The Exodus Sagas: Book I - Of Spiders And Falcons (68 page)

Saberrak stood up next to Shinayne and Gwenneth, bowing slightly to the brave men of the Harpy, who threw hails and praise their direction, and then he watched the Altestani ship burn in the night sky. The minotaur bowed again, something new he had learned here on the surface, this time to his vanquished enemies.

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“You see, my young wizard, never doubt that which you cannot see.” Kalzarius watched as the lantern lights lit throughout the city at dusk, and waited for the Bronze Harpy to arrive at the docks.

“I know what I saw master. I saw the incantation of the sky, a spell that I would not dare touch after forty years of study with you. How old
is
Gwenneth Lazlette?” Cilano was still staring, amazed at the distant ship that smoldered, having been destroyed by a girl he fathomed to be twenty years younger than himself.

“
Why
? Age does not always determine your talents, you realize.” Kalzarius smiled.

“Yes. But I was wondering if she wouldn’t make a
better
teacher
.” Cilano laughed, followed shortly by his master and closest friend.

Lavress I:VII

Temple of the Whitemoon, Caberra

Green light, soft and warm, allowed the hunter to open his deep topaz eyes. His body felt no pain, only stiffness in his arms and legs, and that too, was fading with each moment he was awake. Lavender and sage filled the room made of twisting roots and vines of deep green. The light came from the tips of the roots and plants, small globes of pure fey magic that danced, but stayed still when one looked upon them. Rose petals, he smelled of rose petals, and could tell he had been well taken care of while he slept. Tears in his armor and hide clothing repaired, his weapons polished, his hair washed and braided, and his wounds from the swordfight with the Nadderi elf, Kendari, were healed with not so much as a scar to show.

Lavress Tilaniun rose from the bed of leaves and silken cloth, a room of healing power inside the Temple of the Whitemoon. His steps silent, much like the temple itself. As he walked into the main room of the sacred chamber, several beings stood up from the stone steps and seats, many more floated or flew up from leaf sofas and perches on the trees that grew green underground and stretched into the earthen ceiling. Kilbura the sphinx, eyes staring at the wood elf of the Hedim Anah, sacred hunter of the temple, walked forward toward him. Pixies flitted, naked forest women his size walked from within the trees, small sprites sang a sad melody as he walked in, even a small trio of brown haired nixie boys with wooden sticks and a jar of ink stood up, a foot high was all, but stood up at his presence.

“Kneel, Lavress Tilaniun of Gualidura, Hunter of the Hedim Anah, Defender of the Temple, and Bane to the Nadderi.” the great sphinx waited for the elven protector to kneel, then nodded to the nixies.

Lavress felt his eyes tearing, knowing that despite his failures, he was receiving honors from the temple, and from all the fey present. His head lowered, wishing he could have saved the hiroon, wishing he had retrieved all four of the mystical elven tomes, and wishing Shinayne were here with him.

One nixie flew, his translucent wings barely visible, and plucked a feather from the sphinx’s wing, dipped the tip into a jar of blue ink on one of the white stone pedestals. He then flew to Lavress, another tying it with braided hemp into his hair. “For your loyalty to protecting this temple, I honor you as a brother. If you should need my help for anything Lavress, I am in your debt.”

The third nixie flew over, the other two passing him to reach another jar, and lifting it off of the stone. He dipped the stick, pointed and glowing, into the small jar of ink, and began to pluck it quickly under the skin of the wood elf’s forehead. The tattooing did not hurt, and he would not have moved nor blinked even if it had. “For your bravery, your courage, your fearless spirit, and undaunted prowess in the face of your enemies, we give you the first moon of the Mother Seirena. Wear it well my friend.” Kilbura let out a great sigh, one of tension more than relief. The fey cheered, music rang from harps and their voices, all looking at the round brown dot of a moon above his brow, matching the color of his other tattoos perfectly.

