The Exodus Sagas: Book III - Of Ghosts And Mountains (24 page)

“Rinicus, you said we had
them
. I assumed we had
them all
.” Displeasure again, like a demon lived inside, the words were so hollow.

“I am no scout in the wilderness, I have---“

“I forgot to mention, I met with Cadius before the match with the two headed ogre.” Chalas smiled.

“I do not care, what does that have to do with---“

The sword lifted up, Chalas did not even look fully to his left. He swung out, severed heads on his belt looking off in death, and a third head felt the edge of his blade. Blood sprayed out the neck of Rinicus, his body falling to the stone, head at the same time, separated. Chalas kicked the body, then the head, over the cliff.

“Now Kaya, traitor to the White Spider, not that I care. I will kill you quickly if you tell me where Saberrak and---“

“I said, we do not know. Are you deaf you ugly focking son of a cow?” Norrice smiled, shaking, intimidated. He raised his sword, placed two hands on the hilt, and charged.

Kaya did not anticipate it, no one did. No one but Chalas Kalaza the brown minotaur gladiator of Unlinn saw through the insult. Norrice swung out from his lunge, a midair leap, his sword coming down straight into the face of the minotaur. All stared at the glorious and fearless charge.

Clang!

“Aaaarrgghhh!, aaarrrgghhh!…ahhh
…”

Norrice felt the blades meet, then his face get grabbed by a huge minotaur hand, and then the pain of steel through his gut and out the back. Something was twisting as everything went black.

Slap, slap, thud, clang

Chalas tore with one hand and turned with his blade, then threw the two pieces of Norrice to the ground, the skull breaking onto the stone when it hit. Blood poured in a small stream down off the cliff. He looked to Kaya T’Vellon.

“I will ask one more time.” Blood splattered, tired, injured, Chalas was beyond patience and rage. Only death and answers were left.

She looked to the masked faces staring and their crossbows aimed, those that once feared her. Then her eyes looked to the still bodies of Rinicus below and Norrice before her, then to Chalas Kalaza. She had no words, nothing but an empty sorrow at life’s end. She smiled, knowing at least she had felt a short glimmer of what her father was,
heroic
. The last three days of rescue and escape for others, against Johnas and his branded killers, had invoked more smiles behind her mask than the last decade of her life. That feeling she would take with her, for no one could have it. They would not have the pleasure.

Kaya backed up a step, sheathed her shortblade, and jumped. The air rushed, her hair whipping around her face, the feeling was exhilarating, terrifying. She smiled. Then it was over.

Chalas looked over the edge, sheathing his blade without cleaning it. He saw the head of Rinicus, the body, both smashed hundreds of feet down on the wicked rocks. He saw Kaya T’Vellon, arms spread out, legs twisted, broken body unmoving the same, far below. He turned to the men.

“I am your Domenarch, as Cadius has likely already informed you in secret. You listen to me now, and me alone. Back to Devonmir. And kill these Devonmir soldiers, they have seen too much.” The brown gladiator had too many disappointments, too much anger unspent, and too many injuries to carry on further. He knew, however, he had a gray minotaur to find, and a match to finish.

Deep in the bluffs of eastern Harlaheim, the crossbows rained into Devonmir men. Throats were slit, bodies were tossed over the edge, and Chalas Kalaza stewed every step back to the arenas. For him, it was not over. It had just begun.

Shinayne III:I

Deadman’s Pass, Misathi Mountains

The white moon, half full in ivory radiance, slowly fell to the north as the sliver of larger green, Gimmor, followed behind. Pinks and oranges touched the western sky, showing the mountains for the first time at dawn. Cold breezes began to dwindle, patches of fog lay quiet in the valleys of the pass below, and the barren lands of the Misathi were still. Shinayne stood, on the ridge among many in every direction, and closed her eyes.

She felt her friends, fast asleep, safe for now. Nothing, not a bird nor animal nor enemy, stirred within eyesight. Her vision widened, elven vision from within, and she felt the heartbeats and breaths of those in the camp in the valley. James was troubled and tired. Gwenneth at peace, yet her staff was never resting in its own small enchanted mind. Saberrak was pretending to sleep, she could tell by his mind and thoughts on Annar, his life, and this journey. He struggled with focus, anger, his family somewhere, and visions of Chalas Kalaza. Azenairk was restless in his dreams, searching alone for his father, for the mines, and hunted as he went every wrong way. Birds. Dalliunn Cloudwatcher, if that would be his name in Agarian, dreamt of birds dropping feathers that he would catch and put in his hair. Just birds.

