The Exodus Sagas: Book II - Of Dragons And Crowns (60 page)

While the rolling hills and marshland farmsteads passed by, Shinayne remained wide eyed yet
elsewhere in spirit. Great animosity to the south, an army perhaps was approaching to where they had left; she could sense wickedness and malice in far off thoughts of some in a cluster of confused emotions. Still smaller and waiting to the west were more urges and sensations of danger, auras that the others had no way to feel or sense. Disrupted at times by the flashing angers of the minotaur, the overwhelming peace and serenity of Azenairk, and the nervousness of the human men that escorted them, Shinayne’s elven perceptions sensed nothing at all from Gwenneth. She tried harder, closing her focus on her female wizard friend, still nothing, not even a flicker of emotion. Shinayne now stared at the woman that rode ahead of her in the formation, and her breath stopped for a brief moment. The white wood staff topped with the emerald was glowing faintly, as if it were watching Shinayne from its resting place across the saddle. It was protecting its owner, without her knowledge, and seemed aware of the elf’s ability to sense things and read emotions.

The elven swordswoman rode closer to Gwenneth, struggling with her steed to direct it ahead. “Gwenne, may I ask you something?”

“Of course Shinayne,
what is the trouble?” Gwenne sensed a serious query coming, for the elf rarely asked to ask a question.

“Does that staff that Ansharr gave you speak to you at all?” Shinayne T’Sarrin watched the wizard
’
s weapon from her peripheral vision to see if it showed any sign of knowing it was being discussed.

“No, why would you think such a thing?” Gwenne spoke true, yet felt afraid that Shinayne had perceived the impulses of power and desire that the staff of Imoch had been sending her shortly after she had seen it.
It was not a language per se
, yet it had been trying to assist her and show its powers without Gwenne studying ways to unravel them. The wizard knew that there was a semblance of conscience to the item in question, and now she knew that Shinayne knew of it as well.

“No reason, just a feeling. It is most likely noth
ing, but, be careful please.” t
he elven noble watched the staff strapped behind the wizard, and as she stared the small shimmer of light faded then flashed for an instant. Shinayne nodded to the staff, without anyone knowing, in response to the arcane wink she had just received. “I have heard some of the ancient relics of old arcane masters have a tendency to develop strange quirks when abandoned for many centuries.
I am sure you will thoroughly study all the dimensions and such of the gift you carry, right?”

“Of course Shinayne, you seem concerned. Is there something I should know?” Gwenne bluffed like a true lady of nobility, without a second thought of it.

“No, no Gwenneth. Do not be concerned, I trust your judgement and capabilities, just an odd feelin
g. It is likely nothing.” Shina
yne, too, was accustomed to court and hiding one’s intentions. The horses slowed as the light fall of rain showered the company heading west. The elf looked ahead, seeing the torrential downpour they were heading toward, she decided to wait til another time to talk more about the staff.

“Capitan Norrice.” Shinayne called ahead as the troupe slowed pace and gathered to discuss making camp.

“Yes Lady T’Sarrin?”

“Watch the west, I sense something waiting ahead. I can not tell who or what, but there is a group of beings on our road wi
th intentions less than pure.” s
he pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head as the rainfall strengthened.

“Of course, my lady. Can you sense things like that often? Can all elves do that?” Norrice seemed worried, nervous, and did not care for the rain at all.

“Yes, and no. Not all elves practice that sort of meditation and attunement to the things around them. But I can tell you have another question, and the answer is also, yes.”

“What was my question, how did you…?”

“Is the army of Harlaheim marching on Saint Erinsburg? It was all over your spirit, and yes, I sensed a large group of beings to the south heading north. How many, I cannot tell numbers, only that their intentions are not peaceful or serene.” Shinayne lowered her head, knowing what would come next, knowing this young man acted with his fears and emotions more than common sense and reason.

