The Exodus Sagas: Book III - Of Ghosts And Mountains (47 page)

“What is your name then, since you can talk.”

“Kaya…my…lord?”

“Kaya then. I am Lord Cristoff Bradswellen the Third. Well, I was. Now, well, I will not bore you with details. You are in good care, be certain of that. You are lucky to be alive, and even moreso that father Garret found you.” Cristoff went to leave, hoping someone more skilled was available to watch over this crippled woman.

“Details…please…my…lord.” Kaya eked the words out so soft she thought they might not reach his ears.

He stopped in the flap of the tent, looking outside to Azarris Manor and the surrounding tents and lands his people had stayed upon the last few nights. Cristoff sat back down, pulling his chair closer to Kaya, trying not to stare at her broken face and body. It was now mostly purple, a little green, and still swollen in most places.

“Very well, I suppose you have earned a good story then. Where do I begin?”

“The…beginning.” Kaya smiled, though it hurt, it was her only way to show humor laying on her back, arms and legs wrapped up tight, covered in white cloth head to toes.

“I can start there, very funny indeed. I was the lord of Saint Erinsburg until not too long ago, passed down from generation to generation. I am the third of my name, and like my forefathers, I have defended my city and lands, and the kingdom of Harlaheim, against every enemy. I only retreated once, and I returned three nights later and defeated that army. I was young then, not like now.”

“You…are…not…old.”

“No, I suppose not, thank you. Anyway, the king we have now, has been dealing, killing, destroying the name of our country, and running it into the ground without a care. Talks of revolt whispered, my cousins acted upon it, and they died for it.”

“I…am…sorry.”

“That is the risk, they knew it, I knew it. My wife and children left years ago, wanting to live with her family in Caberra, in peace, away from politics. So, alone, I have ruled and watched my kingdom fall from poor king to worse, and done little. Then, I met some folk, on my cousins’ honor I had agreed to take them somewhere, and it all changed. My whole life, my outlook, my thoughts, and I realized how much time I had wasted in not searching for something better. I rooted myself in Bradswellen Castle, therefore my people as well, all awaiting the next war or tragedy.”

“And…these…people…changed…you?”

“No, not truly. We had a moment, where we heard God speak, and it was the first time for me. Years in the church, not once did I hear words to my prayers. Then we had a few battles, and these folk helped me win back my castle from the kings’ armies. I heard God tell me to follow them, but I did not. Then, my dead cousin’s wife came to me, with child, yet married to our most wicked king.”

“The…lady…is…a…queen?”

“Yes, she was the Queen of Harlaheim. Arranged marriage you see, from her father, the king of Caberra and our current king, Richmond the Second, well his father actually planned it when the children were young. That is why she wed my cousin, Savanno, she did not know her father would truly make her go through with it. But he did, and she kept it secret. And, it nearly killed them all and brought down the entire kingdom. I knew of course, but I kept it secret as well.”

“Why?…did…you…love…him…that…much?”

“Yes, but despised him the same, my cousin. Lord Knight Errant of the kingdom, and of the Order of Saint Tarumin. I loved him, because he was better than me, more bold, I admired him above all others. And, he married my first love, she chose him back when we were young. I carried that resentment until the day he sent a knight to find me and beg for help, and I buried those feelings and went to his rescue. It was too late, he went for her in the city, and he was killed. Now, she is in exile with me. I am sure the church and Harlaheim would see us dead, so we travel west, to a new beginning.”

Kaya saw his tears, not falling yet, but they were there. She cried too, though with all her perspiring, no one would know.

“Sad…I am…sorry…my…lord.” Her eyes were closing, back off to sleep.

“Don’t be. Everything happens for a reason. I just spent most of my life not listening to it. Now, I follow the heroics of those that have saved me, inspired me, and carry an honor and valor I always wished to serve. They are the most unusual company I must say. But, Mooncrest and the mines of Kakisteele sound better than burned alive in Saint Erinsburg or waiting for the guillotine.”

“Did…you…say…Kakisteele?” Her eyes opened just a bit, hearing a familiar word.

“Yes, why? You have heard of it?”

“Yes…yes…I have.” She tried to smile but had no energy left.

