The Exodus Sagas: Book II - Of Dragons And Crowns (5 page)

“No, you
were
Lady Shinayne
, and I am afraid I can tell you no more
.
I don’t know
of
any,
White Spider
did you say?
” Alec’s rapier dove ahead, then back as she parried, his body turning and crouching low. The shortsword and rapier cut across low to the pier, the elf jumping over them, and backing up.

Shinayne cut across at the assassins face, and he ducked back. Her subsequent lunge with the shortblade w
as parried with both his swords
and pushed to the ground. She countered with another arcing slice from the longblade. Alec spun left, avoiding the cut, and began a flurry of short and fast cuts toward the elf. Her parries were matching every attack, stopping them edge to edge, the steel ringing across the harbor. She let him back her up near the lighthouse, countering with fast attacks of her own, keeping them low and short, drawing him in. She maneuvered to the right, close to the wooden support pole, and then past it, smiling. The young swordsman stopped, sensing she wanted him closer, his attacks went longer, lunging from a few paces further back. She knew he was hesitant now, just what she had hoped for.

Shinayne sprung forward, lunging with point cuts and arcing long swings, driving Alec back. His parries were quick, faster than any human she had seen. She cut closer now, side to side, trying to throw his guard off. The elven swordswoman then backed up a step, and put her heel on the wooden pillar, and pushed off hard. Her wet boots met the slick wood of the rainy pier, and she ducked low as she slid across, under his weapons. Alec Silverblade spun as the elf went past him, and put his guard low. Shinayne cut down with her curved shortblade, purposefully into the crossed weapons of her enemy. Her right hand slashed up a
cross the assassin’s chest
from waist to shoulder, even
cut
acr
oss his nose and cheek. The cut was
deep and surprising to the stunned swordsman, as he felt cold metal sever flesh. The boot to his abdomen
sent him backwards off the pier
and quickly into the cold waters of the bay.

“Now you
have
lost a duel, Alec Silverblade, and the scar to show for it.” Shinayne sheathed her swords.
The swordsman did not reappear as she had expected, minutes passed, yet nothing surfaced.
She looked around, waiting for the humiliated young Harlian man to appear somewhere and run off. Nothing.

The elven noble tore the armor off of one of the men she had dispatched, then the black tunic moist with rain and blo
od. She looked at the shoulder
and saw the brand of the white spider in his dead flesh. The elf
had fought nearly thirty men, only killing a few, and always outnumbered the last three weeks
in Harlaheim.
She and Saberrak had foiled many traps and midnight hunts of those
seeking their friends for the S
croll of Annar, yet this time she did it alone.
Finally, she confirmed
that the White Spider was here as well, and hopefully they got the message that the other stalkers had gotten. She and Saberrak had been hunting the night, protecting the tower from its enemies that had been getting closer every week. Shinayne hoped that the minotaur had as much luck as herself this rainy evening, and went to meet her horned friend and the re
st of the soldiers of Kalzarius in the deep of the dark city.

Exodus II:I

C
ity of Harlaheim

Her dark cloaked shadow moved with her through the early morning streets. Sunlight began to trickle through the high rising buildings, still glistening from the rains. Carice and Gimmor waned, vanishing into the north and east as clouds of purple drifted across their moonlight. Shinayne saw the trail of her breath, only faint as the cold here was not like that of the kingdom of Chazzrynn to the south. Her hands rested at her side, feeling safe as she saw the gray cloaked guards of Kalzarius ahead on Nen Fleur Street. The elven noble lowered her ho
od from her long thin ears
and stepped from the shadows to reveal her presence.

“Lady T’Sarrin, we have been worried all ni
ght about you.” t
he capitan spoke as he gave a slight bow, realizing the elf was not stopping to converse.

“You should be more worried about those that
I find
, Capitan. Did Saberrak catch anyone in his routes?” Shinayne took a turn around every twenty steps or so, watching her trail and the rooftops.

“No, m’Lady, we saw nothing this night, and Saberrak the gray returned to the tower to rest some time ago.
We did not see you at rendezvous. Did you see any-“

“Yes, six men. One may have survived, and they were all White Spider for certain. I took them at the docks, doubt
ful there were any witnesses.” s
he kept moving, still a mile from the grand glowing tower of the ancient wizard. More and more guards fell in step behind her, leaving their various vantage points throughout the city.

A look of surprise crossed the capitan’s face. “
The docks? That is far out of the areas we discussed.
You took on six agents of the White Spider alone, m’Lady? How did you manage that?”

“Easily and quickly
.” Shinayne smiled, seeing the humbling look of shock on the grown Harlian man’s face. “Elven nobles train in the art of the sword and Simnorri styles for two decades, good capitan, I just trained for a few more.”

“What is
Simnorri,
Lady T’Sarrin, if you do not mind my asking?” he smiled, impressed with the confidence the elven woman possessed.
He
had seen the prowress of both she and the minotaur, putting proof to the growing legends that spread of late.

“It is the style of attuning oneself with two weapons, one longer and one shorter. My people are gifted with such matching blades, passed down to every royal generation, and taught to use them as our ancestors did in the ancient city of Viala Simnorr. That forest citadel was lost many, many centuries ago, but the practice and tradition lives on amo
ng the nobility of the elves.” l
ike she had taught it herself, Shinayne recited the brief history to the capitan without a thought.

“Could you teach it to someone, perhaps, who is
not
an elf?” a glimmer of interest and envy flashed across the capitan’s eyes.

