The Exodus Sagas: Book I - Of Spiders And Falcons (57 page)

The door flung open, priests of the prince, witch doctors with titles was more accurate, scoured over her, holding her down, spreading ointments on her wounds. She struggled, cried out, begged for them to stop. A flintpiece was struck, and she could smell the smoldering opium rising in the air. They held her down, she was powerless, and as she gasped, the smoke entered her mouth burning as it went into her lungs. She coughed, and held her breath for as long as she could. Her eyes wandered in the silence of the chaos, meeting his eyes in the doorway, watching, head lowered. Johnas was there, but he did nothing but stare, and then he walked away from the girl he had raised and pleasured himself with since her youth. She had been more vulnerable, beautiful, erotic, and obedient than any of the others. He rewarded her with study in the arts, gifts and magical trinkets, power, and his bed. Now, all she had known besides Balric, was walking away when she most needed someone to explain what had happened, and comfort her that all would be fine. She received nothing, and as her breath gave out in dire need to inhale, the opium bag opened and filled her chest with smoke that numbed it all, producing her silence, and then a wide-eyed sleep.

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Prince Johnas paced once more around the pit, staring at the hornless body of Heathen that lay face down on the spikes. Kaya and Chalas had left for Devonmir, the Queen Sapphire had followed the fugitive ship with Farrigus in charge. His woman less than pleasurable with all her injuries, though he made use of her anyway. Heathen was dead, Gregore’ and his coven of shapechangers well placed and following the ships with those from Altestan. Gerram and Dasius dead as well, Johnas began to feel a bit lonely in his throne room. He needed entertainment, he needed blood, and he desired to wield his power over someone or something. He had tired of the boring conversations with the corpses in the pit, said all he had needed to there, and now was hoping for something to happen, anything.

The door behind the throne opened, his priests walking out shaking their heads. Each silently bowed to the Prince, standing by the pit, knowing that conversation with him while near the site where his displeasures resided was most unwise. “What of lovely Lady Blackflame, my indentured and overpaid priests?”

One of the older men spoke up, his hands tucked in his black robes, “She sleeps your highness, her burns are severe. We will try all we can to tend to them, but she will be scarred forever. I would recommend letting her rest over the next few weeks, as we do all we are able.”

Johnas looked at the priests, then to the pit, and then back at the priests.

“We will convene now, my lord, and see what else may be of assistance to the young lady. Come brothers, I have some ideas for young Vanessa.” he motioned the others back into the bedchamber, quickly.

The Prince smiled, enjoying his lonely power, pacing again around the pit. “Do you gentlemen wish any
company
? A few priests might make for interesting and inspiring conversation for your current predicament.” he stared at the bodies in his pit. His laughter rolled through the vast chamber, even putting the doppelganger guard at much unease.

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Farrigus stared at the ships in the distance through the spyglass, unable to tell details, but seeing enough. He could tell the ships that had headed off the Bronze Harpy were royal vessels of Chazzrynn by the flags, and that they were splitting up. One was heading this way toward the Queen Sapphire, the other out into deeper waters. The Harpy lifted anchor, and was again heading north to Harlaheim. “All right captain, resume your heading north, let’s try and pass by the ship from Loucas, see if they stop us.”

“Surely will Farrigus, they are looking for something or someone. Never seen two royal galleons together searching the coast this close to Valhirst. We are going to be boarded for certain.” the captain was nervous, more of the ship and what they would find below, than this foul murderer of the Prince that ordered him around. If inspected, the captain worried that the seven doppelgangers below would stand out, since most of them did not speak any Agarian at all. They were having much difficulty getting them to remain appearing as crewmen, and had no idea how to act on a ship, so they were kept below deck where they practiced changing into things, strange things. They did not like visitors, and they ate things that they should not eat, including one crew member already.

“We will be fine, captain.” Farrigus worried too, having only a thousand gold coin in bribes available, should the inspection show the young and inexperienced shapechangers that he was given by the prince of Valhirst. “Either way, we head north. If I have to kill some royal captain and sink his ship, so be it.”

