The Exodus Sagas: Book II - Of Dragons And Crowns (34 page)

Johnas noticed a bow from the old wizard from the corner of his eye, as he had learned not to look at Salah. He had felt that overbearing weakness from his black misty gaze once, and once was enough.
The Prince of Valhirst watched his scarred beauty be taken further below with the decaying sorcerer, and rested back on his throne of onyx and gold. He felt a bit more secure with some of his bodies replaced, at least here in his city. Johnas got comfortable in his throne, ready to watch Balric cut these men apart to protect him.

As he raised his hand to get everyone’s attention, he noticed a glow from the thick mahogany table to his right. The warlock mirrors were inside, and he had been waiting for word from both Harlaheim and Devonmir. It had been days since Florin or Rinicus checked in, and still nothing from Kaya T’Vellon. He was anxious to know what news was travelling in through the arcane devices, but was just as curious about his new personal swordsman he had made out of Balric. “Send for Vanessa Blackflame
to return
, it would be most refreshing and sentimental for the woman to read the mirrors once more, don’t you think?!”

The gathered agents and members of the White Spider all laughed in approval at the statement, for none would dare say nay to Johnas to begin with.

“But first, let us see how master D’vrelle here does in saving his beloved prince from certain doom. Men, if you make it past this one single man and reach my throne, you will be set free.
Balric, if they reach the throne, I will be forced to keep you from seeing Vanessa for an entire month. Begin!” Johnas laughed as he clapped his hands together, knowing full well that not one of them had a chance, even in a mob rush. He had found his ultimate assassin and bodyguard, out of the least likely of circumstances. Johnas smiled wickedly, enjoying the poetic and tragic irony of it all.
The agent of the church who became a spy who would now be an assassin for his once target, he laughed outloud at the thoughts of how much this man would kill for him.
The blood ran the floor red, over and over, as the prince’s new killer fought to
protect him with his very life, and with his
very deadly ski
ll with a sword, all against his
own will.
Now for the first moment, Johnas felt the deal with Salah would pay off.

Shinayne II:III

Soujan Mountain, Harlaheim

“If dreams be the unfulfilled desires of the mind, hunger the unsatisfied yearning for sustenance, and weariness the desperate longing fo
r rest; then the absence of troubles
in the heart must be
proof of
the presence of love.”
–
from the poetries of Illia Diravi
s, prieste
ss of Siril at the
Temple
of the Crescent, the elven capital of
Kilikala, circa 945 B.C.

Her steps were as flakes of
winter snow on the polished stone
by the pool outside the cavern entrance. Light, silent, graceful, and flowing with the wind that streamed from the night sky
she was
. Her elven kata was perfect and unique in every way, every way except one. Shinayne’s eyes of aqua were closed, her breathing slow as could be, and her mind wandered to her hunter. Just as she came close to seeing him in her meditation, he would drift. The highborne elf would catch herself off balance in just the slightest without her matching shortblade as she danced
, stretched, and practiced placing her spirit elsewhere
. The lady of Kilikala tried again and again, each time a little closer to Lavress who she could tell was not more th
an a few days to the north
. How h
e had been in Chazzrynn one day
and north of Harlaheim the next, she had no idea. The magicks of the fey were closely guarded to those that vowed service to the Goddess Seirena alone. Lavress had never shared the secrets of the temple of the Whitemoon with her, not yet anyway.

