside world had completely vanished. His thoughts gently drifted to Lady Shinayne and the others, wondering where they were, knowing they must have escaped the trolls and ogre that had swarmed them in the western wastes. Saberrak surely was watching out for her and the human knight that had challenged the legion of tusked warriors at the fields of Arouland. Bedesh had told Lavress of the battles and of Shinayne following him to Chazzrynn, but it was if he already knew, or had not the time to be distracted by it. He barely noticed, in his relaxed wandering mind, the naked women of the forest walking through the walls of earth and vine, almost floating down the stone steps into the inner temple. Three of them, pale skinned, long red and green forest curls with flowers of various colors seeming to sprout from their locks, all looking at him and smiling as they passed through the door to the princesses private domicile. Despite wearing nothing to cover themselves, the fey women of the forest looked as regal as any noble he had ever laid eyes upon. The forest satyr, many months from home, felt peace and sleep come over him after but a glance from the three sultry and divine dryads of the temple. And his eyes closed.

Lavress remained on a knee, his head bowed before the twisted roots that formed the face of Seirena, Goddess of the earth, of life, and of the beauty of the fey. The incense burned, candles cast green and orange light throughout the circular room, and the sounds in ancient tongues whispered from fairy, to sphinx, to dryad, and even the sprites that gathered the foods of the forest and maintained the decorations. They spoke of the three books of ancient high elven magic, ones that could not ever be duplicated and that sat on the small stone table atop the earthen floor of the temple. They glowed with their golden light, bound in gold and etched in elven so old that Lavress could not make out a word. He knew also, that many concerns were spoken of the fourth book and where the renegade noble elf, Eliah Shendrynn, could be taking it. The high protector of
this
temple, as there were seven on this continent that the wild elf was aware, stared at him in silence. Also a member of the Hedim Anah, Jevendial of the Greenbanyans pack was as tall as Lavress, but his smooth brown canine appearance marked him as a hiroon, a wise and powerful wolf lord found only in hiding around temples as they had but less than a hundred in their race remaining. The hiroon were deadly in their hunting packs and with blades, their enemies rarely saw them coming until it was too late. Centuries ago, the Altestan empire sought out to destroy most lesser races of the forests and moons, and the hiroon wolf lords were among the hardest and most enduring of the tribes, so the Altestani targeted their women instead and left them to this continent to face extinction. Lavress knew their tales, respected their abilities of hunting and battle, yet felt great sorrow in their presence.

The canine protector spoke slowly in elven. “Lavress Tilaniun, you come to the temple with great gifts, with honor, and with much on your heart. You are hunted by the Nadderi, by a lover, and by your own past. What can ease your spirit?”

Lavress rose to stand, gestured by the hiroon guardian. As he did, the sphinx Kilbura, and the princess of the temple were suddenly there in front of them, bowing as he rose, sitting in their ornate chairs of root and leaf. The songs of the fey in the room choired by the dryads behind him seemed to invoke a spirit beyond the presence already covering such a sacred and ancient place as this. The wood elf hunter touched his heart, brow, and then his chin as a sign of service, love, and respect to the keepers of the temple, and bowed his head once again. “I am at peace and ease great hiroon, I wish only to serve the Whitemoon further.”

“You shall have that chance for certain. I was asking about you and those around you.” Jevendial walked closer, his hand on his heart, his long curved blade tapping his fur. He met Lavress’ eyes evenly, his brown dark canine eyes staring into the wood elf’s round vibrant array of browns and topaz. “You do not wish to speak of Lady Shinayne or your past with her and her family. Your focus gives you distraction to avoid such thoughts. It will need to be dealt with on the inside, lest it take form on the outside, great hunter.” his tail wagged slowly, and his dark brown short fur moved with the breeze of nowhere within the temple.

Lavress bowed again. “Thank you wise one, I will consider the matter and ask for Seirena’s guidance.”

The choir of otherworldly and uplifting fey music stopped, and all eyes of the sphinx, the hiroon, the dryads, the fairies, sprites, and the wood elf hunter, turned to face the princess on her throne of earth and nature. Her form was aglow with faint green and blue, her eyes dazzled like etchings of diamond had been placed within the blue orbs, and her winged form sat powerfully enchanting over all, despite her three feet in height. Waves of blonde danced around her translucent wings as the breeze seemed to ebb and flow from nowhere with her smile and through her hair. Finwel-Dur was one of the sisters of the chosen daughter Lanaru-Fin, who was reputed in elven myth as the first child of Seirena and Siril in a union that took place thousands of years ago in a sacred grove outside Kilikala, homeland of the elves. When the queen passed on last millenium, her sisters inherited the temples of the Whitemoon while the sacred groves passed to the children of Siril, the highborne elves of the north. While the fey saw this as a strength to the Order of the Whitemoon, the elves of Kilikala, Gualidura, Shalokahn, and other elven kingdoms, fought and waged verbal wars on many political and noble levels over the sacred and enchanted places of their history. The T’Sarrin family and the Sassari family held a private war, one that led Lavress to meet Shinayne and place her parents in hiding when she was still very young. There were many things that she did not know, that he could not tell her, and that she would want to see undone. All over lands that children of the Gods passed to mortals, spiritual places that had been stained by greed and power.

“You think deeply of her, and often. Tell me Lavress of the Hedim Anah, why do you not seek her now?” Finwell’s voice was like a flash of light that could not be ignored, music in words, soft and powerful, and it reached into his mind and heart with ease. Her gaze brought a smile. Not of his own as he focused on his composure, but one against his will with love and life that her very presence commanded.