The Exodus Sagas: Book I - Of Spiders And Falcons (28 page)

Something had gone wrong and the city might be in jeopardy with relics abound and all this intrigue, Gwenne stewed further that she was stuck holding up hundreds of crystals from wizards that were out in the world. She craved to be involved, to be on the inside of the plans and reactions to such dangers, yet, as always, she found herself taking part of the remedial. Keeping her mind as clear as possible, placing the thoughts well behind her current position a hundred or more feet above the ground, Gwenne concentrated on the relic approaching from the west instead.

“Are we ready?” her mother asked of the students, all now blindfolded with wand in the left hand and staff in the right. All seventeen bowed their heads, spoke the incantation of levitation and rose up and out above the bridge.

Aelaine raised her palms bringing seventeen natural rocks the size of small boulders out of the lake, as they rose above her head she looked to make sure all students were calm and prepared. “Begin!” the rocks hurled at the students with speed that could crush through the stone walls of the towers by a simple gesture from the Lady of Lazlette.

All the students put their staves forward. “
Nev Altus
!” and the boulders stopped in place, inches from their floating bodies, swirling and turning, hovering in the air. The crowd applauded, students of junior classes cheering with howls and whistles. The students waved their wands, the tips glowing red as did the giant rocks, and they spun faster and faster in place. A faint yellow glow came from the blindfolds as the arcane sight and magically invoked vision has a mild side effect, as did many spells that affect the same part of the body in similar manner simultaneously. The students remained hovering, some slipping a few inches below the others, yet the entire class hovered, using two kinds of abnormal vision, the staff halting and holding their boulder and the wand heating and spinning it. “
Commala beresta
!” the wands shot forth from the tip, black and white electric bursts into the reddening stone, causing spark and a twisting compressing sound from the meeting of energy. The burning smoke showering the air with an acrid stench, slowly the spinning stones, chiseled down by magical blasts of arcing force, became spinning stones the size of a fist. The wands lowered and the staves rose above their heads, hoods and sashes rippling in the air above the academy. “
Tresfaynen Hladirem
.” now glowing a variety of blues, reds, greens, purples, and oranges, the stones spun faster and faster, humming and whistling due to inhumanly possible speeds of revolution. Cracking noises blanketed the fascinated cheers of the gathered guests and students below. The crackling pops slowed, sparks ceased to fly from the dizzying blur of stones, stones that now were hardened crystal. “
Feandril Luminil Primonin
” the ever popular spell of infusing permanent light was invoked by all in unison, their wands pointed at their crystals and bright light now would remain forever inside. Hollers of praise, shouts of applaud, and cheers of wonderment from amazed citizens and families of Vallakazz filled the cold air, on midwinter night as bright light from seventeen new stones flashed into existence. The students held their staves loosely, placing the wands in their belts, and removed the blindfolds. The light from their eyes faded, most of them squinting to readjust to normal sight, and each bowing to the professors together, their ceremonial crystals of graduation floating and glowing effortlessly in front of each of the seventeen.

Lady Aelaine Lazlette looked at each student, their crystals, and the professors to her left and right. She received the nods she expected. “Perfect. Would the class of three hundred forty four please etch their names into their graduation crystals?” At that command, the class pointed their fingers at the glowing gems in front of them and recited the arcane name of each letter of their first and last name, or city of birth for those that had no surname. The writing sparked small chips of glowing dust that settled over the crowd and blew on the night snows.

“Would the first in her class care to send the stones to join with the nine hundred sixty one that have come before you?”

Annora D’Narii, the extremely gifted and wise young woman from Evermont in Shanador, floated forward holding out her hand, raising her sky blue crystal above the others with an effortless gesture from her fingertips. “Yes High Wizard Aelaine, I would.” Her fingers clenched tight for a moment, her blonde hair blowing in the breeze as she levitated high, then her hand opened in a flash, sky blue light enveloped her hand and formed a stream to her crystal, guiding it gently into orbit with the hundreds of others still controlled by Gwenneth. The other sixteen followed her lead, and applause issued again, as the students and professors each bowed to one another, and to the crowd below, then levitated back to the bridge. Gwenneth released the orbs into the lake, where they would remain lit until the start of the new class, midspring morning of the upcoming year.

