The Exodus Sagas: Book II - Of Dragons And Crowns (47 page)

“Enough!” Cristoff turned toward the two of them. “Discuss it after a nights rest and some warm food, maybe some wine, but not now and not here.”

“Some wine? James would love some wine-“

“Why is it you despise me so and insist on prodding me? I find it difficult to tolerate your incessant
jests at my expense, Gwenneth. Perhaps you are just jealous that someone besides yourself has been shown some attention.” James stared at her, restraining his anger as he noticed Cristoff and Zen slowly walking back toward them.

“You have gained much more attention and far more reward than you deserve, James Andellis. I am not jealous, but I pity you and your ability to hide the past under the rug and carry on in the name of God.” Gwenne’s face took a serious countenance as she taunted more in hopes
of angering the man who carries
her
long deceased
father
’
s sword.
She glanced at the blade, the winged griffon crosspiece, then back at James who saw every movement of her eyes.

James began to say something he would have regretted, but his mind made a connection between the sword and the woman, his former Lord who once was the captain of the guard in Vallakazz
and the wizard before him
, and he stopped for a moment to breath
e
. Before he could start putting things
together, James and
those around him
all went on guard hearing
yells of pain from up ahead. Not a female elven voice, and surely not the low growl of a gray minotaur, but a man in a struggle with
someone and resisting with rebellious roars and howls. All four of them sprinted as fast as their legs would go toward the west over the forest covered hilltop.

“Let me go!!! I must see my Lord,
aarrgghh
!!!” Norrice fought the grip of the horned beast despite an elven longblade tipped near his throat. He had not slept but a few stolen hours in a barn in the last two days as he cut through the wilderness and countryside to avoid being found. The soldier had hoped to find Cristoff before he arrived home and was killed in his own hall
s
.

“Hold
there Saberrak, I know this man.
” Cristoff ran toward the massive gray minotaur who had Norrice in a painful hold with his head pulled back and arm twisted behind his back. The Lord of Saint Erinsburg motioned for Lady Shinayne to lower her blade from the soldier’s throat and step back.

“He was waiting in that tree there, and he is armed.” Saberrak grunted and kept the hold a little less painful for the human.

“My Lord! You are alive, you are alive! I have been traveling for days to find you.
” Norrice tried to bow his
head as best as the minotaur would allow.

“Of course he is alive. Is there reason he should not be?” Shinayne sheathed her enchanted longblade and waited for the ragged soldier to answer.

“Well yes, and no, I’m not sure really. I do bring disturbing news my
lady, my lord, and warnings.” t
he starving soldier was nervous, never having been held hostage by a minotaur or interrogated by a beautiful elven woman before. His mind raced on what he did and did not want to say.

“What is it you must tell me Norrice? Saberrak, it is fine, you may let him go.” Lord Cristoff waved his hand
and then helped the man to his feet.

Norrice felt the grip release further as he rose to his feet and felt the hot breath from a loud snort of distaste and
distrust from the gray minotaur
. He knelt immediately after standing and bowed his head. “My Lord Bradswellen, your cousin Sir Savanno Lisario is dead.”

Long silence between all present shrouded the uncounted moments, no one wishing to be the first to break it. Eyes glanced back and forth to one another, but mostly to the Lord of Saint Erinsburg. “And Queen Rosana?”

Norrice sighed with his head bowed still. “Taken prisoner by the king and Lady Florin, my Lord. They beat her and cut her hair and disguised-“

“How did this happen? Where are the rest of the men? Damn it where is my cousin!?” Cristoff lifted the soldier to his feet with a bit too much force and pressed him against a pine tree. His anger was brimming in his tone along with the redness
of hate
and pain in his face.

“S
ire, we rescued the queen and made it past the royal guard and the bishop. But we were separated and set up by the king. He had us ambushed just south of Saint Erinsburg my lord. I am the only one who survived. I tell you now, they are wait
ing for you and these fugitives. Please my lord, do not return home. They know you helped Savanno
, as did Sir Sulian
. My sole purpose these last few days has been to try and find you before they did, to warn you before they killed you.” Norrice began to sob, to shake, and to feel the weariness of his travels in the cold without food or shelter.

“The queen carries Savanno’s child, she is pregnant. Richmond would be a fool to kill her and end his line of blood and claim to the throne. He would also make a vicious enemy of Caberra should Rosana’s father the king hear of it in his country. Why would he take such chances with his future rule? It does not make sense.” Cristoff was thinking aloud, trying to put the pieces together.

“My lord. Lady Florin is disguised as the queen, her resemblance could fool most. The queen is made to look like Florin, who I believe will be-“

“
-
c
harged with all the crimes along with my deceased cousin, and they will execute her to bring justice and therefore bolstering the king’s rule.
Florin’s mask will last long enough for something tragic to happen, and frame another for that as well.
He will use the pity of being betrayed, the glory of being in harms way, and the honor of doing justice to his own
subordinates yet
secretly disposing of any and all who have stood in his way. All the while, the people will begin to praise him. Brilliant.
Wicked, evil, and brilliant.
” t
he lord sighed, resigned to knowing his cousin was dead, the queen lost, and his very name and title waiting to be taken by blood. He thought of his wife and children far away in Caberra, and hoped it was far enough from here that they were safe.
“Fabled Mooncrest and the haunted mines of Kakisteele are sounding much more hospitable than what I have in store
here
in Harlaheim, good priest.”

