The Exodus Sagas: Book III - Of Ghosts And Mountains (48 page)

“Here, this is likely not for me.” Lavress handed it up to Aelaine.

The Lady of Lazlette concentrated for a moment, an invisible barrier of force came into being over her head, covering all at the forefront from the rain. She opened the scroll tube, removed it. It had the royal seal of Prince Johnas Valhera upon the wax. She broke it, unrolled it, and read. She tipped the tube up and a golden ring with a sapphires and falcon engravings fell out, finger attached. Her head raised a few moments later, most somber, she took a deep breath and bowed to the messenger signaling him that he may carry on to Southwind. She put the decomposing ringed finger back in the scroll case, trying to maintain her composure.

“Thank you, my lady.” The rider headed west to the gates.

“What does it say?” Lavress looked up to Aelaine.

“Here. This stays between you and I, swear it.”

“As you wish.” Lavress took the scroll under the cover of magicks from the Lady of Vallakazz.

Dearest Uncle Mikhail Salganat,

If you have received this scroll it means only one thing, that your siege has failed. I am not in Chazzrynn at the moment, I assure you, but I am well aware of your plans, and the plans of your son, to oust men from my throne in Valhirst. I had hoped it would never come to this, but it has, so I must do what any Valhera would. Your attacks upon me, my city, and my people are unwarranted and unjust. I have dealt with the insanity of your rule long enough. I must assume, upon your passing, your son will rule in similar fashion to the detriment of the kingdom. You are no longer my king, I declare open war upon you and your crown. Be it known that I have your only remaining heir, precious young Prince Bryant, I have sent a small token of his as you will see. If you wish to see him alive, meet me in Valhirst, disavow him and yourself from rule, and declare me the sovereign of Chazzrynn. If you do not arrive within two weeks time, I will hang your son from the walls of my city as I would any prisoner, and invade Loucas. You may save many lives with simple words, or I shall take many at the same result. The choice is yours.

Your loving nephew,

Johnas Valhera

Lavress looked to the carriage, began to walk there, then stopped. He met Aelaine’s eyes, bowed his head, and handed the scroll back to her.

“
Not now, not in his condition. This could kill him were he to know of it. To the temple Lavress, with great haste if you would.
” Aelaine was crying, wiping her eyes so the men would not see. Her only child, Gwenne, was missing, she knew the feelings all too well.

“As you wish, my lady”

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“Of course we lost the battle, but, we will win the war, oh yes we will…trust me sweet Vanessa…trust me.”

“And how do you know that,
Eliah
is it?”

“Eliah Shendrynn, yes, that is me, indeed. Salah Cam rests, his terrible afflictions are causing him much distress. He has placed me in charge of the armies of Avegarne and Mun Parr. I am the one who taught him, and I am no stranger to giant beasts and bloodshed.”

Vanessa looked at this golden skinned elf with suspicion. She had never heard that Salah Cam had a mentor, or that he learned his skills from a highborne from Kilikala. She glanced to Fadim, his dark eyes watching her as much as this strange nuance.

“I heard Avegarne lost his son, Sajogarne, in the battle of Southwind. Tension now brews with the ogre, what are your plans to ensure the continued war? Johnas will want answers.”

“The trolls are late with their numbers, typical really. But hundreds more are arriving soon. They say that they are waiting for a sign, something from their God or to that degree, something is arriving, Mun Parr, their queen has seen it. Regardless, I have a little surprise for Lord T’Vellon, do not be concerned Miss Blackflame. The ogre are angry, they want revenge.” Eliah in body, but Salah Cam in spirit, did not like the testing questions from this girl, not one bit. He knew she was either a whore for Johnas, or that Balric fellow. Either way, her skills were minute in comparison to his.

“I never told you my last name, and we have just arrived from Valhirst. How is it that you know me?” Vanessa wondered if Salah Cam knew she was Sapphire of the East of the eight most deadly of the White Spider, and if he had told that to this elven wizard as well.

“Salah spoke of your beauty often, a Caberran girl he drooled about at length. I can only assume it was of you he spoke.”