Lavress smiled, drank the honey and rye wines he was offered, and found himself covered in the little spirits of the forests and sacred places. Something was not right, the sphinx had given it away already, but Lavress thought of what it could be. The Princess was not here, nor was Bedesh, and perhaps the canine guardian, Jevendial, and Kilbura were very close. The wood elf’s mind thought of many reasons for his sorrow, and decided to approach him. As he did, the music stopped, the songs lingered away, and the sphinx looked at them all. “Princess Finwel-Dur says it is time. Come Lavress, walk with me.”

Confused, cup of wine in hand, Lavress walked alongside the great cat into the throne room and sacred and holy grounds of Seirena, the Goddess of the earth and fey. “My heart longs for your friend, great sphinx. The hiroon was a mighty warrior. I wish I could have gotten there in...…I am sorry.” the wood elf put his hand on the shoulder and wing of Kilbura, walking with him, offering support.

The great guardian of the fey lowered his head, eyes closed while he walked beside the hunter. “I am sorry too, Lavress Tilaniun.”

All was silent, the light shining white and blue in the throne room. The root statue of Seirena’ s face glowed with twinkling silvers and gold, like dust or mist that held something otherworldly and mystical. Lavress touched his forehead, his lips, and his chin to be thoughtful, silent, and proud in the presence of the Mother and her children. He looked to the right of the empty throne, and there was the Princess, her hands clasped over…

Lavress dropped his cup, it shattered on the floor as he hit his knees, his hand still on the wing on the sphinx. Tears flowed from his choking face, his lips puckering, wanting to cry out, desperately wanting this not to be. “
No, no, no,no, no. Not him
.” all he could do was whisper through trembling lips as he crawled to the still body of Bedesh, his bow laid gently upon his chest. His brown fur perfectly groomed, white satin cloths wrapped in honor, covered with leaves. The satyr looked at peace, the princess running her fingers over his small horns, herself crying as well.

“We waited until you awoke to say the prayers. He died before we could get to him, Lavress, and died bravely. He would want you to keep your bow, and I feel you should as well. You will remember him often as you carry it.” her words like soft music, her tears seemed to heal his heart rather than make it feel more pain.

“Is there
nothing
you can do, granddaughter of Seirena?
Nothing at all
? He died saving me, were I to take his place…” Lavress touched his face, knowing that he could do nothing, she could do nothing, or she would have already.

“It has been three days Lavress, it is not the will of the Mother, and there is always higher purpose after pain, always.” Finwel-Dur floated on her fey wings back to the throne, giving them time alone.

Lavress took the bow, placing it on the ground, and placed his hand on his chest, his other on Bedesh’s. He asked for forgiveness, for safe passage, and for thanks to him. He sat for many long untold moments with his friend, the satyr.

“I have spoken to him, and he said he will be seeing you soon. He enjoyed hunting with you, running with you, and hopes to do so again very soon. He sends his thanks for his rescue, and says he
will
find you.” her composure was delicate, her sparkling eyes under her crown of wood vine and jewels barely held back tears. “He will be honored as a guardian of the Whitemoon, and sang of as such in the prayers.”

Lavress stood up, wiping his eyes, and looked down to the satyr. “Good bye, Bedesh of Haven Glen.” the hunter picked up the bow, and took his place next to the princess, as did the sphinx. He kept his chin up, his mind focused, and his mouth closed as he kneeled once again. The high priestess of the fey, the princess Finwel-Dur, placed her hand on Lavress’ shoulder, and on the wing of her priest Kilbura, and began to sing in her ancient tongue to all present. The words had meaning, deep and powerful prayers, ones that Lavress could not understand, but felt nonetheless. Slowly, the leaves lowered, the earth rose, the grasses in the temple floor grew, and Bedesh was with the earth, the fey, and nature. He was taken by the Goddess in peace, love, and honor.

Lavress wept. His mind wandered in sorrow, for Shinayne, for his mission to come, for the satyr that had died so honorably to help someone he barely knew. The hunter felt it all, and kept it all inside, save for a few tears that escaped. It had been over a century since the hunter had felt such great sorrow, and he hoped to meet Kendari again to finish what they had started.