The highborne elf smiled, concentrating on banishing dark dreams and thoughts from the minds of her friends. She imagined light shining upon their troubles, Siril guiding them to freedom from their worry, and tried to send them positive emotion to replace the shadows over them. Shinayne knew it was a far advanced meditation and prayer that her race could achieve after many centuries, yet she felt as to try, so she did.

Carice
slid from its scabbard with her right,
Elicras
, the shortsword to match, in her left. Her breathing slowed as to barely be seen as one constant rhythm, as she was taught in the Junael forests, many years ago. Her soft boots were as one with her feet, legs, and whole body as she stepped forward along the ridge of the Misathi with eyes shut. Not a sound, not a flinch, just a silent dance as blades slashed in harmony with her being. Her form was perfect, left to right, twisting, turning, the air moving with her and around her as she placed one foot in front of the other and cut at imaginary foes. Then she stopped, arms on guard, her stance rested, face to the rising sun. She hummed ever so faint, hearing the song of her blades in return, deep in Simnorri trance.

Her feelings and senses grew, she heard and felt it all. The men, wicked and fearful behind them, they had stopped at the totems at the entrance to the pass. The skulls were watching them, they had spirits of malcontent encircling them, hundreds she saw. Some of the dark forms were leaving, passing high in the sky to somewhere south in the mountains, as if sending messages back and forth. A few passed overhead, inspecting from their dead realm, she and her companions, and then carrying on. Shinayne saw their black forms speak and whisper to one another, yet in a tongue she could not place. They seemed and sounded angry, disturbed, hateful even. Yet, they touched not nor made contact with anything or anyone, simply traveled back and forth, circling their pursuers more than her friends. Watching, always returning to the skulled poles.

Stretching out, curious as to the destination of these dark spectres, the elven swordswoman looked further, deeper, and farther all around her. Hidden tunnels in the mountains, figures she could feel but not see into the stone mountainside. Men dismounting horses, many armed men to the south beginning a climb into the Misathi. They were fearful of the sky, something there, high above. A dragon.

As much as she wished to reach her love to Lavress Tilaniun, wherever he may be, Shinayne T’Sarrin stopped her meditation as soon as she realized that the men were being driven to find
them,
and the force behind those orders was a dragon who was but a day south in the same mountains. She had felt revenge, fire, and a dominating force of evil from the winged beast, and those that rode her. She sheathed her sacred elven blades, and ran down the ridge into the valley pass.

“Up, awake, on your feet.” She tapped and shoved each of her comapnions, even the lewirja guide who hissed at her, still half asleep.

“What is it Shinayne, I was having a good dream about…
you
…actually…odd.” Gwenneth stood, dusting off her robes and looking around for the staff of Imoch, her staff, never too far away.

“Up everyone, up, on your feet.”

“Damn it elf, you never let us relax in the mornings, always something. I was having a dream too, hunting, you were there, it was a deer and---“Saberrak stopped, wondering why they both had dreamt of the elf, he and Gwenne.

“It worked then, wonderful. I even impress myself at times. Yet, we have foul spirits, soldiers from the south, the east, and even a dragon stalking us today. Seems we shall be busy indeed, no time, let’s go.” Shinayne packed her things quickly, then rushed over to Dalliunn Cloudwatcher.

“We need to go…ummm…fast…through the pass, valley, you know what I mean. And we will need to…ahhhh….hide.” Her hand gestures went from fast fingers, to a pointed hand into the pass, then to crawling those fingers into a hole made by her other hand.

“
Rilllian ribbbias, ahk ahk, ulllierrri! Ahk, ahk!”
The lewirja stood on all four paws, nodding and talking very fast. It had no idea what this elf said, nor what the fingers meant, but she seemed worried. He sniffed the air, smelled humans from the place of the setting sun, he knew she wanted to leave. He told her that he would let the clouds guide him, but he did not think she understood him either.