Shinayne T’Sarrin felt his warmth, could see his topaz eyes fierce on the hunt, and she could see he was in an ancient place of dark stone and
giant
winged statues
of men
. He looked at her from time to time, as if he knew she was there trying to reach him. She knew in fact he could sense her, but not closely enough to speak with his spirit. Gone again, the last thing she saw was his bow being drawn and the sense that he was alone with much wickedness ahead. Shinayne felt danger,
dark magicks, and creatures that repelled her vision hard and fast, forcing her eyes open and breath to rush in with fevered anxiety. She swung her
curved
longblade hard through the air, feeling the longing and frustration take her to a place of anger. The elven swordswoman
looked to the moons, the green
and the white, hoping to derive direction from them or the stars as to what to do. She knelt and prayed, sword in hand. She quest
ioned herself as much as Siril,
the God of the elves, in her prayers.
I
have delivered the scroll, seen my allies safe to the dragon past the wizard, and now our journeys must part. Lavress is all that matters,
she told herself, letting her emotions and emptiness take place of the peace and serenity that her meditation should restful
l
y bring about. Shinayne stood, knowing she had no choice but to travel north and help her lover, wherever he may be.
There was nothing more for her to do here.
She opened her eyes again, and smiled, smiling at the thought of her wood elf hunter and her being as one again. She needed him, for no one understood her sorrow and loss, her shattered dreams of childhood and her parents, and only another elf could bring her
that
peace and love. Shinayne turned to walk into the cavern of Ansharr and get her belongings.

“And where do you think you be leaving to in the middle o
the night?” Azenairk Thalanaxe, quiet without forty pounds of plate armor strapped on, had been behind her
, also
praying at the carved entrance. “I felt in my prayers that you were going to leave, and I s’pose I would like to know why, my lady.”

The elven woman felt a twinge of shame and guilt hit her throat, then looked to walk past Zen, only to see the red glowing and silver eyes of Ansharr blocking the entryway to the cavern at the top of the mountain. She lowered her head, sheathed her sword, and sat down next to the dragon and the dwarf with her hands on her face. “Lavress is out there, to the north, alone. I came to this continent to find him, to be with him, and now he has this purpose and this devotion to his worship that takes him places of great danger. I only wish to be with the man I love, I feel lost without him here.”

“You need a sense of purpose for yourself, lady T’Sarrin. He has his, and you seem to be trying to tie yours with it. If it were the will of any God or Goddess, it would be so. Perhaps, Zen, you should tell your friend the truth that I saw in your dreams. Go ahead, share your secrets young priest.” Ansharr spoke softly to them both, for she had seen the dwarf carried a great burden. She had no idea of what, but only the feeling that it weighed on him as much as the lost love of the hunter weighed on Shinayne. The great dragon urged the two to talk, to share, for seeing two strong beings such as them in fear and pain of the future was disheartening to her. Ans
harr lowered her head, hopeful
and curious at the same moment.

Zen
looked at the dragon with a furrowed brow of defiance and rebellion at first, then simply shied away from the request. He was having dreams abou
t the iron box and its contents nightly.
His father dying, the promise to take his only heirloom, the key to the mythical mines of Kakisteele,
and to find it in the
far north and west
. Besides his recent dream of dying himself, he had many others that involved being alone and lost in strange mountains searching for a place that did not exist.
Azenairk felt fear and shame at not wanting to fulfill this promise, and he had prayed every morning for the strength to overcome it and journey on. He sat quietly, not certain what, if anything, he had to say.

“I have shared my pain, Azenairk, you know full well that I think of Lavress often in this strange land. The excitement of this journey has been a wonderful distraction, but now I have no direction but to find him it seems. Why don’t you tell me what it is you think of so often, for we all know you carry something in your pouch that distracts you. We have seen you open a box at night and pray, only to try and hide it when we draw near. What is it
my bearded friend
?” Shinayne breathed the fresh air, put her hand on Zen’s knee as they sat next to each other, and waited until he was ready to talk.

The dwarven priest pulled out the rusty iron box, opened it, and stared at the ancient piece of rolled parchment, the bag of dust, and the iron key. The key was plain with only a circular disc
resembling a moon to top it with
some words etched that he could not read.
He felt embarrassed, for no dwarf he knew would take him serious had he shared this. “My father, on his deathbed, passed to me the only remaining thing of value to our family. I am the last Thalanaxe, as my known relations in Boraduum are dead.
I had hoped for gifts of hidden jewels or coin to restore my family to honor and prosperity. I wished it had been old tomes of our lineage, or perhaps divinely infused armor or weapons that I could carry to defend the empty mines we were left with. Anything, but this is what he gave me, and he made me promise to use it and seek it out. I promised, yet I do not know where to go or how to…” Zen huffed in a deep chest full of air, stifling his tears back as the realization that he was far from home and had nowhere to return to
, it
hit him hard.