Exodus I:XIV

Docks of Harlaheim

James watched Shinayne gave a sword salute to Captain Eoan Henterson of Silverbridge, handing him the captain’s cutlass, and the old flag of Chazzrynn, neatly folded. Most of the crew was in rough formation on the docks, inspired, sad, but victorious and hopeful with the new captain from their own ranks. The Chazzrynn man had been there the longest, fought bravely beside Sir James they said, and seemed to have the approval of the crew. Most importantly, the men wanted Lady T’Sarrin to stay aboard as captain, but since she declined, they wanted her approval on who would take her place as captain of the Bronze Harpy. Though only captain for three days, the crew felt she had fought, sailed, and led them better than any captain could have through the impossible. The men shook hands, said their thanks to Sir James, the minotaur, and the dwarven priest that had somehow healed them during the siege. The sailors had some repairs to see to and much cargo to trade and sell, but for now, they wished to be near their champions. They broke out the
wine and whiskey, and the tales began that night, recounting the entire journey from Valhirst to Harlaheim. Forty eight had died in battle, quite a tale for the seas. Forty eight that fought against over three hundred and would be hailed in death victorious.

“That ship will be famous for decades now, quite a feat young Lazlette.” Cilano bowed and greeted the woman he had known as the girl at the Lazlette Semanarium Arcanum in Vallakazz. Many years had passed since the man had studied there, and he thought often of the four towers over the lake.

Gwenneth passed by the man who was obviously an aged student, giving barely a nod of greeting, walking quickly to meet the man she admired most in all the world. She cared little for the crew of the merchant ship, though they all wished to give her thanks. The men were still in awe, hours later, at her dazzling display of magic and power, but she had little to talk about with sailors. She cared not for fancy traditions or ceremonies, less fancy or traditional in this case. She was simply glad to be here, and to be off of the galleon. She straightened up, walking with her staff proudly, and trying to remain composed at the sight of her favorite teacher from so many years ago.

“Gwenneth? My how you have grown my dear, you are surely your mother’s daughter.” Kalzarius hugged the girl, kissing her forehead, though she was as tall as he now, and it was not much a stretch down for the old man anymore.

“Kalzarius, you look exactly how I remember you. Why all the men?” Gwenneth looked about, noticing well over fifty armed wizards and guards, not to mention the thousands that had gathered as the battle of the ships had been taking place near the city.

“We will have time to talk of that when we are in safety. Please get your companions. They are at risk even now, even here.” the old wizard started to walk back north to the tower. His legs sore from the walk down and from old age.

“I will fetch the others, if you wish it my lady.” Cilano bowed, received the noble wave of a hand, and went to retrieve her comrades at the dock. He had heard that young Lazlette was cold, having grown up in such wealth of knowledge and privilege. Now he saw the truth to it.

“Tell me what possible troubles we could have here, in your care, great wizard?” Gwenneth bowed playfully, letting the little girl out for but a moment, then regaining her strict self. Her eyes fell upon the black and white marble tower, taller than any she had ever seen, and had dreamt of seeing again since she was a child. The walk may take time, but her eyes stayed fixed on the place she called home for many years of study in her youth. There were not enough hours to stare at its majesty, even at night.

“With all fairness, this concerns
all
of you. Let me explain it once, when your allies catch up. You do have the scroll,
of course
?” the old man leaned heavier on his staff than she remembered, and spoke softer as well.

“Of course, Saberrak the gray carries it, the minotaur. He is the only one that cannot read, yet he found it and is quite protective of it.” Gwenneth pointed back at the horned warrior, now that they were approaching. For a moment, she had forgotten about the stone scroll of Annar, elated to see the old master of wizardry.

“A
minotaur
? You have a minotaur in possession of one of the most sought after relics in the last millenium? Sometimes I wonder, Gwenne. All power and little common sense. Speaking of which, I was meaning to…”

“Please do not tell my mother about the incantation, Kalzarius. You know I will never hear the end of it, and it will not stop me in my studies either way.” she pleaded, rebelliously, but demanded his secrecy.