“Did he understand you Shinayne?” Saberrak hoisted his greataxe, then the other enchanted one, choosing to keep them out, just in case.

“I do not know, I think so.”

“So we are going to follow him again, into this place further, and we do not know if he understood us?” James was finishing putting his tabard and blue sash over his chainmail and strapping on his broadsword all at the same time.

“Looks that way, don’t it? Ha, this is getting’ more fun by the day I tell ya’.” Zen put his blessed dragonhelm, pounded his breastplate and tugged, all was as it should be. He hefted his warhammer over his shoulder and checked his pouch for the box with the deed, dust, and key. It was there still.

“Fun? Trapsing through a bone littered valley pass, being hunted and stalked, and the elf having her delusions, I mean
visions
, again? No, this is not what I would regard as,
fun
.” Gwenneth concentrated after stating her opinions, and lifted a foot off the ground, startling the lewirja. She tried not to laugh as he looked to her feet, the ground, then to her feet and quickly touched the air between, amazed at the flying woman.

“Those delusions you speak of, I recall them warning us of a hundred or more salisan lizardmen hunting us on Soujan Mountain.” Shinayne ran ahead, Saberrak with her, heading west as Dalliunn passed them. His four legs were far faster than any of them, yet he paused from time to time to let them catch up.

“Indeed, indeed. I wish they were wrong more often, in truth.”

“Be glad they are not, this dragon is wicked and four times the size of the two we killed, larger than Ansharr.” Shinayne heard the sound of running through mountain valley, bones crunching beneath, and the huffing breaths of her comapnions in the early morning hours. She heard the silence as well, and hoped that what she had seen did not find them.

Half the day passed, Saberrak never leaving her side. There was a rhythm to his breathing and hers, to their steps, even to the way they scouted and searched as they traveled. Besides her training in Kilikala, and a bit of travel with Lavress, Shinayne had never felt as akin to anyone out in the open wilderness as the gray minotaur. Something about his demeanor, his senses, perhaps his constant prowress in battle that mirrored her own thoughts, she was not sure. Yet, having him run alongside her, ahead of the rest, calmed her and set her mind at ease and peace with the world and the dangers it held. The bond was undeniable, strange as it was, and would seem so to anyone who was to know. Yet, a lady must have her secrets, so no one would.

Dalliunn Cloudwatcher had been missing for nearly an hour, then appeared, bludgeoned goat over his back as he padded toward the rest. He threw it down, then some dark brown roots, then some prickly worms from his hand. “
Shim, shim, julli jumma.”

“I believe we are going to eat, let us do so in the shade, however.” Shinayne pointed to a curling outcropping under a cliff, where the sun could not invade. The hairy lion-man trotted over, understanding the coming heat all too well.

“First, I will not eat that. Second, are you sure he does not understand you, seems he does, or is it just me?” Gwenne Lazlette flicked her long black locks over her dark blue traveling robes, then lifted her hair off her smoldering neck as she settled to the ground.

“Do not be rude, Gwenneth, it may be an insult to his culture or something. I think you could use some mountaingoat with spiny worm and root sauce, might do you well.” James laughed, pulling his waterskin from his side and walking toward the shade.

“I simply have a way with beasts is all, right Saberrak?” Shinayne snickered.

“Careful elf, careful.” Saberrak helped the lewirja place the dead wood and bones into a small bundle, then watched as the savage lion-man began rubbing a stick to a piece of stone with sparkling bits in it. Within seconds, a spark, then a smolder, and a flame was flickering and growing.

“I am impressed Dalliunn Cloudwatcher. I learned that from me father when I was little, took me two hours and much huffin’ and puffin’. That was quick.” Zen patted the beast on the shoulder and received a lick on the face for it.

“Great, it can make fire. It also pisses on every tenth stone it passes, and covered a small hole with rocks after it shat this morning. I am still not eating that goat, no matter how many worms or plants he pastes on it. Tell it to wash its hands first, for your own sakes.” Gwenneth sat down, chewing on some week old dried salted pork from Devonmir. Her face soured, and she threw it into the sunlit valley. A crow was on it by third bounce, and it took off into the air.