“How is it you plan to rally the ogre, in detail please.” Fadim, Crimson of the North, another one of the Emerald Eight, wanted specifics.

“I have powers that will take the dead, our dead, and raise them back up against them. As that happens, dear Fadim, and they kill more, I will animate their dead as well. By the time they recover, the trolls should be here. Then we all charge in force. Very simple. Any more interrogation?”

“Perhaps. Where is Salah Cam? As you are not one of us, I will need him and his warlock mirrors to contact our Patriarch in Harlaheim.” Vanessa would not let up easily. Something foul lingered in the air. Not the well dressed elf in such a drab and ruined place, not the missing Salah Cam, but something elusive was at work here, yet she could not place it.

“I told you he rests, a deep slumber. Not to be awakened, no, not at all.”

“We will see him,
now
.” Fadim put his hand to his shamshir, removed his black hood with the other, and positioned his feet pointing forward with just a small slide of his heels.

“An Altestani man giving me orders, here, in my…Salah’s stronghold? I would expect better manners, master Fadim.”

“I have not given my name either. You had better have a good explanation, Eliah Shendrynn.” Fadim was ready.

“Something is not right, we will see the old man, I insist.” Vanessa stood, wand in her hand from her robes quick, pointing at the elven stranger.

“As you wish, disrespectful humans. I will take you below the tower of Arouland, to see him. Follow me.” Salah Cam was annoyed, he had hoped they would not have made the journey. Tired of Johnas and his spiders, the political gambit he cared not for, his new body walked down the ruined stairs. Before he had swapped the souls in his ritual, this war and treasonous dealing with the White Spider had been exciting, vengeful, and a test of his powers. Now, only the young new body he had was of interest. He wanted out, wanted them gone or dead, Salah Cam wanted his freedom.

The air went cold as they went from ten stories above in a ruined spire to ten floors below into a ruined undercity. Ancient stoneworks, old pillars under the earth, collided with tunnels and bridges that looked hardly traverseable. Much was collapsed, or had and leaned precariously upon other frames of rock ready to fall. The moisture rose as small ponds and lakes appeared in the torchlit dark of the troll warrens. The Vateric Ocean sent crashing waves of a past storm from the west into the cliffs outside, sending echoes and murmurs through the rocks down here. Still further, more stairs in the dark, red beady eyes of trolls watching from the distance as their elven lord and his guests went lower under ruined Arouland.

“You see, the trolls must stay under, separate, for the ogre and the trolls hate one another. Some sages say they were once one, sons of the giants. They believe Annar cursed them, left them when they say demons took him away. Now, they are very different, the ogre and the trolls. One is ferocious, hard headed and strong, loving war, craving bloodshed. The other, they are like pack hunters, hard to kill as they regrow, yet soft skinned. It is an amazing evolution, these two species of giant beast, it truly is.” Eliah, as he appeared to be, rambled as they entered a gruesome chamber far underground.

A circular room opened before them with rotted tapestries too old to decipher their purpose. Green lit arcane sconces danced. Shadows flickered upon old wet stone walls. Chains rattled with ogre and troll victims, dead and rotted but with green light shining from eye sockets that turned on hard and dry vertebrae. Their mouths looked to talk, but the organs were either gone or perhaps their minds lacked any sort of ability in this state. A pit, a dark circular crevice where air seemed to swirl but made no noise, was in the center of the room. It knew they were there, no doubt something lurked or watched from the endless hole of black, anyone could feel it.

“Come, come in. Salah Cam rests in here, on the other side. Just be careful, sometimes the dead ones, they might try and give a little shove. Come, come.” Eliah walked past the specimens and subjects chained up on the walls, around the pit of darkness, and to a small alcove on the far side and stood next to a stone table with a body upon it.

Vanessa hesitated, seeing the pit and the deformed yet animated dead looking at her, she could not walk ahead. Fear had held her feet. Fadim walked ahead, minding his steps as the dried and disembolwed corpses struggled to reach him, heads turning in silence with mouths agape. He ignored the green glows and rattling chains, and made his way to the highborne elf. He kept close eye on the elven longblade he carried, the wand on his belt, and the hands, especially the one with the platinum ring he seemed to roll back and forth on his finger. Something was not right.