“I hope you do not mind the trip then, for that is where we are headed, Kaya.” Cristoff watched her drift off once more.

“Sounds…good…to…me…very….good…”

Lavress III:III

Southwind Keep, Chazzrynn

Rain poured from a vicious summer storm, the night was interrupted by thunder and lightning constantly, and the air inside the keep was humid with so many packed inside. Wolves howled to one another in the brief intermissions, letting each other know of the bountiful food the battle had left around Elcram and Southwind Keep.

Inside, the scenery was no more pleasant. The dead and dying lay covered in tents in the courtyards, the screams of saws and medicinal tools echoed from the cathedral, and victorious soldiers kept vigil beneath a king that lay dying upstairs. It was somber, quiet, and sticky with blood and rain in the air, mud and steel on the ground. It had been hours since anyone had come to give them word, piece of mind good or otherwise, on the status of King Mikhail. The arguing, even through stone walls, was evident to all.

“I told you, Lord T’Vellon, I am the spiritual guide of Southwind not some miracle worker!” Chancellor Marcus Mederris was covered in blood, his own, ogre, other men, that of his king.

“Chancellor, church, Alden, God’s man, whatever you call it. Just do something!” Alexei had seen enough. The king was resting, barely, yet not doing well. He noticed his pale face, a gray look around his eyes, he had seen death come before to others. This looked like none other.

“Get him to Vallakazz, dammit! I have priests there at the Temple of Golden Mercy, they can work miracles of healing, I assure you.” Aelaine Lazlette was in tears. She had watched two bowls full of bloody wooden splinters be removed from Mikhail’s chest. The blood was dark, thick, and now slow moving.

“Vallakazz is five days by carriage, and the king cannot ride! He will not make it three, especially in this weather!” Marcus yelled. He breathed deep, small knife in one hand, tweesers in the other, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and began to remove the last few pieces of splintered wood.

“Calm yourselves, calm. I know a place, two days from here. If I get permission, there are those there that can heal this to as much as a scratch in minutes.” Lavress Tilaniun, the only elf here, spoke his mind. He knew the Temple of the Whitemoon could work wonders beyond human capability, but humans were not allowed there. He patted Liogan Andellis on the shoulder, letting him know he was doing well in assisting the Chancellor.

“Not a chance, savage.” Alexei bolted back with a look from those slate blue eyes that warned not to mention it again.

“Lord T’vellon, is that how you treat visitors and heroes? Without him, your keep may be in ruins.” Lady Aelaine bit back.

“I will take savage as a compliment. Nonetheless, he will die most likely. The wound has been open too long, the mud and wood will infect his blood and body, and he will not be here if you continue what you are doing now. He needs fey healing, so you have a choice.” Lavress looked to the king of Chazzzrynn, then to Marcus.

“You have to return that book there, do you not? Surely this is to handle your own matters, not save our king.” Marcus paused, pointing a bloody knife, then resumed.

“I can leave to the Temple of the Whitemoon at any time, I am offering help to save him. Unless Lord Alexei is to order my arrest, again.”

“You had him arrested?” Aelaine was shocked.

“You have your city, and I have mine! Yours does not have the threats mine does, so we handle things different here, Lazlette.”

“You…you’re the elf that Middir and I spoke about to Lavalandara, the Arcane Magistrate of Kilikala, you are the hunter from the courts of the Whitemoon. You have the fourth stolen tome then?” Aelaine remembered, she had seen him before from afar in her crystal, before her daughter Gwenneth had left.

“At your service, Lady of Lazlette. And yes, I have the fourth book. And yes, I know Lavalandara very well.” Lavress bowed a little, then gave his greeting of the Goddess from heart to lips to forehead.

“I would trust him, I know of who he serves. Please Marcus, Alexei, let us take him to the sacred temple, let Lavress lead us, let us save our king.” Aelaine pleaded.

“Not a chance, Lazlette. Moving him would likely kill him. I will not let him become another victim of the ogre like my father, we will save him here, in Southwind.” Alexei T’vellon was stone, immovable, focused yet all in a daze.

“Your father was once my husband, it would do you well to act a bit more like him!”

