The Exodus Sagas: Book I - Of Spiders And Falcons (49 page)

“Time to move Saberrak! Make us a path!” the priest yelled toward the knight and the gladiator, seeing Shinayne injured, and the wizard leaning on him for support. Gwenneth maintained the obscuring haze that now did not even allow sight above ten feet in the air. Her eyes barely open, but still holding on to her spells in place.

James plunged his broadsword into the chest of the last guard standing, blood spurting from the mans mouth as his saber fell to the ground next to many others who were either bleeding out, crawling away, or meeting God already. “The path is clear priest, but not for long. How bad is she?” James was panting, feeling to see if the cut on his shoulder was as serious as the bleeding arm of the elf.

“Let me stand dwarf. I just need some time on that ship, is it close?” Zen let go of Gwenneth who struggled to walk on her own with the help of her staff, waving her hand to dismiss any assistance as she looked ahead.

“Five more streets then turn left. I am fine, just get us there before more arrive James.” Shinayne sheathed her blades, and held her arm tight to try and slow the bleeding.

Saberrak looked back as they walked, noting the dead shapechangers, the dying men, and those still trying to survive. Sixteen lay in the bloody mess of weapons that decorated the cobblestone dockside streets of Valhirst, and he thought of his home in Unlinn. This was everyday and everynight where he was from, and how he missed being outnumbered three to one and walking away unscathed by his enemies. A small grin escaped his focused visage, and he followed his friends toward the docks and his first view of ships.

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Darkness swayed in the great chamber of the underground of Valhirst, torches and candles fought with lanterns to give off a glow through the blackness. No one. Kaya, who had entered through the left door of course, saw no one here for the first time. She had thought of opening the right door and hoping her captor would fall to his death, but thought better of it. The black throne sat empty, no guards or agents to be seen, only faint whimpering from behind the seat of the Prince. The floor held the great ivory design of a spider, the pit reeked of decay and rot, the sofas and chairs sat staring blankly at empty tables, and not even the air had much to tell.

“Where are your acquaintances,
Lady Kaya
?” Chalas breathed it more than spoke, his blade tip dragging on the ground as he walked about, a small reminder that he was ready to kill her at any moment.

“Hello!?
Heathen? Johnas
?” she seemed more afraid now of appearing false than ever, and the lady spy was used to being involved in the most twisted webs of deceit and keeping her composure, but this was different. She had never had an eight foot horned killer holding death over her, it was
she
that had always held the death card. Kaya set down the lantern and drew her shortblade, as much for her worry about what may have happened as for what may happen in a moment.

Black robes and dark hair over a wet tan face walked from behind the throne, a young woman with a wand raised and glowing red. “Who stands in the dark without recognition?” the girl looked as if she had been crying, eyes puffed out and glossy, her neck still with streams of tears.

“Jade of the West and …..
ally
, here to see Prince Johnas. Is that
you
, Vanessa?” Kaya recognized the girl from the shadows, yet it had been many years since she had turned into a woman, she wondered what sort of position she retained within the White Spider.

“
Kaya T’Vellon
.” the voice was that of an anxious and approaching Johnas Valhera. “The most wanted woman in the kingdom of Chazzrynn, here to see me at last.” his blade was covered in blood, down to the hilt, and he produced a towel from his belt and began to clean the green glowing exquisite weapon. “You have survived Southwind Keep I see, and what news do you bring your Prince?”

Kaya noticed the bloodstain on his shoulder, but that he was very relaxed for a change, not the nervous scheming bastard she remembered. “We have lost the keep, Johnas. The church has too many eyes and ears, as does my brother Alexei. There was an issue with a scroll that I set up well, but it was disrupted by forces beyond my...”

“I have that situation being handled as we speak, the group with the scroll is here in Valhirst. It is most valuable indeed, even the Altestani are aware of it.” Johnas sheathed his blade and sat to rest on his throne. “And who is your guest? A bodyguard, slave, or corrupt soul like the rest of us?”

