The Exodus Sagas: Book III - Of Ghosts And Mountains (35 page)

“I am going insane. She is dead, Nareene is dead, the holy blade did its work in Saint Erinsburg.” He talked aloud, calming his nerves and suspicions.

Then why can you hear me…Kendari the traitor…

“Lapdog of Cancuru, show yourself so I may pleasure your body with my blade again.” Kendari waded into the rain, into the middle of the main road of Tillis, swords drawn and steam sizzling from
Shiver
in the dark.

“As you wish, my cursed and marked beloved.”

Footsteps on old wooden planking, she came from the inn. Kendari turned, it was not her. A young Kivanite girl of ten perhaps, sashes, a vest, three skirts and bracelets up and down her arms turned toward him. Her hair was loose and messy to her shoulders, eyes of the night staring at him as he watched from the center of town, blades out, in the rain.

“You are not Nareene. Go inside girl.”

“This one, yes. He seeks to kill us all before he goes to Stillwood to die. He is dangerous and carries a plague, he should die.” The little girl winked at him, then pointed as seven men followed her out to the porch of the Night n’ Gale.

The voice was not her own, older, without the questioning thick accent of Kivanis. It was Nareene speaking, he knew it, then she winked again and her eyes flashed red. The men all reached for weapons hidden in dark brown robes. Kendari rushed in quick steps and lunged up the two stairs to the wooden entrance. Shiver dove deep into the girl’s chest, then a backheld slash of the crossblade took off her head.

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Knock, knock, knock!

Kendari heard it, knocking at the door, he opened his eyes wide, then shut them fast as the light of morning streaming in through the curtained window nearly blinded him. Squinting, he looked around. A room, a mess of wood furniture cut apart, some still smoldering from his searing blade. The blade, which was in his hand in a deathgrip, the other was held reverse in his left. His armor of black chain, necklace of arcane origin, rings of enchanted natures, and bracers of unbreakable magicked steel lay on the floor. His boots of silent fey tricks were on, one of them anyway, the other on the bed. His clothes of black and hooded cloak, still full of burns and slashes, were crumpled into a pillow.

Knock, knock, knock!

“One moment!”

“I have your morning meal sir, all packed to go, just like you requested.” The voice of the young girl was skittery, nervous outside the door.

“Is everything allright, friend? It is a bit noisy there, are you well my cloaked traveler?”

A man’s voice, very familiar. The girl’s too, he knew he had heard them before. “
Foroza
?”

“Yes, yes, you remember me my strange friend! Is everything well in your room then?”

“A bit of repair will be in order I am afraid.” Kendari got dressed quickly, not feeling he had slept much at all, his muscles tight. He looked to a nightstand, the mattress, a dresser, and a small chest that were all cut and destroyed from his swords. He remembered none of it. Scabbards in place, blades sheathed, jewelry in the right places, and his other boot pulled high, Kendari opened the door.

“My, you did have a rough night of it then, my friend.” Foroza gasped a bit, as did the young girl of ten or so years. The Nadderi stood still, hood draped low over his face, yet the girl stared up at him.

“How much?” Kendari waved his hand at the wreakage of the room.

“Five gold, friend. Five should do fine.” Foroza seemed nervous, not wanting any trouble from this stranger who tore the room apart so, not with his daughter here anyway.

“Of course five, I should have known that.”

“What was that, my friend? I do not underst---“

“Nothing, nevermind.” Kendari smiled from under his cowl, and handed five gold coins to Foroza.

“Thank you, strange one. Nareene, hand him his food now.”

Kendari froze, his fingers fidgeting to reach for his blades. He looked to the girl holding up a wrapped white cloth of breads and cooked lamb sausage and cheeses. She stared with her dark eyes into his, her messy hair and skirts all as he remembered.

“What is it, friend?” Foroza put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder.

“Did you say,
Nareene
?”

“Yes, my daughter’s name, why?”

“Where would she get a name like that here in Kivanis? It is not a Kivanite name.” He was close, near the moment he would pull steel and kill quickly.