“I am truly sorry to disappoint, I did not grow up with such privilege as you and your daughter. I have what I learned from him before the ogre butchered him. If you do not like it, you know the way back to precious Vallakazz.”

“Are you going to just let this boy allow the king to die, Marcus? He is what, twenty five or so?”

“Lord T’vellon has command, my lady, I must obey. Liogan Andellis, a little quicker with the towels boy.” Marcus kept working the last of the splinters out.

“Yes Chancellor Mederris.”

“
I believe…I have a say…and command…do I not?”
Mikhail blinked his eyes, spoke soft, a rasp of a voice remaining.

Everyone hit a knee and bowed their heads, all save Liogan who was holding the towel over the wound.

“Your majesty, what is thine command.” Lord T’vellon did not blink, just stared, awaiting an order like a true soldier.

“
Take…me…to…the…temple of the…Whitemoon…send word…to my…only heir…my…son…Bryant…stop the siege…on Valhirst…bring my…crown…and sword. My army..is..ordered…to…stay…here…under…your…command…Lord…T’Vellon.”
His eyes closed.

“Yes, your highness.” Alexei stared at Lavress.

“We will need a carriage, our fastest horses and men, and supplies for two days. Liogan Andellis, I need it done in ten minutes. Understood?” Marcus was packing his tools as fast as he could.

“Understood Chancellor!” Liogan ran for the stairs, a mass of soldiers and knights in his way.

Alexei walked up to Lavress, smiling, hand on the hilt of his blade. He leaned close. “
If this fails, and he dies, I will spend my days and nights to find you. When I do, your head will rot on a pole. Are we clear?”

“
I am glad we had this chat, Lord T’vellon. I go to save your king, do not ever threaten me again. Are we clear?”
Lavress put his hands to the handles of his weapons, and smiled.

“We understand each other well then, good luck.”

“Likewise.” Lavress turned his back, without bow or salute, and followed the troupe with the king into the yards.

Men, many men, came to the room now that it was empty, seeking guidance on what to do, silently awaiting the words of Lord T’Vellon. They could tell by his demeanor, not to speak until spoken to.

“General Fandruss, organize the men and get them down for the night. Tomorrow, rain or no, will be a long one indeed. We need to rebuild the defenses, bury the dead, and plan our counterattack. Captain Shilde, send messengers to Loucas, Hurne, Roricdale, Vallakazz, and Addisonia, tell them we need reinforcements to Southwind. And someone get me a fast rider that can make it to Valhirst to stop the heir Prince’s siege. Now!” Alexei T’Vellon tried not to think of his dying king, the elf or Aelaine, only the instincts of war and survival, duty and command surfaced. Salutes and affirmations to his orders were all he cared to hear, and were all he received.

The soldiers carried the stretcher, covering it with the Chazzrynn flag, as whispers and prayers wailed silently in Southwind. The horses were ready, supplies loaded, and King Mikhail was placed in a covered royal wagon. Fifty men awaited orders, but none knew who was in charge. The king moaned as it moved, the rolling wheels sloshing in rain and mud, and nervous stallions followed a running elven hunter out the eastern gates of Southwind. Chancellor Marcus, Lady Aelaine Lazlette, and Liogan Andellis watched as all eyes fell from view in the storm of night, all with glimmering hopes and confusion, all behind them now as the gate closed.

A lone rider, drenched and leaning into his saddle, nearly asleep, passed Lavress on his way into Southwind.

“Rider, Chazzrynian, wake up.” The hunter of the Hedim Anah shook his leg and grabbed the reins of his worn brown steed. Half drunk, the rider went for his blade as he awoke. Lavress put his hand over the hilt and looked up at him.

“I am with the men of Southwind, with the king, are you hurt?”

“No, no, sorry. I am Kerri, messenger from the first brigade under Prince Johnas, I rode from Vallakazz on orders from the current captain, by the name of Vermillion, my lord.” He fumbled through leather packs and found a well covered cloth wrapped metal scroll case, green silk and fine embroidery upon it. He handed it to Lavress, just as Aelaine Lazlette rode up beside him. Fifty men ahorse in guard formation, the Chacellor and Liogan in the carriage, Kerri surmised with the royal flags and all, this was his destination, albeit a few hundred feet before the gates.