The Exodus Sagas: Book II - Of Dragons And Crowns (36 page)

“
Uth dremgoori ergoor, feth
?” t
he beast spoke in deep eloquent tones, mixed with a myriad of echoing moist rasps.

Lavress had never heard th
e language before, but it
sounded less than pleasant to his pointed ears. A
nauseating aroma of rot and death caused his tan brow to furrow and his eyes to squint shut as the beast stepped closer, almost to the other side of the statue he was hiding behind. “I wish no worship nor trouble, demon. Simply to take back what was stolen and leave.”

“
Ahhh
, the Agarian tongue, spoken by a savage elf, how odd. Most do not bring me the proper offerings or prayers to be allowed to speak to the ancients, or make use of the temple. You bring nothing, worship nothing, and merely want to steal
. Die
.” t
he demonic wolf guardian spoke calmly, snidely, and without any imperfections to the language of the men of this continent.

“And who is it I am to worship here? I do not recognize the statues lining the walls, and there are many. Perhaps you could instruct me, before turning me to blackened stone?”
t
he hunter was stalling, knowing by the aura, the buzzing of small gnats, and the voice
,
that t
his creature was a demon summoned and bound to this place. Lavress felt fear, but ignored it knowing that the presence of a creature from hell could instill many feelings against his will. He peered around the statue again, noticing the claws, the teeth, the eyes; he was trying to guess how the foul underworld servant of the old Gods
was able to turn
these people to stone. He met the gaze of the wolf-beast and felt nothing, saw no rings of magic or symbols on the wicked claws or teeth
on quick inspection
. Lavress surmised it was either a vested power or spell, or the breath or saliva. The wood elf knew that he had to disrupt the words should it start to chant and not get bit
ten
or breathed upon.

”
Ahhh
, you know not of the old ones? Yjaros the creator of all, Cancuru, Shukuru, Mowg,
the demons
Daitann,
Mulitan, the children and immortals
of the green moon, the lords of Gimmor, rulers of hell and the flesh? My masters bid thee welcome, elf, and accept you into an eternity of torment to whic
h I am about to send your
mortal soul.”
m
ore orange saliva dripped and spat onto the stone floor, burning and smoldering as the demon spoke.
It stalked through the statues of those it had condemned, moving when the elf did, like a cat and mouse routine.

“I think my soul is safe with Seirena, demon. Tell your masters another time.” Lavress dove from behind the statue into a tucked roll between its legs, brushing a hairless tail that moved like a snake. He cut with his kukri dagger as he passed, slicing through the fur-smattered flesh on the demon’s leg. The hunter
then
sprang to his feet, turned left beside the glowing pool and dove into an alcove that provided cover and shadow.
Just as his shoulder turned the quick corner behind stone, a rancid hot blast of foul wet air sizzled into the rock. Dim orange light flickered out as the saliva turned to acrid smoke and sulfuric residue. Lavress knew now, looking at the black shine to the corner he had turned, that it was the hellish breath that gave this creature
the power to turn things to black stone
.

The beast stalked forward, stepping by the pool and growling an unearthly tone that seemed to darken the entire cavern. It breathed in deep again, puffing its chest out as it filled with air that was now ready to cover the elf and encapsule him in volcanic rock. It looked around the alcove, orange and black wind streaming from behind sharp fangs, yet nothing was there. It felt the dig of enchanted steel across its back, then again in the thigh. The wolf-demon turned to see the shadow of the elf duck and slide behind another statue of one of its victims. “You are quick, little morsel, even for an elf. I shall enjoy watching you scream in place forever.”

The wood elf hunter stayed still, waiting to sense where the creature would move to next. He heard steps on the right of the statue of a robed woman he hid behind. Lavress feinted to turn and face the demon, then spun back the other way and sprung high in the air after just three rapid steps. Black claws ripped out at him from an outs
tretched arm of the massive wolven
guardian. The hunter of the Hedim Anah stabbed the kukri through the palm as it came toward him, and slashed down w
ith the shoulder of the curve of
his deadly falcata, severing the wrist clean off. Not stopping to see the blood, the wounded demon, or the clawed hand that lay on the stone floor; he landed into another roll and slid quickly behind another statue.