“True, you are well traveled then. My wife’s parents came from the islands to the far west, from the city-states of Yallah, Garoug, and Bamorah. There, it is a fairly common name among---“

“---among the priestesses and clergy of Vasentanessa.” Kendari relaxed, finishing the man’s sentence for him, blinking a moment. He accepted the breakfast.

“Indeed, she was named for her grandmother who was in fact, a high priestess in Garoug before she passed.” Foroza relaxed, as did his daughter, seeing their guest calm a bit with his strange behavior.

“
He has green eyes, like the grass father. But his face is scarred or painted, he should see a priest, he looks sick.”
Little Nareene spoke in whispers to her father, assuming Kendari could not hear her.

“
Ssshhh
! I am truly sorry friend, the mouths of children. Nareene,
those that are decorated so are blessed. To insult them would be to bring bad luck to the harvest and our people.
Now, apologize.” Foroza pointed his finger to little Nareene.

“I am sorry for your painted face, I don’t want bad luck please. I didn’t really mean to say that.”

“
Ssshhh, ssshhh! No, not like that
, ahhh, one moment please, friend.”

“I hate Kivanis.” Kendari walked past the two in discussion. Down the stairs past a group of men who sat drinking and eating. They all stopped and stared as he walked out the doors into Tillis.

“One, three, six, seven. Of course there were seven men there. I truly hate this kingdom.” Kendari spoke aloud, reminding himself he was not in his recent nightmare, yet much was the same. He turned, shielding his eyes more than the hood already did, and looked to the inn he had just left, morning haze lighting the outside.

“Night n’ Gale Inn and Taverne. Of course, of course. I am going insane, truly.” He walked north, heading out of Tillis at a brisk step.

It took only minutes, and the small town was behind him. Wet marshland glistened in the morning moisture, low fogs stood still, then a gust of breeze would scatter them to the next farmstead. The two jagged stones were still there on the east side of the road. He knew it was the road to Stillwood, yet it looked completely overgrown and unkept. Regardless, he knew that was the way to where he needed to go. Kendari stopped at a cluster of northern palm trees across from his hidden trail, sat down and opened his bundle of food. Five bites into some bread and cheese, and he heard it. People running, fast footsteps his way, then another bite of cheese. The seven men surrounded him at his little oasis, he let them and took a bite of bread, saving the lamb sausage for later. They drew daggers, sabers, scimitars, machetes, knives and all manner of blade. He looked up, measuring the men all ranging from twenty to fifty, all the Kivanite men from the inn, Foroza and his little Nareene behind them pointing fingers.

“There, him, he said he hated me and my daughter! He is a cursed one, she saw it. He must die or his curse will remain on Tillis!” Foroza was not smiling.

“I said I hated
Kivanis
.”

“The same! See, he walks our lands spreading evil, I felt it when he came last night, and now he leaves broken wood in my home and business, a sign of his passing and his curse. It is known, he is marked with his dark gods vengeance!” Foroza was shaken, drunk on superstitions and fear.

“Let us see your face, stranger!” One of the men with a blade demanded.

Kendari stood, the men silent, and he flicked his neck revealing his pointed ears, black hair tied back to show his swirled and marked black over his pale face. He glared at Foroza with his deep green gaze, smiling. “Satisfied?”

“He is a demon father, a monster. Make him go away.” Little Nareene pointed, tears in her eyes.

“I did go away, you followed me here. Now leave---“

The sunlight gave him away, a glimmer of turning steel caught Kendari’s eye, from behind him the men rushed with blades. A moment before two men plunged their daggers into his back,
Shiver
pulled loose and arced with his turning feet, disarming both weapons. The second longsword, with a small step in the turn, cut across two chests and left the men split wide open and dying on the road.

“I am warning you, leave---“

The remaining five charged him from all sides, sabers and knives brandished and leading with furious strokes. Foroza watched a seared and severed hand fly through the air holding a dagger, then a man fell holding his bleeding throat. The sound of steel ringing was so rapid he could not tell who was doing what to whom. A saber flung end over end and stuck into a tree, Foroza ducked it at the last moment. Two more men dropped to a knee, legs singed through smoldering robes, then their screams stopped as their heads tumbled from their shoulders, crimson spouts dancing in the air.