“If you have twenty years to spare, most certainly capitan. I will have to change your religious beliefs, and trim your ears as well, if that is all right with yo
u. What do you know of Siril?” s
he laughed, breaking her serious demeanor at the thought of training a human in such a spiritual and time consuming art, let alone menti
oning the God of the elves to a
Harlian man.

“The rapier is fine m’lady.” he nodded and chuckled.

Over two hundred feet of
white marble blended with gray
stretched out before her
and cascaded into the morning light
. Guards opened the gates as the sun rose fully behind them, light that dimmed the magical illuminations of the grand structure. Eleven men behind her in step, the elven swordswoman entered the
well guarded Tower of Kalzarius
and went to wake her friends.
First
, she thought
, I must rest and meditate
. Three days and nights with no sleep had left her spirit a bit cold and in need of centering. Her thoughts drifted quickly to Lavress Tilaniun and where he might be at this very moment, hoping to feel him in her dreams. She wondered about Bedesh, and what they had left in the wake of their escape from Chazzrynn.
She would not mention anything to Saberrak in regard to him abandoning again in the night, she knew it was the scroll of Annar that called him. She had seen it and felt it lately, his desire to not be far from it growing stronger.

LCMVXI
ILCMVXIILCMVXIILCMVX

Gwenneth Lazlette watched intently as her old teacher reached the bottom of the scroll, its length rolled out across the massive mahogany table. Kalzarius and she had been up all night, finishing the final incantations that were hidden in the ancient writings of the history contained within. It had taken over a week for them to translate it with the help of a scribe from the Library Fastine, and another week to get
past the enchantments that had hidden a secret set of mystical chants that held great power
of unveiling yet another set of histori
es in ancient Altestani dialect
. Now, the young prodigy and the elderly master had retraced their steps, ensuring that all they had deciphered was correct.

The old wizard looked up from under his white hair and stroked his long gray beard. ”I believe, my child, that should do it. An amazing find there is no doubt, and it is no wonder it is so sought after. This scroll could break the very foundations that the entire worship in Altestan is founded upon
, even many religions long lost here on Agara
. It cannot stay here, however.
I would like to test the magicks that are so intricately woven through the centuries of history.” His white robes with black arcane markings flowed behind him as he paced around the table.

“Is that safe? Not that I am worried, anxious really. What do you think it will invoke?” Gwenne looked over her notes, feeling that the energy latent inside the scroll would summon forth something, she could tell by the symbols of the arcane blended with the old
magick
Carician dialect. Her green eyes were tired and burning from weeks of reading, and her black hair was pulled back over her fai
r complexion after she had grown weary
of dodging candles.

Kalzarius walked toward the
window of the nineteenth floor
and gazed at the morning sun rising in the west over the bay. “It is a holy incantation, certainly not of infernal design, in fa
ct it is quite the opposite. Since
this is truly written by Annar, son of Megos, brother to Alden the Lord of Heaven, than we have much to ask of your minotaur friend that found it.”

“He knows little, just an uneducated beast more than anything. Do we really have-“

“Yes. I insist, and Bishop Javiel should be here as well. Sir James and Azenairk said his confidence was genuine and that he would keep these matters quiet until they were safe to speak of. Gwenne, we are beyond the mere arcane here, this is a powerful matter of religious, historical, and holy importance. I dare not go further with the incantations. They glow a strong blue already since we read them, I do not wish to be ill prepared or on the wrong side of the church with this.” Kalzarius was stern, staring at the slightest variation in the blue mist of light that shone above certain letters and symbols on the strange parchment.

There was a long pause, the old wiza
rd stroking his long gray beard
and the young woman pacing, her thoughts on what would happen
if
. They looked at each other for an eternity, broken finally by the opening of the heavy wooden doors to the study. The rush of air fluttered Gwenne’s
black robes with golden trim, and loosed her hair once again. Thankfully, it also put out the candles before her hair was singed for the tenth time.

Saberrak walked in, much as he always did, little concern for pleasantries. His metal scale
armor form fitting and shining
and his intimidating minotaur prowess from behind the horns and tattoos thereof under his eyes radiated through the chamber. The dwarven priest stomped behind him in his heavy steel plate adorned with his hammer and moons etchings, his black beard trim and head shaved as always. James followed them in, dressed in his chainmail, white tabard with the red feathered cross, and blue sash of knighthood
draped from shoulder guards of steel adorned with black falconheads
. They each gave their respectful bows to Kalzarius and Gwenneth as they passed the entrance.

“Vundren be praised, are you done?” Azenairk’s blue eyes lit up, hoping to be able to leave soon. He cared not where, but even his friends noticed his anxiety this last week. He knew he had to find his way west for his father
eventually
,
yet
there was something about this scroll that made him nervous. A feeling in his daily prayers, a sense of divine inspiration in the air, something overwhelming that had him wanting to leave.
The scroll has nothing to do with dwarven religion, nothing at all
, he thought. He knew that he held a key, his heirloom, to a great place far from here and wished to c
ommence that direction at least instead of waiting to be trapped by the multitude of cutthroats here in Harlaheim.
He, Saberrak, and James had been waiting, eavesdraopping at the door for some time now. It was hard to decide who was more impatient.

“Not quite Zen, but today or tomorrow for certain. James, how did your meeting with Lord Savanno fare us? Do we have his backing and that of the Order of Saint Tarumin?” the old arcane professor watched the silent minotaur while conversing with the others.
He saw the bovine glare to the scroll, like they were speaking, the scroll and the minotaur.