Howls and hisses blended with the ripping of hot acidic breath cast a deafening cacophony throughout the entire chamber. Lavress held still knowing that one small move from his covered location would get him smothered in the orange hellflames that sprayed from the demon’s mouth. One false motion would result in
his body becoming like the obsidian
statue he hid behind.
Black smoke steamed from the floor
and statue, shiny bubbling paste
formed from deep orange liquid making it nearly impossible to breath.
The hunter waited for the moment inbetween the demon’s steps and inhalation of more air, hearing that split second of a chance to make his move. This time he feigned to roll out low, then pulled back as he heard the sizzling breath unleash. He pretended to dive to the other side, and the demon was waiting there
,
clawed hand ready. Lavress stepped back to his left again, leaping high in the air, leading with the falcata. He struck down with all his speed and strength at the hunched wolven creature from hell, the curved blade piercing through the top of the canine snout of his foe. The hunter shoved the blade down to the hilt, penetrating both the top and bottom jaws, then kicked his legs up and around onto the creature’s back, still holding the falcata for balance.

The demon roared and howled, it’s clawed hand over Lavress’ hand, trying t
o remove the blade that held it
s jaws together as orange saliva poured from it’s mouth and fangs. The hunter held on tight as the beast
twisted and turned, whipping it
s body with great strength. He plunged his kukri dagger into the demon’s neck once, twice, faster than even he could count.
Bright crimson blood with the smell of decay covered the savage elf’s arm and legs as he began slicing his attacks through deeper flesh.
The demon thrashed as it
s severed neck drained wicked blood down t
he hairless front muscles of it
s demon form. The hunter did not give up, tossing his dagger into the air, he switched hands on the falcata, then caught the spinning kukri dagger as it descended back down. As the demon smashed him into the wall of the forgotten and forbidden temple, Lavress began driving the dagger through the right side of the neck and shoulders. The wood elf could feel his curved blade scraping vertebrae now, so he pulled the falcata free to sever the head of this beast. As he pulled the blade, the demon gave another shrug of muscle and desperation.

The hunter found himself sprawled out on
the stone floor, blades in hand
as this canine guardian from the fires of the netherworld turned to face him; still very much alive and dangerous. It breathed again, attempting to turn the elf into black stone, yet the air and flaming saliva sprayed out down the chest of the demon as his throat and lungs were punctured.
Lavress sprang to his feet quickly, lunged upward, and buried both blades into the chest of the wolven demon just as it’s claw raked across his back. It fell backwards, but not down to the ground. Hissing, snarling, splattering blood and vile orange incendiary liquid all over itself, the beast staggered and looked around for the elf.

The slash from the falcata severed the muscle above the back of the demon’s knee, and it fell to a kneeling position, claw flailing to catch the hunter. Again from the shadows, a deadly chop from the forward curved edge hit true; this time severing the exposed spine above the shoulders. The wolven head of the hellborn
e
creature fell to the stone floor by the shimmering pool, and the massive demon body followed.
Lavress watched as black smoke erupted from the corpse of the bestial guardian he had defeated, and the howling sound of a thousand wolves echoed in the cavern
as it slowly disintegrated
into a pool of gray and black
.
He felt his wound, three deep cuts through his leather and hides across his shoulder blade
s
that had moistened his clothing with blood.