The innkeeper backed up, holding his daughter’s shoulders. The points of two longblades shot through out the back of another guest of his from this morning, then he fell dead. The last Kivanite standing turned and ran, then suddenly slowed holding his insides with one hand as they tried to loose onto the ground, he leaned against a tree as he groaned. A curved shamshir flew end over end, diving through his back and impaling him into the tree, his head dropped against the trunk staring down, dead.

Foroza looked to this cursed elf, standing over six dead men in a mess of blood and bodies. It had been but less than ten seconds, he had not breathed since it began, and still did not need his breath. Then he looked, his body shaking, to the seventh man stuck to the tree, hoping he would move. He did not. “
Please,
please
friend
, do not kill us. We, please, we misunderstood
is all
.”

“I am often misunderstood, that is indeed true.” Kendari walked forward, sheathing the crossblade of Cristoff after wiping it across his cloak. He smiled, lowering
Shiver
to do the same, then plunged it into Foroza’s chest. The popping and sizzling of cloth and flesh lasted a moment or two, then he released the blade and sheathed it before the corpse hit the ground behind the little girl.

“Now,
little Nareene
, take all the gold and silver these men have in their robes. Take a dagger or two, and here, ten gold coins from me. That is double what I paid your father this morning.” Kendari smiled, wiping the blood from his face. He watched the girl, shaking, trembling, likely in shock she was. She did as she was told, and turned, blank faced to this marked swordsman. She said nothing.

“You have until the count of ten. If I see you, or any of your village when I open my eyes, I will kill everyone, including you. Do you under---“

She ran, faster than she had ever run before. Then she screamed so loud the whole of the kingdom would likely awaken. She kept running, back to Tillis, screaming all the way.

Kendari picked up his food, then threw it back to the ground as it was covered in blood. He listened for a few moments to the shrieks of the little girl named the same as the demon that haunted and owned his elven soul. He smiled to himself, “I should have said if I
hear you
or see you. I have no way with children, that is a fact.”

He turned to the bodies. “I hate Kivanis, and I hate Kivanites. All of you, every last bloody, dead, inbred one of you.” Kendari pulled the saber from the tree, releasing the held body that annoyed him. He walked across the road to the jagged rocks, in between them, remembering the trail to Stillwood from many centuries past. He watched the shadows of the trees, the fog, and kept his eyes open all around in the land that was haunted with old curses, much like him.

Lavress III:II

Southwind Keep, Chazzrynn

Commotion, slamming doors and pounding of stone, Lavress had heard it for hours now. The yelling of orders was nonstop, yet he could make out little from his cell. His window revealed nothing when he jumped and held on to the bars to see outside. It was midday, the sun threw no shadow to the grasses outside. He tied his hair back with his bone clasps and feathered straps. His enchanted falcata from the Hedim Anah was polished, wolves chasing each other down the guard and hilt that were one piece, forward curved edges sharp. His curved kukri dagger was in his other hand, the magicked steel felt weightless. His bow, the bow Bedesh the satyr had used, was tight across his back all he needed was the hide quiver. Tan leathers, brown tattoos of leaves and moons, his topaz eyes stared at the door to his room in Southwind, knowing any moment it would begin. Lavress Tilaniun was ready.

He waited, hearing groans from true prisoners from other rooms, as lunch was over an hour late. The door at the end of the hall opened, soldiers and knights of Southwind rushing in. Lavress could smell the blood and the sweat. They laid a young boy down, his white tabard with the feathered cross in red was stained from the bleeding wound on his head. They yelled at one another, indecipherable in the desperate moment. The injured one looked to Lavress from the stone floor, blood running now across his face as they put pressure with cloths to the wound. Lavress stared, then saw the cloth lift revealing a broken spear, the tip buried into his skull. The boy stopped moving, eyes open, not breathing. The older knight with the falcon crests on his plates and shield hung his head low, then stood and charged back out, his men following, leaving the dead soldier behind. Lavress reached his arm out from the bars, and closed the eyes of the boy that had died.