“We have to leave, if we leave now we can help with the preparations.
Or, in the morning perhaps.” Norrice thought only of his lord and the city he was raised in.
He did not want to return to a smoldering graveyard when he could have been there to warn and prevent it.

“You must do what you feel is right, capitan.” Shinayne bowed her head as the horses and riders kept in line on the muddy road west.

Norrice looked to the men and the companions of the elven noblewoman he was sworn to protect and escort into Willborne. He took a few deep breaths and recalled his oath to Cristoff. “We will see you to the Harlaheim border as ordered, but out of concern for my home, may we hurry?”

“Of course capitan Norrice, you set the pace.” Shineyne felt relieved that his word was stronger than his fear and rashness of mind.

The dark clouds continued their barrage of rain throughout the remainder of the day as the company pushed on across country. No moonlight from either moon shone as dark day faded to darker night without notice. The smell of freshwater wind over the moist marshland farms gave away that Lake Devon was close by.
Four lanterns and a glowing staff held by Gwenne gave sufficient light for the men to lead on into the storming late of night. The restless horses, fearful soldiers, and battering thunderstorms finally broke the desire of any to carry on further. The capitan raised his hand to halt, and without as much as a word or an order, the men began to dismount and set tents near a grove of banyan trees above a rushing stream.

Saberrak walked up to Shinayne with a load of tents and poles across his wide shoulders. “What do you sense elf? Will they see us to the bordertown or leave back to Cristoff?”

The highborne elf looked to the nervous men as they whispered amongst themselves and set camp. “They will follow Cristoff’s orders, yes, but nothing more I feel. Their home is about to be at war, and not an army of mere occupation. What would you do if you were them?”

“You know what I would do, heh! I do not follow orders
, nor do I care to let anyone feel threatened unless I a
m the one giving the threats.” t
he minotaur huffed and snorted as he walked toward the encampment.

“Then we should be grateful as they go against their instincts to see us safely west.” Shinayne dismounted her horse, and tethered it to a nearby branch. Ke
e
ping one eye on the capitan, and one on Gwenne’s staff, she
started to help set up the camp
.

Lavress II:IV

South of Roricdale, Deep South, Chazzrynn

The snow was soft and wet,
disappearing in spots to warn
of the coming spring
season
.
With no trail to follow, the wood elf hunter knew his choices were few, and the territory more than dangerous. Lavress had bandaged his wound
s
f
rom the harpy arrow
s
well and he noticed the
blood was barely seeping through the torn brown cloth from his cloak.
He had thought of heading north, close to the ruins of Arouland, yet the ogre menace there could prove trying with his injury and exhaustion. West would take him into the endless Vateric Ocean, south into the tribal Deep South where no foreigner was safe, leaving the only option for survival in his state being
,
to travel east to Roricdale. From there, Lavress knew that he could find rest and food then head northeast across the rural center of Chazzrynn
to the Temple of the Whitemoon
.
He knew that elves in general were not seen often in Chazzrynn, the cold weather and distance from elven cities ensured that he was a rarity here.

It would be four or five days
after Roricdale
to the T
emple of the Whitemoon that was now guarded by Princess Lanaru-Fin and her priests. Lavress Tilaniun stopped behind a tree, a thawing oak he noted, and listened with his keen elven ears for sounds of his pursuer
. Birds of early spring had begun sending
melodies to one another, the flit of squirrels and
tre
e moles, but of Eliah Shendrynn
he heard
nothing.
The elven hunter thought of Eliah, the highborne traitor and formidable wizard of Kilikala. He tried to concentrate on sensing him, near or far, just something to give him a sense of how far behind his enemy
truly
was and if he had followed throught the ancient portal
yet
.
He had tracked Eliah here across the Agarian continent not long ago. The Gimmorian temple they had fought in was a day behind, and Lavress assumed that the rogue elven thief of
the books of high elven magick
could track him in ways that were only known to those that practice the arts of the arcane. For that reason, the tattood savage of Gualidura had to keep his pace quick. He knew that he was in
no condition to face Eliah
, and that he would be coming for the fourth book. For whatever reason the noble elf had turned against his people, Lavress knew not. All he knew is that his life meant nothing in comparison to the ancient tome in his pack, at least to the wizard who now
surely
hunted him.