The huge brown skinned killer stepped forward, nodding so slight to barely be noticed, his blade still in one hand. “Chalas Kalaza of Unlinn, no
slave
, no
bodyguard
, and I care not for anything or anyone here. The only reason I am here is to find Saberrak the gray, and bring him back to his master. You know of this minotaur, he is here, tell me
where
.” his stare met the Prince dead on, never flinching, watching as he saw a red minotaur out the corner of his eye enter through another hidden entrance.

“Quite
demanding
, Chalas, what do you offer for this kinsman of yours? I accept gold, hostages, and slaves, even platinum or rare stones.” Johnas nodded to Heathen to take up his usual spot by the main doors and the pit. Hand on the hilt of his great scimitar, he walked behind the larger and younger brown minotaur.

“I
offer
nothing, and if you let that one-horned, dishonored, old wretch walk behind me again, I shall kill him and toss his remaining horn at your feet.” Anger flared, mixed with disgust, as the brown stared at Heathen, eyeing his broken horn. He spat after eyeing his old scars, his age from head to toe, and his disgrace in serving a human.

“Careful
visitor
, Heathen has killed more men than you can imagine, I may enjoy seeing your arrogance put to the pit.” Johnas realized that this one was much bigger, younger, stronger, and more eager for blood than his bodyguard had been in almost two decades since the Prince was young. Either way, he would take advantage of who won and benefit from death, as he always had.

Heathen stood, deep in thought, listening to the arrogant competitors speaking of his fate as if he were not even present, and in fact he was not. His orders, all the people he had put to death, his one loss to a minotaur in the north, and now the prince who he had served for nearly three decades was bartering with his life as if he were a mere possession. All these years he had been the fear behind the Prince’s word, the blade of his wrath and decrees, and the enforcer of his will. The old red warrior reached into his belt pouch, pulled out the key he had taken, and placed it on a lantern ledge and feigned to lean on it for support. He stared at Vanessa until she looked back, making sure the prince did not notice, but letting her know where the key was as he patted his hand and nodded. He had fought his kind before, and this beast of a warrior was intimidating, even to his veteran composure. Heathen knew he had better out move and out think him to have any chance. He had thought of several prideful retorts to the insults this brown kinsman was making, but he had neither the care nor energy to voice them.

The side door to the rest of the underground complex of the White Spider flung open, showing a bleeding Farrigus, limping through, longsword in hand. “My Prince, they have made it to the docks!”

Johnas stood up slowly, pacing, staring at the floor and tapping his fingers gently on the emerald pommel of his sword. His brow furrowed in deep concentration. “And how did
this
occur, dear Farrigus?” the thought of what usually resulted in such failure came across his mind, thrusting his blade through the man would be satisfying, yet Farrigus had killed many and done well in the past. The prince waited for an answer, not much caring about the bleeding man, just what information he could offer.

“The wizard, Lazlette, she killed most of the doppelgangers with powerful magicks and her dwarven priest friend. The knight of Southwind and the minotaur were unstoppable, and the elven swordswoman is nearly as trained as myself. They are injured, my prince, but I fear we will need…”he slumped to the ground, dizzy and weary from his injuries.

“
Nearly
? If she were
nearly
as skilled as you, she would be dead and you would have less bleeding I would presume.” Johnas threw a wicked glance at the man trying to glorify himself after failing.

“Yes my prince.” his face lowered, keeping his hand on the wound in his stomach.

“Where is the minotaur? He is
mine
.” Chalas turned to the feeble assassin, walking toward him without care or concern, much like Johnas.

“Heathen, it seems someone here wishes to take your place as bloodthirsty minotaur,
unless
you would contend with him.” Johnas saw in this brown horned killer the minotaur that Heathen used to be, that he needed. There was no use for two, not when one could be glorified and built into the perfect killing weapon. Heathen the red had lost his zeal, his edge, and was reserved and lazy much anymore. And if he were wrong, the Prince would keep the old red warrior around a bit longer.