“
And where is it you have vowed to go, Azenairk?” Shinayne asked him sincerely, seeing him in real pain and anguish at the moment.
She had never seen him lose his nerve or his optimism since they had met.

“It is ridiculous, a myth, a
joke in dwarven taverns and…” h
e faked a smile,
and wiped his eyes and face. “this be
the key to the fabled Kakisteele mines, where Vundren himself is said to have blessed
the very stone and forges
. Lost thousands o years ago, destroyed or cursed by wicked demons or northern armies they say. The stori
es all differ, but here
, on this old paper deed,
it says
that the key and the deed to this place is in the hands of our family. It was passed for too many generations to track, and this dust is s’posed to be needed to kill some
demon woman that dwells in the dark in the heart o the mines, holding sway over some curse. It is a cruel prank for me, for none in thousands of years have found it. Why? Because it is just a story, something to rattle off when you are
drunk or to inspire children. Nothing more.
My father was near delirious at his end, and for my word and vow I have to find it, or prove that it is not real.
So, I am set to find a place that does not exist
, all alone, which is harder than it sounds.
” Zen bre
athed again, having held his bre
ath to get most of that out. He closed his eyes, knowing it was any moment that he would endure some laughter.

Shinayne stared at the dwarf, feeling ashamed at her love affair tales and how small they seemed compared to the task and trouble this dwarf carried with him. She thought of how she had so many centuries of life ahead of her, and that her impatience with letting Lavress and her find their way over time was what she was really having trouble accepting. “It is not ridiculous, Azenairk Thalanaxe. That is truly a noble and
an
honorable task you have accepted. And you
do not have to do it alone.
I would be h
onored to seek it out with you. R
eal or imagined, as far as you need me to go.”

“You mean that, my lady? You would go with me to find a place far away that does not
even
exist?” Zen looked at the box and its contents, then to the beautiful elven woman.

“Without a second thought my friend,
without a second thought.” Shinayne felt relieved, for him and herself. She felt a bit of purpose and love inside her, not to mention the pull of friendship that could not let him travel off alone.
For Shinayne did not want to travel alone either.
Her list of friends in this life was short and compiled of mostly those here on the mountain.

“Young dwarf, would you care for some old draconic wisdom?” Ansharr looked at the key from over his shoulder.

“Yes, great one
. Anything you have to say be
surely wiser than what is in my mind.” Zen felt a smile across his face and beard, knowing he would have at least one companion to nowhere
now
.

“There once was a place, a city, where dwarves, elves, the fey, my kind, and man all dwelt together.
It was, for but a century
, the beacon of
hope and light of this
continent in dark times. Worship was unrestricted,
freedom of spirit and truth were
paramount there, and all flocked from near and far to live in this kingdom. It was before my age, well over two thousand years ago, that t
his place was destroyed by the
ar
madas
and sorceries of the north
ern realms
. It was envied, mistrusted, too good to be true,
mystical yet majestically real, and it stood for all that was
honorable and loving, chivalric and bold, yet many centuries ahead of its time. The kingdom of Mooncrest, far to the west of Shanador and north of the Misathi Mountains, was ruined as a warning to all races, religions, and people of Agara that such open mindedness and freedoms were dangerous and blasphemous.
The three emperors
of Altestan
led their armies across the ocean and lands unchallenged, and laid waste to her people.
Since then, most of our my kind
stayed to their own, separated and self seeking; just the way the em
pires of Altestan would have it, as it still is today.
” Ansharr had noticed the full attention of her words from the elf and Zen in front of her, and also that James, Saberrak, Cristoff, and Gwenneth were standing behind
her in
the early hours of morning. They had awoken with her, and were listening intently and quietly, hidden behind her giant draconic form in the cavern.