While the usual talks began inside in the warmth of the west tower between visiting family, local lords, the professors, and the graduates, Gwenneth made for the western side of town. Assuming that her mother would seek out Captain Kendrynn, and Middir would be with his strange bodyguard, Angeline looking for the mysterious hunter, Gwenneth would go where the action was not flooded with elders. She ignored attempts of the crowd, now that she touched back down to ground, to ask
her how she did it?, was it difficult?
, and many other queries she smiled and pushed through to get away from the normal folk of Vallakazz. She had heard them all before, and despite her outward false sincerity, Gwenne Lazlette wished nothing more than to have the chance to do something on her own. She felt her opportunity to greet strangers, without guidance or the shadow of her mother over her and take part in something that was her own. Finally, after her whole life lived under the thumb of the Lady of the Academy, Gwenneth was doing what she wanted to do and cared nothing for the repercussions.

Kendari I:IV

Eastern Vallakazz, Chazzrynn

The ring on his finger, three onyx stones set on a gold band, was tingling and sending small vibrations through his left hand. His hand was cold, having removed the leather gauntlet, his pale skin with black circles of veins barely visible in the shadows of the eastern gate tower. Kendari waited, looking to see if the trolls of Salah-Cam were close behind him, or if the old wretch of a wizard had listened to him for once. He had seen the tracks of the satyr and his elven rescuer turn into Vallakazz, yet noticed that they vanished only a hundred feet or so inside the portcullis he had just snuck over. Silent, even more so than ever with the black leather enchanted boots from his employer, the Nadderi elf knew his ring would only conceal him for a few minutes longer. The magicks of the ring needed several hours of inactivity to recharge, yet it had served its purpose so far. If it had not, dozens of wizards would have been waiting at the gate having sensed his various enchanted weapons and treasures and been here to “
greet
” him. Kendari knew that Vallakazz was home to hundreds of arcane teachers and students and although deadly up close, the cursed swordsman had no intention of taking on a wizard of the academy if he could avoid it, let alone several at a ranged skirmish.

City guard approaching him, he saw at least thirty lead by a captain by the looks of his plate armor and ornate engravings upon it. “Broadswords, shields, chainmail, steel open faced helms,
and no wizards
.” Kendari weighed the odds knowing the flank and the neck would be the targets for his deadly blades. Convinced he could not take the lot of them after seeing the dozen archers in the towers on each side of the gate, the cursed elf moved like invisible death through the shadows of outer Vallakazz. The old buildings and homes were solid granite, almost a hint of sparkle from quartz traces in the rock. The roofs all solid wood or stone, and the roads well opened and maintained cobblestone. He noted several escape routes, in case he was noticed by the arcane guard here. Through street after street, on a cold snowing night in Chazzrynn, Kendari saw the beauty of Vallakazz, people milling about, busy streets and warm homes. He had not come here for anything this city had to offer, just for the tomes that Salah-Cam wanted, and to put a slave stealing wood elf of the Hedim Anah into the ground with the satyr. Then a scroll and some more bloodshed crossed his wicked thoughts.

His concealment from the triple onyx ring wearing off soon, Kendari began to feel worry since he had not seen a track or a sign of the two he hunted for inside. The ring stopped its vibrations, alerting him the magic would now fade. Leaping for small roads and alleys, veering away from all the magical lights fixed through the city market area and inns of fine repute, he headed into the inner city toward taller buildings with more cover.

Moving without sound, knowing any moment his presence may be detected by wizards in the city, Kendari ran toward the Temple of Golden Mercy. Its brown marble stone pillars and hedge filled courtyard had plenty of vantage points in which the elf could watch for his prey and he doubted the wizards would be searching this area for magicks or intruders. The cursed swordsman grinned at the feathered cross ahead. “What better place to plan a kill than in the presence of God.” His smile vanished, noticing several men in the shadows he had just left, he had been trailed. Not by the guard nor wizards, these men were trained at moving unseen and quietly. “Assassins or rival hunters,
how delightful
.”