“My Prince, I have spilt far too much blood for you to even accept a challenge from a
visitor
. Perhaps another time. I will keep guard here while the
young one
plays about the city.” Heathen looked down at his blade, knowing that his answer would not satisfy the prince, nor Chalas, only himself.

“I need to keep Kaya in hiding for some time now, until she can show her face again. She can guard the White Spider. Will you fight for the honor of serving me? I have no room for two minotaurs here, only
one
.”

“I have some matters to attend to Prince Johnas, then I will escort this visitor to the docks to claim his prize. We can fight after he has what he came for, but you may find his desire to serve you much less once he leaves the city with the gray one.” Heathen’s reasoning could not be argued, for the challenge from an unproven visitor was seldom respected. As the Prince nodded to Chalas and Kaya in honor of a wise answer, the old red guardian grabbed the key to Balric’s cell and put it back in his belt. “I will meet you outside the docks,
stranger
, and mind your tongue until I see it fit you speak.”

“
Old bull
, I will split your chest wide open with one cut…”

“Very well, calm down gentlemen. Vanessa, take your men and your remaining archers and head to the docks. Board the Queen Sapphire, a Valhirst naval ship, and follow whatever leaves the docks next. I will have some shapechangers guised as crew and Farrigus will accompany you. Get my priests and get him healed up quickly.” Johnas paced, in his element, giving orders, planning outcomes, being generally devious. “Chalas, follow Heathen below and see what he is up to, then go with him and begin searching for your minotaur prize on the ships. Come back here regardless, and we will talk of your skills within my house and your future. Kaya, send word to the Altestani ship. Ask for Gregore’ there. Tell him I need the Queen Sapphire trailed, and that they follow the scroll. That should get our northern nobles from the great empire to act quickly
and
get them out of Valhirst. Tell that old doppelganger wizard to use
any means necessary.”

All bowed, all except Chalas Kalaza. The brown gladiator bowed to no one, and never would. He stared at the robed woman, who was staring back at him, he had no idea why, but she and the red shared a glance that no one but he had noticed. Curious, he walked out the side entrance to follow old Heathen.

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Arrows rained like an unforgiving storm onto the docks, James held the rear with shield high in the misty gloom and breeze of the arcane. Sweet salty air brushed them all, as did the sight of a score of ships lined along the waterside city. Merchants took cover from the reckless city guard that fired upon their targets through the magical mist. Commotion rose from behind the troupe was a constant murmur of shouts and affirmations that the city wanted them for something. The worn and warped wooden piers stretched out curving and long around Emerald Harbor, waves crashing under them floating the smells of the Carisian Sea into the massive stone city.

“On the left Saberrak, the one with the winged woman on the red flag,
the Bronze Harpy
! Go!” Shinayne, still holding her wounded arm, crouched behind Zen’s dwarven shield as they marched toward their freedom under a hail of crossbow fire from the port towers.

The minotaur noted the large vessel, many men scurrying about in moving ropes, hoisting things, and some even staring at the docks in wonder of the battle that seemed to be getting closer. “I see it. I also see a woman with many men right behind us, this is not over yet.” Saberrak stopped at the gang plank of the Bronze Harpy, looking up, axes in hand, and met eyes with an old man.

The Captain of the ship, a stout man from Loucas, was aged and grizzled, dressed in loose clothing and topped with long gray hair tied back. His red and white clothes and brown jacket were unkempt, his cutlass had spots of rust and seaweed dried to the scabbard, and his teeth were as yellow as the corn in late summer. “Who the hell be you nearin my ship,
minotaur
? Be gone now, very busy here!”

“I am with the elf, old man.
Step aside
.” Saberrak lowered his head, his gaze above his horn tattoos piercing through any front of intimidation this old crab had left in his remaining days.