The Exodus Sagas: Book IV - Of Moons and Myth (24 page)

“We go through it!” Gwenneth yelled, staff in hand, eyes staring back at the storm in defiance.

“How?” Saberrak flared his notrils at the black robed woman.

“I have a few ideas
, trust me
!” Gwenne smiled as the wind whipped her black hair straight back from her head.
She looked to the staff of Imoch, the ancient carved runes in the dark redwood and the emerald atop both glowed, and let her know it could be of assistance.

Silent nods in the howling of winds appeared from James, the minotaur, Zen, and the highborne elf
, all directed toward Gwenneth. Each waited for the approval of another, none too certain of what she could do against such power, but neither did they have an
y
answer
s
themselves.

Down off the Temple Way they pushed, the storm throwing unforgiving belts of wind at them with relentless ambition. An hour passed, it seemed as much more from their exertion at each step, and they had made it but a mile closer to the old ruined outpost. The hill was not visible in the dark gray morass of swirling anger, yet Shinayne and the last Thalanaxe guided them to where they knew it had been. Now their steps were heavy, labored, and breathing was as much a task as carrying forward.

First one on all fours was Shinayne,
her light frame started to lift
and she dropped to the ground as to not be taken away by the storm. She looked back, barely making out the figures of her four friends, and then reali
zed that nothing but darkness and impenetrable winds were in view no matter which way she looked. Large branches tossed overhead, old skulls bounced off the ground only to be sucked back up, and even small rocks flew through the maddening circle they were now inside.

James and Gwenneth crawled next to Shinayne, while Saberrak and Azenairk crouched and gathered close. The monotaur and the dwarf put their backs to the west, blocking some of the debris,
and the five sat low and tried to catch
their breath.

“I.
.I..cannot…breath…here…too hard!
” James was gasping.

Grunts and squinting flinches from Saberrak let them know his back, despite the scale mail her wore, was taking a beating from the debris.
The constant impacting of things large and small kept him quiet.

“Allright, we be in here now! And a stupid idea it was! Now what?!”

“It seems to strengthen as we push on, before long I will be lifted up and you all will be---“ Shinayne was cut off.

“Be silent!” Gwenneth stood slowly, staff in hand, holding onto Zen with the other. She put her body directly behind the minotaur’s, letting his size block as much wind as possible.
She concentrated, eyes closed, and reiterated some of the passages from the book Ansharr had given her
, with her own verbage of the arcane mixed in
.

“
Usk ava, drixolin usxivian uhrr althiex
!” Gwenneth Lazlette focused her energies and words through the staff and then back into herself, and then
light radieated
out her other hand. She had never channeled in such a fashion, yet the book mentioned that ancient wyrms cast in such a manner at times due to their inability at small complex arcane gestures.
She continued to yell her newfound words in the draconic tongue over the storm. “
Juriasi vughix amerxis vash vah!”

The staff glowed from the emerald, then the top rune, the second, and then the third of five took an orange flaming illumination. That arcane fire shot back into Gwenne’s hand, near Zen who jerked away quickly, and then they all saw her eyes glow with a flicker of fire.
It was gone a moment later, yet she smiled as if something wondrous that only she could understand had just occurred.

“
Athalies uduarte hivianis uhhrr
!” White strokes of light erupted from her hands, dancing through the gale and touching each of her friends, arcing from one to the next and lastly back into her fingertips.

Gwenneth hovered off the ground slowly, Saberrak
grabbed
for her before the winds took her, then stopped as she shook
her head that she was fine. And she was, it was as if the winds held little sway on her glowing form. Lightning flashed, not of her own making, and the storm seemed to grow in fury. Bones and branches suddenly joined the low circling debris, determined to impact into her and her friends. Gwenne flared her eyes at the massive onslaught of remains and ruin, and despite no visible barrier, they arced up at the last moment and spun back harmlessly into the storm. Perspiration appeared on her brow, the concentration was beyond anything she had ever unleashed, but she spoke nonetheless.

“Breath slowly! Stomp your feet and head in!”
Gwenneth shouted from above their heads, eyes flaring white now as an entire tree was forced away with her eyes, right before crushing them all.

Just as Saberrak went to speak his argument, white light entered his nostrils and mouth. Some form of the arcane was pulling fresh air from the storm and into his chest. Then the same occurred with Shinayne, then James and Zen. None rose from their cowering positions as the cursed hurricane
continued to strengthen, pushing them down while threatening to draft them up should they stand.

“Get up, now!” She yelled. Gwenneth raised her arms, hovering in the gale, and a barrage of thousands of bones and skulls were directed away, surely sent by this willful storm of ages.

As they stood, hesitantly, orange flames licked and swirled at their feet, harmless fires that looked as claws and burned into the very ground. Their legs were heavy, arcane energies weighting them
down
, as each step produced a quick cindering mark into the cursed earth.
Step by heavy step, through a storm that not even the loudest roar would pierce, the four companions trudged ahead. Gwenneth floated over them, yet Saberrak kept one hand on her robe, just in case.

By the hill with the ruined outpost they climbed, Shinayne nodding to them that this was where they had been before. Mouths opened for air, yet the drum and howl of
wicked
wind smothered any
attempts at
sound beyond its own.
Thunder roared above but was an echo by the time it reached the ground. Gwenneth stopped, nearly half an hour of focus and she still had strength left, yet she pointed to a chasm
that blocked their path
.

