The Exodus Sagas: Book IV - Of Moons and Myth (93 page)

I began writing these tales, long overdue, and I now have but fourteen left
to scribe
. I hope Saberrak
Agrannar’s
strength is with you, Shinayne
T’Sarrin’s
love inspires you, and the honor of James Andellis guides you every day. I
can only wish that your loyalty to family and deed match that of Azenairk Thalanaxe, and your days are marvelous like the magicks of Gwenneth Lazlette.
We have crossed Chazzrynn and the Western Wastes, battled in Vallakazz and Valhirst, then sailed the seas to Harlaheim. Through treachery and noble blood we fought on, and met many a deadly dragon and honorable knight. In dangerous Devonmir we left our mark, then through the Misathi and Marlennak we trudged the summer heat. Giants and cannibals sought to thwart us, yet we prevailed. Shanador and Evermont heard our calling, and into the lands of fable and legend we passed darkly. We emerged, against all odds, and we stand together now in a new kingdom. Many died for this victory, and I can only hope you a
re inspired to read further, as the tale continues…
with Gwenneth…

…
Wha
tever obstacles
stop you,
huff
and
leap
over them
,
never surrender
. Where you have love, seek and follow it
,
to whatever end
. Whe
n you feel to go, take a spiritual journey
. On your travels, embrace it all with every moment
,
all the way
.
And if ever you falter, remember that you are never alone,
not even close
. Then, oneday, perhaps you will find
your Mooncrest
.

---Jason R Jones, August 14 2012

Gillian, Shanador

A tear fell from my eye, then another, and then I wiped my sleeve across my face. It was hard to tell this story, even to my son, for in my life, victory and honor had been unfamiliar dreams.

“So did the Armondeen people leave them alone, dada?” Alessandeir yawned from his bed. His blue eyes were puffy, from tears of joy, sadness, and weariness.

“No, I am afraid not, son. But that story is for another time. It is late, the moons are high in the sky, and little boys should be asleep by now.” I smiled to him as I pointed out his window.

“But what happened to Johnas and the spiders and the wolves and the dragons and
all them?”

“Agara was a dark place then, son. Harlaheim, Willborne, and Chazzrynn were held by King Johnas
Valhera
.
King Phillip, King Valistor, and Queen Katrina had
all
made an alliance under him, and his webs grew even more.
He set his eye
s on Caberra and Kivanis, obsessed with ruling the continent
. Shanador had protected the realms so long that they were stretched thin, and Altestan knew it as well. Dark times son, for everyone.” I recalled it all, as if it had happened yesterday.

“Not everyone, cuz they won and freed Mooncrest, right?”

“Very true, very true.”

“And they had hope, right?”

“Yes indeed. Hope came with the Red Wolves and Kalzarius in Harlaheim, as the forces of Johnas now had an enemy in the dark streets and cities at night. Hope also came from Vallakazz and Southwind Keep, as Alexei T’Vellon and Aelaine Lazlette had survived.”

“And the prince, Bryant, he survived too.”

“Yes. The greatest hope though, was that of Mooncrest. Word spread fast, across the kingdoms, then the whole continent, then the known world within a year. The mythical city of temples, the mines of legend, and the fabled elven kingdom all had been the things of history and dreams. Yet now, thousands of people from all over the world, noble and common alike, traveled to see the wondrous lands that had been reopened and freed, by but a few. Th
e five companions became legendary
, the city grew and flourished, a
nd it was full of love and hope under the moons.” I began to drift, thinking of all I knew of Mooncrest, now
,
and back when it had been destroyed two thousand years ago or more.

“
Did you meet them, the heroes of Mooncrest?” His blue eyes widened, fighting the sleep as questions rose in his curious mind.

“I did.”

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

“Did you help them win, were you there for the battle dada?” Alessandeir sat up in his bed now.

“No, that took place five or more years before you were born. Nearly a decade ago now.”

“What’s a decade?” Curly blonde hair all a mess, his eyes barely blinked, and he was deep in thought.

“Ten years, son.” I hugged Alessandeir, intent on him going to sleep, and I pulled his blankets up to his chin. “A decade is ten years.”

“So are you friends with Queen Shinayne?”
My four year old boy, I had kept him so isolated here, the word
friends
seemed an odd word to come from his lips.

“Sort of, perhaps. We have met and we know of each other.” I smiled, recalling my first meeting with the beautiful elves of Tintasarn.

“So can I learn to fight like her, with all those swords and so fast like that? And like Lavress
and Kendari
?”
My son smiled a bright grin as his dimples shown.

“I am not that fast, but I can teach you the sword. Sticks first, steel when you are older, son.” I flicked his nose with my finger and he giggled.

“Will I be strong and big like Saberrak
Agrannar
when I am all growed up and up?”

“I hope so son, not quite that big, but you will be strong and devoted to honesty and courage, I have no doubt.” My mind began to wander, knowing in my youth I was not devoted to anything but power.

“Can I grow horns and get tattooes of them under my----“

“No.
Absolutely not.
”

“
Awwww
.
Can I have a glowing blue hand like Sir James and throw lightning like Gwenne?” Alessandeir made a pouty face, a face that made me smile.

“I can teach you those things, some of them anyway, when you are older.” I though
t
of my wine cellar, the passage through it, and all that I had in secret, from thousands of years ago. “It is time to sleep son, under the blankets now.”