The navy vessel approached quickly through the bright and breezy winter afternoon, its flags now visible. The captain leaned toward the bow, spyglass in hand. He took another look, and then another, hoping he was incorrect in his vision. He was not, for certain the Prince of Chazzrynn with heavily armed royal guard was set upon them, and watching their every move.

“Lord Farrigus, sir, it is the MorningHawk of the Chazzrynn fleet, two flags raised which means royalty aboard! I think I saw Prince Bryant on the bow of the ship! Not the king himself, or there would be three flags, but from the capital in Loucas for certain! What do we do?!” his nerves on edge, a naval captain for Prince Johnas yes, and he had done much that was less than honorable in his service. This, however, was much different. Going up against a royal vessel was not just treason, it was certain death.

“We close with them, open fire, and continue our course north. If they follow, we lose them in Taberlo Pass and around Cat’s Eye Isle, right? I do not understand the
confusion
here, captain.” Farrigus drew his longsword and dagger, checking for the edge and any nicks that he may have to sharpen out.

“Farrigus, this is the
prince of the kingdom
, not some routine port inspection. Firing on them is treason, as is avoiding them. This is
suicide
, for even if we were to sink them, they have their orders from another…”

“And your orders are from Prince Johnas Valhera, enforced by myself. The king is old, and if his
only heir
should perish accidentally, who would rule this kingdom when Mikhail is gone? The T’Vellons of Southwind Keep, the Lazlette family in Vallakazz or perhaps you think the other fat nobles in Loucas will? Johnas will one day be king of Chazzrynn, you best be aware of the
future
captain. Treason now, for honor and reward later. Now, set our course to hit them straight on, unless you wish to challenge my authority in the matter?” the scarred assassin twirled his blade once, then twice, smiling through his unkempt beard and squinting dark eye.

“No sir” the captain marched off to the aft of the Queen Sapphire.” Set course due north, stay to the coast! Ready the men for attack!” he had no argument with dying later for treason, as opposed to dying right now at the end of that mans sword.

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King Mikhail had another trebuchet bolt fired toward the giant trireme vessel of the Altestani armada, tipped with a white flag, which was known as a peaceful hail. Third one that the crew most undoubtedly had seen, and still they headed further northeast avoiding any and all contact. The old king wondered what business they had in Valhirst with such a large ship, a warship, and also in following the Harpy north toward Harlaheim. The flags that waved symbolized the flagship of the King of Chazzrynn, and even foreign visitors were obliged to honor and respect that on the open sea.

“Full sail ahead, Captain. I want to see these trespassers up close and personal. Head them off at deeper waters, let them see that we do not intend to be ignored. Ready our weapons and men to board.” Mikhail did not like invaders in his waters, not that a four hundred men could pose a threat to his kingdom, but nonetheless he was the king, trade flags or not.

“Your majesty, they must have at least three hundred men on that warship. May I suggest not appearing intent on battle when we are so outmatched?” the captain, never failing an order in over a decade, was concerned going after a ship twice their size in such deep depths.

“You may suggest it, Captain. Now prepare the men.” the king thought back to his days when Harlaheim and Chazzrynn were at war over the very waters they traveled on now. Outmatched, outnumbered, but once the knights and soldiers of Chazzrynn boarded a Harlian vessel, the tide always turned. Many times he had the chance to back off, to allow size and numbers dissuade him from fighting against an enemy. Even when his sons were killed in the last weeks of the war, he had not turned back. The battles that took place in Iron Gulf and Redcliff Bay on the Carisian Sea were legendary, from fifteen years prior when Bryant was just a babe and the king still had a queen.