Lavress thought of Shinayne as his steps dodged through melted snow patches in the
pine
forest. His noble beloved was certainly alive, for he could feel her hearbeat very faint in his quiet mind. She was far away though, to the north and traveling with some unrest in her spirit. He wished that his path had crossed hers, that his mission from the Hedim Anah had not been so urgent leaving no time for explanation, or that she had simply waited for him in Kilikala. No, his lovely young companion had more stubborn veins in her heart than any elf he had ever been acquainted. Highborne nobility matched with prowess of the sword and a heart full of desire;
it had been many months sinc
e he had seen Shinayne T’Sarrin
and it would be many more he feared. Lavress Tilaniun of Gualidura snapped his eyes back to full focus as his booted foot slid into a rather fresh smudge of snow and mud. He stopped, wiping the thoughts of her away quickly and looked down at his path through the trees of southern Chazzrynn.

“Ogre.” Lavress knelt down to inspect the wide sprawling sets of tracks, hundreds or more. He could tell by the size of the foot and
length of stride between steps
that a large organized mass of ogre had re
cently traveled this very way, from west to east heading the same direction.
Odd
, he thought,
ogre do not travel in numbers like this, ever
. Even in Bloodskull, the largest ogre city, the tribes and clans rarely unite in anything of great size or travel far from home.
But the hunt
er was certain of his survey
and absolute in his resolution that an army of ogre were ahead of him
,
perhaps half a day and heading to Roricdale.

He thought of the invaluable book in his pack, then of
the threat that lay before him,
a threat to the people of Chazzrynn. Lavress followed the tracks and quickened his pace, keeping his vision moving all around in case of stragglers or scouts.

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More tracks, different though, and Lavress went to a knee silently to inspect what appeared like a second group of markings that had come from the north
west
alongside the ogre he followed. Four clawed toes and lighter steps, careful and cautious steps he noticed. The hunter knew they were trolls beyond doubt, maybe a hundred give or take. The drag of mud through the snow showed him that they were skittish and hesitant in their travel, moving back and forth with indecision quite often. They revolved around four heavier trolls moving in unison, four tracks that did not sway or stop and left far deeper imprints in the snow and earth. Being of the same size, however, Lavress knew that they carried something, or someone.
He saw many scratches in trees, serving no purpose save for the wretched beasts to perhaps find their way back
to whatever forsaken swamps they crept out of
in the Hollowmoors to the north
. Lavress began to think not of his wounds or exhaustion, but of what possible purpose ogre and trolls would be traveling together this far into human settled areas, en masse. His feet glided through the snowy underbrush and forest with even greater speed and stealth, fearing the worst.

The sun fell behind the forest smattered hills of southern Chazzrynn, the orange and rose glows to the east emanating through
the
pines and valleys were far too warm a farewell for where the wild elf was heading.
The monst
rous footprints became softer
as he traveled east into the setting sun,
he knew he was getting close
. The hunter drew his bow and nocked an arrow, crouched steps of silence in the shadows of early night left not a sound as he approached a rising hill where he slowed his
movements. Lavress could smell the trolls now, and ogre as well. He smelled blood, sensed fear, and even heard the far off convsering of hisses, grunts, growls and rough speech of wicked beings. Pulling the arrow back tight in the bowstring, the elven warrior crept from pine to willow to oak, keep
ing his form in the shade of
starlit dusk. The top of the hill held two ogre he could see, standing guard with spears
almost twice his height. They looked drowsy, worn from a hard long march from the west and
L
avress watched as they drifted in and out of sleep while leaning against old pines above a
valley. He moved without notice
, stepped without sound, like death from the forest of night he took aim.