The Nadderi elf moved into the garden yard, full of pillars stretching to the bottoms of the clouds it seemed and drew his blades, Shiver rippling heat in the cold breeze. He backed toward the temple noting its many stories, balconies, and rooftops, and of course the giant thirty foot wide feathered cross of Alden, made entirely of gold that hung above the double doors. Crouching below bushes and behind statues, the cursed one waited. The wait was short as two of the young human men, clad in tight fitting black cloth and leather armor, sabers drawn with daggers held reverse for throat cuts, rushed around the corner of the trimmed decorative hedge. Kendari lunged from behind the statue of Saint Tarumin, his heated blade piercing through the leather protections and flesh of the first Chazzrynn man to charge him. The assassin stifled his scream, turning red in the face, feeling heat and metal through his ribs. He backed up, holding the wound and lunging with his saber in return. Parrying easily, the cursed elf then spun round, raising his stance as he turned and cut across the neck with his reverse held left hand longsword. As the man fell to his knees silently, the second killer sprang over his body in full rush and pressed his quick attacks with the dagger and saber. Kendari backed up deflecting cleanly and accurately. Having this man outmatched, the swordsman let him in close, too close for the long blades he had trained with for centuries.

The human assassin directed his attacks in past the reach of his targets’ edges and went for the kill. First the dagger cut across toward Kendari’s neck and the elf presented his forearm, the bracer blocking the attack like straw against stone. The saber of the man cut down, then turned up toward his upper flank, the other bracer stopping the cut inches away. The man was overextended in reach, his blades stopped short by armguards that should have given to injury, then he felt the two cuts across his belly. Kendari crouched back after his two lightning cross-cuts and pointed Shiver straight armed toward his enemy, not sure if he was falling or continuing a lunge in hopes of victory. The latter proved true, the assassin not giving up easily and before he was aware of the feint of retreat, he impaled himself into a scorching blade. His arms cold and limp as death came, flesh sizzling, the last vision of closing eyes was a pale faced elf, marked from a curse, smiling with the green eyes of the devil himself. “
Not even close
.” Was the last whisper of noise he heard.

Kendari looked through their belongings quickly, searching for a sign or symbol or an order of some sort, knowing he was unveiled and there were more on the way for sure. Frantic almost, he began to strip the armor off one of the deceased men knowing that they had been trained well and therefore either had allegiance to someone, or were very expensive to hire. “
Ahhh damn it all
.” the back shoulder blade, behind the heart of the first hunter, a brand that left a terrible white scar. Puffy, fresh and scabbed at parts, a true branding iron mark the size of Kendari’s open hand, a spider. He stood up, not smiling in the least, looking in disbelief at the downward facing ivory arachnid with eight legs outstretched and branded the dead mans back. “The White Spider. So they want me dead? Give my warm regards to Johnas Valhera then.” The Nadderi elf moved through the courtyard of statues, trees, and hedges, finding shadows under the grand temple alcoves in which to immerse himself. His mind racing, centuries passed since he was in this tight of a position and he noted his back was literally against a wall. More figures in shadows, every direction he looked, he could point them out, the way they moved, the way the looked around but blended in. Across the courtyard in the streets, on rooftops, and coming and going in the blackness of night, there were more than twenty. Kendari knew the White Spider was centralized in Valhirst and that its webs were wide spanning and deep. The most feared organization in Agara, with nests in every kingdom, even ties to the occasional Altestan magistrate that ruled over occupied territories here in the southern continent. From illicit goods, to piracy, to kidnapping, and of course, assassinations on every level of political scheme, the White Spider was sought after by many a killer and criminal. They would be on any mission in great number, and employed other creatures, wizards and poisons. Kendari hoped that he was not the reason they were here. His mind tried to conclude that he must have crossed some territory or stepped in on a job in progress, and that his appearance or reputation was recognized. Most likely to the elf, a few brave members had simply tried to make an example, or carve their name into him for credit with the guild.
Unless
, he thought, Johnas and he were looking for the same things, and in that case the cursed swordsman knew this would be a long night indeed.