“How can we help, Cristoff?” Zen bowed his head, thinking that without his men and military experience, they would not have survived the attack on the mountain. The dwarf took debt and gratitude very seriously.

“
I would love to charge into Harlaheim, to the capital, and demand justice and save
Rosana. I do not have the men
nor the luxury of time. I might not make it into my own city, let alone raise my army. There is little that
can be done here.” Cristoff sat down next to the trunk of the tree, a host of pine needles crunching under his steel plate armor. He ran his fingers t
hrough his graying long
hair and scratched his beard. His brow furrowed in defeat and despair, knowing he could not do anything to change what had happened or
what was
about to in the capital.

Shinayne knelt next to the lord, her hand placed on his shoulderplate. “You have enemies of your family and your kingdom inside your very city.
A secret siege of a wicked ruler awaits.
You have lost loved ones to corruption and betrayal. You have honor on your
name and nobility in your veins. S
tand up.”

“What did you say, elf?” Cristoff was shocked and insulted at the seeming order of the elven swordswoman.

“I told you to stand up, Lord Cristoff
Bradswellen the Third
. Your man has nearly died trying to find you before the enemy did. Stand up for him, and for Savanno.” Shinayne backed up, seeing the anger flare in the eyes of the man before her.

“I would watch my tone if I were you, Lady Shinayne. My men have died for you and your friends as well. I know w
hen to stand and when not to!” h
is voice rose with the wind in late winter as he stood. His hand went to the hilt of his longsword and his teeth tightened as he spoke.

“Is that a threat, my lord?”

“It is far more than that should you disrespect me again!”

“Seems y
ou do have the strength to stand and fight then, Lord Bradswellen. You may
thank me later.” Shinayne turned and began to walk west down the small road toward Saint Erinsburg.

“Where are you going!?”

The elven noblewoman turned as she kept her pace, and smiled at Cristoff and the others who began to follow her. “
To your city, to stand with you and put
your enemies to justice
.
What could be more important to a lord than to protect his land and people?
”

Cristoff sighed, smiled to the ground, and watched as Gwenneth, Zen, Saberrak, James, and even the soldier, Norrice, walked on. He looked to the sky, silently thanking God for the people he had sent in his darkest hours. The deep pain of his cousin’s death still vibrant in his chest, yet the sense of a lord
’
s duty came over him like a flood over the pastures of late spring. Cristoff marched ahead to make his stand
. “Norrice.”

“Yes my lord?”

“Tell me everything, get some foo
d, and clean yourself up
. Prepare
yourself
,
I will need every man for
battle.”

Exodus II:XII

Bradswellen Castle, Saint Erinsburg, Harlaheim

The setting sun behind him in the east gave little comfort as he waited for Norrice
’
s return from Bradswellen C
astle.
It had been an hour
and Cristoff stared at the hundred
s of
men of the army of Harlaheim that patrolled his city gates and castle walls. He had never had to war against his own country, let alone in his own domain or castle. The Lord of Saint Erinsburg was patient, knowing his defenses and layout better than anyone would give him the advantage, but he needed more than just
his foreign allies to overcome two
hundred trained soldiers.

“How many soldiers will your man be
able to retrieve safely
?” Zen asked with a bit of nervousness, knowing that with Shinayne, Saberrak a
nd James far ahead near the castle
, they would have to be well guarded to make a stand until the gates were opened.

“He will get enough, do not worry. When the men arrive, we will march in. Gwenne, I will need you to handle the archers. While they are distracted with us, the others will enter over the north wall and open the gates from the inside. Then we move in and retake
the castle with the men from the inside in assist.” t
he Lord
of Saint Erinsburg felt confide
nt in the plan, as long as they timed it correctly.

“I will handle more than the archers Cristoff, far more.” Gwenneth felt the power growing in her staff, having tapped into several of the arcane glyphs over the past few days of travel. The prodigal wiza
rd felt ages old magic and energies
seeping from the ancient item, and felt herself in tune with part of it at least.

Azenairk knelt down and faced west to pray. He laid his warhammer and enchanted helmet down before him and clutched his hammer and moons amulet. He whispered prayers to Vundren, God of his people and the mountains, for the blessings of strength in battle and mercy for those that may perish this day. Zen asked, in his thick dwarven dialect, for guidance in the hours to come and that God honor and watch over his friends.
Feeling
a
t complete peace and ease after a few minutes of silence, the dwarven priest rose and put his helmet atop his head and picked up his heavy hammer from the cold ground.
His mind was clear, his body relaxed, and his spirit felt as though he had just reawakened from a restful sleep in a warm bed.

“They are coming, Norrice and the men. Prepare yourselves.” Cristoff drew his engraved and jeweled
holy
longsword
and admired his enchanted armor
of the deceased King Herrimus
that the dra
gon
had given him. He hoped that with dwarven blessings, enchanted arms, and a mighty wizard at his sid
e that they would have a chance to lure out most of the occupation and give Shinayne and the others a good chance to get the gate open and let the cavalry out.

Gwenneth, Zen, and Lord Cristoff watched as a group of men snuck through the sparse forest on the north side of Bradswellen Castle. Norrice led them in a line through shadows of the setting sun and cover
of the rural merchants
. He crept low behind the small hill where his lord was positioned to avoid notice of the archers on the walls. He caught his breath and the weary veteran soldier knelt before Cristoff.