Closer now, Mikhail used the spyglass to see who was at the helm of the great trireme of the northern empires, and if they were prepared for battle. To his surprise, they had not a weapon loaded, and the men aboard seemed busy and completely ignoring the threat of the king on his flagship, The Persistence. He saw the three likely candidates for leadership, their fine clothes and robes, darker skin and beards long and braided under white turban wraps, and covered in jewelry. Long curved scimitars and thinner shamshirs decorated their hips as they ordered around crewmen like themselves, or paler skinned slaves from their vast homeland made up of dozens of countries and cultures all owing servitude to Altestan. They moved slowly to deeper waters, avoiding the conflict or any chance of meeting entirely. Mikhail would be hard pressed to head them off, but he had full intent on making the effort. He watched the flags of the three dragons of Altestan flit in the winds as they drifted further out away from his kingdom.

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Gregore’ turned to the men, it’s guise as royal ambassador and son of a prince, Alamud Kaven Sa’oom, was perfect after only a few days with the Altestani man. It had watched his mannerisms, the way he spoke and moved his facial expressions, even how he slept. After they left port, Gregore’ used arcane magic to place him in a deep sleep, and cut his throat with a bladed bone that it formed from its wrist. The minion fey kinsman dumped the body and several others that night, and assumed many functions throughout the giant trireme vessel. The doppelganger imitated most of his clothing with its own flesh, but took the jewelry and weapons of the northern lord, just in case it would need them. Items of enchanted nature, despite the ancient years of practice in the arcane, could not be duplicated. The elder shapeshifter, skilled above its race for centuries, now only had to keep up appearances to the crew and slaves. Samiri, the entrusted bodyguard of the former Altestani lord, had not caught on to anything yet, but was getting closer by the hour with the Chazzrynn ship approaching.

The Headhunter warship continued further out to sea, the Persistence still moving to head them off, and firing giant trebuchet harpoons high in the air, with white flags to hail them. Gregore’ ignored them, knowing and caring little for the politics or etiquettes of kingdoms or the sea. He concentrated his energies, silently forcing the arcane to do the creatures will without others noticing which had taken decades of self training. The winds filled the sails, at the being’s command, while slaves of various cultures manned the oars. Further east they sailed, putting more distance between them and the Chazzrynn vessel. The solid black eyes twitched, sensing the approach of the bodyguard, Samiri. Gregore’ had also studied language for over a century in its many travels and murderous excursions. It knew the Altestani tongue well. The creature had even taught it to many of the children it had aboard the ship.

“Cousin, why is it we sail further when we have nothing to hide here? Certainly, you do not fear such a puny ship and crew, no matter who would be at the helm?” the royal guardian had never seen his lord avoid a chance to meet a foreign noble, as his arrogance and superiority had led him to great heights for God Yjaros and his emperors.

“No, no. You see, cousin, this ship has weapons armed, and we wish to avoid such trivial meetings with frontier kings as live here in the south. Yes, yes.” the doppelganger did not face the curious human, ensuring its eyes were not noticed.

“Are you well, my lord? You seem in need of rest. You are speaking as if the sun or cold has had affect on you. Please, let me take you below and get you refreshment.” he tried to step in front of his superior, but the man turned away, facing down and avoiding him. His attempts to see his cousin’s face were failing, drawing his suspicions in as what could be wrong with lord Alamud.

“Do not bother me, Samiri. No, no. I am well, keep eye on the northern horizon for the fleeing ship with the precious scroll. Yes, yes, yes, the scroll.” Gregore’ did not like this mans closeness, it abhorred it, making the thing feel impatient and angry.

“Scroll
? What scroll
? Alamud, it is me, your cousin and closest friend. Something is wrong with you cousin, you are not well. Let me see you.” he tried to turn his cousin around, grabbed his shoulder, and felt something unnatural about the way his muscles tightened, like something in his clothes was not his clothes, like this was not his cousin. He was pushed back, Alamud suddenly facing him, somehow, without
actually
moving. Samiri was knocked back with a mere push from a man that could not possibly be that strong. His curved thin shamshir was out in a flash, seeing eyes of deep black where his royal cousin’s eyes of sky blue had been previously. “
Who are you
?!”