Lavress Tilaniun, savage wood elf of the Hedim Anah, walked over to the now smoldering statue of Eliah Shendrynn holding the fourth book of high elven magic. He smelled the sulfur stronger now, and saw the
sizzling begin not just on Eliah, but all of the thirty or so figures around him. Slow motions, muffled moans, and bits of sticky bubbling black shiny paste fell and smoldered
off of them; the curse releasing
as the demonic remains of their captor writhed and decayed in the temple. Lavress thought of killing them as they arose, since every one of them came to find power through the worship of old demons and forbidden dark Gods
in a once holy place
.
His honor would not allow it, no matter how much justice his mind told him was deserved here. He pulled on the book, tearing it from the rejuvenating form of the highborne elven wizard.
The arm and hand twisted unnaturally, yet he had the tome.

Several forms fell to the ground as the onyx paste fell from their bodies and black acrid smoke filled the air in the cavern shrine. Moans and groans echoed with the fading demonic wolf howls from the remaining puddle of melting flesh that was the guardian demon. He tucked the ancient arcane tome into his satchel, sheathed his sword, and drew his longbow. Lavress thought of his friend Bedesh the satyr who had perished. Every time he drew the bow his thoughts saddened as he recalled his brave little horned forest companion that had stood against the Nadderi elf swordsman, Kendari.

Forced to refocus his attentions forward as he walked out of the
sacred
shrine
used to contact
dark Gods, Lavress heard the ear piercing shrieks of many harpies from outside the entrance. Shadows of winged cursed fey women covered the passage out, arrows shot into the temple from
nearly two dozen bone bows, and the hunter realized there was no escaping that many. He turned
and ran back through the rising
victims of the demon, past the smoke that rose from their reawakening, and onto the solid glowing liquid of the ceremonial pool.
The airborn witches were s
warming toward him, and the rising captives of many centuries
surrounded him with no escape
,
then
the harpies screeched on quick wing to kill and feast on all who moved before their witching eyes.

Lavress felt the liquid soften, moisten, and glow a strange purple, yet his body and mind resisted it on instinct. The noise of the harpies was deafening, and the added screams of newly waking priests, wizards, and sorcerers only added to his distraction. As arrows shot past him, the wood elf held the book tight, closed his eyes, and thought of release and of Seirena. He vacated his thoughts and tried to meditate on flowing through the liquid of the pool that he knew would take him somewhere else. His body sank, slowly, then faster as he allowed it to swallow him down. His body tingled, then sharp pain wracked him a
s a
harpy arrow pierced his chest near the right shoulder, then another into his right thigh, and then he was gone.

All was dark lights of purple and green, his form seemed to be there, then not at all, then there again as he felt cold once more.
Falling to the solidified liquid of the portal, Lavress let go of the tome and pulled the arrows out quickly. His eyes adjusted to the dark, he looked around from where he lay, injured and freezing cold. He knew this place, the stalagmites, the rough edged cavern and faint image of sconces on the sides of the natural walls. He was in Chazzrynn again, in the Deep South beyond Arouland and the Western Waste
inside the forgotten Gimmorian Temple that Eliah had escaped him through
. He heard the waves crash along the cliffs from the Vateric Ocean. He felt that he was alone, safe, but in the middle of nowhere. The hunter of the Hedim Anah was days from anything resembling civilization, and a week from the nearest Temple of the Whitemoon. He had no idea if or when Eliah might appear through the portal, if he survived the harpies. He started to bind his wounds, and ready himself for a long journey throu
gh the late winter of Chazzrynn, fourth stolen book of High Elven Magick in hand.

Exodus II:IX

Ansharr’s Cavern, Soujan Mountain, Harlaheim

Gwenneth Lazlette felt the power of the treasury, her senses of arcane energies nearly giving her mind too much to handle. There were at least sixty items of arcane enchantment, twelve of fey infused blessings, and eight that had divine power she could not truly gauge the depth of. Such trove
s were the stuff of legend
and tales of dragonslaying knights of old; yet here the young wizard stood over such a collection
this very moment
.
Her eyes wandered from a redwood staff topped with an emerald, to a long indigo robe with arcane runes and draconic symbols, to a g
olden tiara fitted with rubies
. What they did, she did not know; but she could tell they were powerful.