“It is him Vanessa, he sleeps. He is alive, well, as he was when I met him in Valhirst. His smell and appearance are none the better, yes it is Salah Cam. Where are the mirrors, elf?” Fadim did not touch him, but it was the old wizard laid out on a slab, breath going in and out, eyes shut. For such a rotting and scarred old husk of a man, the small resting spot did not seem that out of place.

“Mirrors, mirrors, yes. Here.” Eliah waved his hand, saying the word
Vutrinium
as he had learned in his time here, and the wall behind the alcove with the slab opened, the stone lifted and slid into the ceiling on enchanted power.

Another hidden room lay beyond, this one like a study. Desks of old stone, shelves built into walls, skulls on walls held candles that came aflame as it appeared. Scrolls and books hid rats, chains on ceilings dangled many a bat, and the smell of old parchment and mildew assaulted Fadim’s nostrils.

“There, there, he uses those to write messages to you, I think. Though I have no idea how. Your trinkets, of whoever you all belong to, are most difficult, yes?” Had to keep up the lies, had to play dumb he did, Salah Cam was nervous with his body next to him. He knew Eliah was trapped inside it, yet he had to keep the body, his body, alive in case something ever happened to the dark magicks the thing in the pit had taught him to employ.

“I shall inform Johnas of our arrival and await his commands.” Fadim sat next to the mirrors, having been taught how to use them as all the Emerald Eight had. “Alone.”

“Yes, of course. None of my concern, I would not know what was written there anyway in that odd language you use, no.”

“I would meet with Avegarne, see the ogre now, Eliah. Take me to him.” Vanessa needed to know that the ogre king was still in the war, still thirsted for blood, and still honored the deals of Salah Cam and Johnas Valhera.

“Quite a walk to the old Teirenshire castle, will master Fadim find us? We could wait.”

“He will find us, when he has finished.”

“Follow me then, follow me. Errand boy I am, it would seem.”

Heading south, over lakes of brackish water, Vanessa followed Eliah Shendrynn. His pace slowed, past the trolls, into dark cavern with dripping drops from above. He slowed more. His eyes focused, concentrating on his bats in the study. His eyes of teal closed, glowed orange from under the lids, putting his sight into his pets. He wanted to know what words this Fadim would send to Johnas, if he suspected what had transpired, his paranoia forced him to spy.

“What is it, why do we stop?”

“I see something, on the surface, yes, hold on one moment, I need to concentrate.” He lied again, holding still.

The tablets were out, the arcane phrases and words of passage had been traced by the Altestani assassin. He was writing, but not to Johnas. Salah Cam watched, he studied the words being traced on the white tablet, mirrored by a secret code that changed on the black one. Through the sight of his bats above Fadim, he looked back and forth, deciphering what was written in the arcane tongue.

Jhaleem

I am in the ruins of Arouland, and it is far from destroyed. The man you and our emperors inquire of, Johnas Valhera, indeed has an army comprised of ogre, trolls, and shapeshifting creatures. He employs women and allows them to use the blade and learn the arcane. He now has an elf from Kilikala and a sorcerer that has learned the secrets of necronomy and controls the dead. He plans to take Harlaheim, Chazzrynn, and deals with Willborne and Caberra as well. His webs run deeper than you had thought. It has taken years, but I now know all of his positions and members. He does little to seek out those that killed our cousins on the trade visit, he is not concerned. This man Johnas is aware of me, his whore surely has told him of her suspicions. Send your fastest ship and meet me along the coast of the Vateric Ocean, north of here. I will leave when I have destroyed the dead, these thieves of the arcane, and the elf. Something lurks in a pit, it whispers to me, the powers of these people have once again risen. It is time to act.

Glory to Altestan, glory to Yjaros, glory to the Emperors,

Your brother of the Yaj Alinahre

Fadim