Zen nodded and pointed too, remembering the
wide
watery trench filled
deep
with the dead from last night
’s scouting
. He crouched at the edge, flaming boots licking and burning his stationary spot in
to
the ground. There were no bones, no water to be seen, only the horrid whipping of winds and imbedded bones barely revealed as the stone and earth was torn away.
He looked to the others, knowing that if they were to turn
to the
right
,
the winds would likely stop them in their tracks, arcane might or no. To the left, should they search for a bridge, would see them whipped with the currents of air and likely taken far beyond where they wished to go. Their only success had been
pushing forward, keeping l
ow, and knifing
right
through the unnatural storm. Going directly along
or against it,
even
dropping into the trench with it, would likely be more than Gwenneth could counteract.
The dwarven priest got to his knees, put his hands around his hammer and moons, and prayed louder than he ever had before.

“
Vun vathur onri uthgav ir ven!”
He pounded his fist to the earth as his friends took knee and watched. Only Gwenneth remained still above them all as she forced more arcane energy towar
d
deflecting the worsening barrage.

Earthen roots of golden sandstone crept and grew from the edge, overlapping like vines of rock, slowly forming a bridge wide enough for ten men to walk abreast. Five feet, then ten feet out, then it began to slow and dissolve as the winds tore it to pieces and dust. The gale in the trench shot yellow for a moment, throwing the remains of the dwarf’s attempt across his face. Azenairk looked at his friends, receiving only desperate weary nods of thanks for his efforts. He gritted his teeth, looked up at the storm, and pounded both fists into the ground. He dug his fingers into the earth, yelling his prayers to Vundren even louder.
His mind focused.
I did not make it this far to be stopped by a ditch and a nasty breeze!

“I said,
Vun vathur onri uthgav ir ven!
Vun vathur
Vundren cathduran agaste
onri uthgav ir ven!”
He twisted his fingers more
in the ground, raised
his head to the unseen sky, and repeated the chant as long as he could before taking another breath and continuing.

The golden rock shot forth again, fifty feet across, serpentine rock layering
over and over, and this time sho
oting down into the trench as well. Supports of sandstone dove into the base of the thirty foot windswept chasm, and the bridge went out twenty five feet now. The storm raged, whipping the edge of the growing divine stonework with skulls uncounted. Pieces of stone broke off, then were covered by more sandstone vines as Zen pounded relentlessly upon the ground. His fist now held his symbol of Vundren, the other grabbed his warhammer, and his friends watched as he unleashed blow after chanting blow onto the ground he knelt u
pon. He stood, eyes squeezed shut and brow furrowed as he prayed
, and
then
began to walk.
The bridge he had divinely created was beyond sight across the chasm, at least fifty feet out or more. Step by step he walked,and he still chanted, as his form st
arted disappearing into the cursed storm of wrath
.

Gwenneth, fearless in her concentration, hovered across first and the
n set down to the bridge. T
he streaming current over the chasm the storm had
created
,
were
now
too strong.
Not seeing Zen ahead, not able to voice a word, the prodigal wizard watched the west for more bombarding debris.
She walked, blindly following, and looked back to James and the others. They were right behind her,
watching her steps. One by
one, each holding onto
each other, the four traversed the crafted sandstone bridge, searching for their dwarven friend.

Before they were halfway, the earth shook and the storm howled even louder. It seemed angry tha
t anyone would dare venture this far in
.
Gwenne held Shinayne’s hand, then the elf held James’, who in turn was being held by the shoulder by Saberrak.
The four crouched now, small steps only, and even Gwenne’s arcane energies were being met
equally
by the vicious winds. Then, as sudden as a flash of lightning,
a strong hand reached Gwenneth and pulled on her arm that held the staff. Barely making out the stocky dwarf through the gray and dark blue clouds that raced over them, she tugged the others, and crawled ahead with Azenairk’s assistance.

It stopped. The wind was behind them as if some barrier held it
to the trench and outward alone. Fresh air, light breezes, and bright gray light welcomed them as they set foot beyond the sandstone bridge.
They could breath, they could hear again, and the five companions stood reunited and looked south to where they had fought so hard to reach.

Shinayne’s aquamarine eyes widened, Saberrak stood tall and unstrapped his greataxes, and James wiped his face and beard twice in disbelief. Gwenneth felt tears
welling
in her green eyes and a smile of victory and curiosity cross
ed
her mouth. Zen, smiling and unblinking, turned to his friends.

He watched their eyes gaze from east to west, across the
surrounding
sandstone peaks just a mile ahead and towering
over the valley
, just as his
eyes
had minutes ealier
. A sandstone road lined with white
bricks twisted through the
entire
city to the
peaks,
landing
high up the mountainside
to a set of ornate
golden
doors as tall as two men, and each just as wide.
Atop the peaks were dozens of small manorhomes of decorated stone, and even two castles with domed keeps and towers
were
built into their
high
curtain walls
that lined the cliffs of the Kaki Mountains
.

Lower into the city itself, there were temples, none less than fifty feet high and some still stood twice that
or more
. To the eastern edge
,
the crenallations and
building
design
s
were intricate, detailed to age o
ld perfection, and everything
seemed built around
dead
trees of great size.
The elven district it was for certain. In the near center of myriad homes and shops by the thousands, several streets ended around a tower of green and gray swirled marble, smooth and thin it was reaching
in
to the gray skies. The center looked to hold open theaters, a temple district of seven
towering
cathedrals surrounding three others
and connected by a maze or bridges
, and each of the ten holy places looked different in architecture from the next.
Their eyes followed to dwarven districts, stables long empty of steeds, canals that ran dry, and even
giant
gardens that held but dead vines and empty pots
as large as wagons
.
To the western edge, more homes drifted into ruin, keeps crumbled in
to
disarray, yet one structure still stood
proud
over the long lost city.