“Can I learn magic, like you and Gwenneth Lazlette do, dada?” Alessandeir grunted and sighed as he began to fall asleep.

“Ye
s son, in time. I will teac---
.” I closed my eyes and prayed that he would not make my mistakes.

“No, I want to learn from Gwenneth, can I dada?” He rubbed his eyes and looked to mine.

“We shall see, son. Perhaps.”

“
Dada,
I think I want to be like Zen the most.” He yawned again.

“Why?” My eyebrows raised, curious as to his young rationale.

“He is the king, his God is always with him, and he does not kiss girls like James does. If I can’t have horns, I want a beard then, like king Zen.” He rubbed his chin, raised it up, and crossed his arms.
“King Alessandeir Azarris, son of Sodom.”

“Ha!” I laughed until my eyes watered, thinking of my boy with a full beard. “But you are not a dwarf.”

“So? His God lets him see his dead family, so then I can see mom, right?” His eyes bore holes through me, a serious question that I was not ready for.

I paused, I had no response, my eyes watered a bit. “Son, she is up there, just look to the sky, and close your eyes.”

“I know
dada
.”

“Allright then, it is time---“

“Dada?”

“Yes, son.” I sighed, even I was tiring now.

“If you were not at the battle, how did you see all these things and know these stories
?
” He cuddled into his blankets, half his head covered as he lay on his side, head on the pillow. His right eye looked at me, while the other was hidden with wool.

Another question I was not ready for, this one I could not answer honestly
,
either. My son was four, too young to hear of the things that were now flashing in my mind. Two millennia of damnation and servitude had left many a scar, some on my flesh, and some much deeper. I saw his eye drift shut, then mine followed as I sat next to his bed, and the world faded away…

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The flames
were black and red as far as my
eye
s
could see, the smoke that rose was death incarnate, and the black pits in the crimson stone swirled with screams from souls that endured torment like no other could imagine. It was Infiernum, the lowest pit of Hell, and in the valley of the throne of the fistborn son, Shukuru roared with a might that shook al
l the six Hells above his seat of power
.

His throne,
it was
made of blackened feathers, golden skulls, and rising high into the black sky with inverted mountains. The mountains
dripped blood like rain,
for tens of thousands hung
in eternal damnation, from chains of green steel that burned them
constantly in the horrid afterlife. Shukuru spread his bat like wings from his towering twenty feet in height, and at his whim, souls perished to nothingness.

I remember when it happened. Not the day or the year, for those things did not exist
t
here. But, I recall that moment, and I will as long as I live. I was hiding, like so many others, as the L
ord of Hell was never pleasant
when angry. Yet, in my cavern in the mountains, I had learned to use my infernal magicks to a degree. My blood had dripped into a small fissure, from wounds of self inflicted nature, and I could see in the reflection of my crimson stain until it dried. I had been watching the world, from afar, hoping one day to see it again in the flesh.
I was careful, only being caught and flogged on a few occasions, yet I had seen Agara once more, and it was worth the pain.
Demons flew past by the thousands, still I stared into the view of the mortal world.

How many centuries I had been here, I did not know. I was cursed, damned to service. I had run messages, traveled the infernal realms on foot, an errand boy for two thousand years as decreed by God, Yjaros, for my transgressions. Ten centuries in Mictalan, the dead lands, in service to Mowg for
my forbidden love of someone that was no more and for hiding her away from Him. Ten centuries more they had also told me, for my assa
ult on holy servants of God,
for destroying his temple, and for using arcane powers to defy Gimmorain judgement.

I remember how insanely I laughed, how I had ripped black lightning strikes through Arabashiel and two of her Gimmorian brothers, and how they had feared me. God had not shared my humor, and turned me over to the Nochtilians after my judgement was final.
That was long ago, when Sodom of the Ember Tower, Sodom the Archmage of Kivanis, and Sodom the Warlock of Night, were all titles and names that mortals feared, and even many immortals. Now, I was nothing, gone from the world, a world that had forgotten me and my age.

“Sodom!” Shukuru roared from his flames on the throne, something had happened, many passing demons whispered
and kept their distance up in the chasms of the mountains of the damned
.

In a flash of black smoke, I was before him, and I knelt.
I had to, the ten trident brands burned on my forearm, forcing me down in pain. One brand for each century of service to Shukuru, the ten skulls on my other arm were for Mowg in the deadlands, centuries I had already fulfilled.

“Hail, firstborn son of God, mighty Shukuru, ruler of---“

“Silence!” His voice was so strong when he yelled that some of my flesh ripped from by bones and blew away into the netherworld. It regrew, slowly, painfully, but the pain was agonizing beyond words. His dark marbled flesh and piercing eyes looked past me, his chiseled face grimaced, and his trident slammed to the ground as chunks of rock fell from the air.

“Rise, brother, and tell me what has caused this.” Shukuru pointed past me, behind me, so I turned my head to look.

There, in a contorting pile of black flames, was a squirming form. I saw wings, Nochtilian wings, and a clawed hand trying to grow out of the sludge.
One of his children, Kashtamias the
knight of Hell, had been slain and sent back to Infiernum. I tried not to smile
, but inside my deepest concealed thoughts, I felt a small measure of joy. For I had seen it, viewing the world in secret with powers I was forbidden from using, and I knew who it was
that had defeated him
.

“My Lord and elder, your son was slain by a sacred blade of Alden, by a cursed elf on the mortal world.” Cancuru knelt behind me.