The Exodus Sagas: Book IV - Of Moons and Myth (25 page)

A bronze set of four domes with crescent moon engravings
protected an open plateau of pillared sandstone. The raised dais was nearly five hundred feet across, shaded by the domes above, and held seats of stone
pews
enough for tens of thousands.
The seats formed a semicircle around a higher stage of stone and pillars, and
pure
golden chairs by the dozens
, all
in curved rows,
could be seen from even this distance.
Part castle, part auditorium, and
part defensible keep, the western palace looked to be w
atching over its ruined city
with an age
s old eye, and ancient
vigilance.

No one could speak, none of them moved more than was enough of their necks and eyes to take it all in, over and again. Desolate, all
was silent but for the whispering stor
m only feet behind them, yet
it
sounded as if it were miles away. The thunder faded as if it were not truly thunder, and only their slow deep breaths made
much
noise. Gwenneth stared at
the green marble tower. Shinayne looked to the east and over the peaks, hoping the lost elven city of Tintasarn may also lay
hidden
be
yond the Kaki Mountains
. Saberrak watched the streets for motion, back and forth, never having seen
construction nor size
the like
s he saw
before him now. James looked to the temples, seeing the wrethed leaf of Seirena next to a feathered cross of Alden
, the balconies connected by bridges from the seven to the three.
His blue eyes caught statues of Gods and Goddesses that seemed to beckon, though were
as
still as their
crumbling
stone.
He smiled and looked down to Zen.

The dwarf was moving his mouth, teary eyed, but it was hard for him to speak.
He whispered to them, holding back the
swelling emotion in his throat, letting a few trickles of tear escape
his eyes
as he spoke.

“
I guess the dwarves
and history books
was wrong, for I see the city o’ Mooncrest
, aye
I do
, and the doors to Kakisteele beyond
. Vundren be praised it exists, i
t truly exists, and we are
here, though I still don’t believe me eyes.
Someone
had
better warn whoever be here
,
that the last Thalanaxe has returned.
”

He
chuckled softly and
felt four hands touc
h his armored shoulders, he was
not alone, and Azenairk Thalanaxe looked up to the
sky. He
hoped
his family
could
see
him now
. He thought of his mother, his brothers, and thanked Vundren he and his friends were alive. “
I am here father, we made it
Papi
, aye we did
. Just as I promised ye’
.”

LCMVXILCMVXILCMVXILCMVXIL

Her longsword was too heavy, her steps stumbled and she fel
l again, her steel helm tumbling
across the soft moist ground.
Katrina left it there, her attention was ahead, to the dark stain of days old blood that marked the hill. Crawling, starving, the queen of Willborne made it to the top and licked the small splattered puddle. It was Rynnth, she knew the taste, she felt the sensation on her tongue.
It was fresh too, perhaps a day or less old. Katrina was close again.
Her mind and will felt not the pull of the blood any longer, just a festering hate that would not sit idle.

How long she had been tracking the ancient and injured dragon, she did not know. Days, weeks, through sunlight and moonlight both she had followed her prey. South through the Misathi Mountains, southeast into the Hallowmoors, she had found her there many days back. Trolls were trying to scavenge what they had thought was a dead dragon, and Katrina had waited to strike. The battle had been bloody, the trolls by the dozens had burned to ash, but she had cleaved deep into a wingbone before Rynnth took flight. When she crashed again to the swamp, the queen of Willborne took part of her tail, three claws, and severed the useless wing from the dragon’s body before the wyrm swam deep into the swamps.

Finding her way out, living off of moss, snakes, and cranes, Katrina now had a flightless adversary. Still, the trek due east had taken its toll on her. Hot harvest humidity plagued h
er with bugs and lice. The foul moisture
of the swamps left her consumed with trying to make fire so that she could boil water and not die of thirst. Trolls hunted her while she followed bloody signs of the dragon eastward. The swamps gave way to higher ground, fogs and mist rose in the mornings and evenings, and she knew now that she had passed the borders of her kingdom.
Why Rynnth would lead her back to Willborne, she had not a clue. Yet, determination and cause would not see her falter, and Katrina continued her stalking steps closer to the dragon she had vowed to kill.

Her attempt to stand and look from the hilltop was excrutiatingly painful. She looked below her armored plates, moved her shield to the side, and saw that a clawmark on her calf was dripping green and yellow puss. Red lines went in three different directions across her swollen leg. She saw the tip of a maggot worming around what was only a scratch from days past. She bent over, plucked it out, and winced as four more poured out with the release of warm white liquid down to her ankle inside her boot.
Katrina wiped her hand in the small pool of still moist dragonblood, and smeared it across the infected wound. She grit her teeth as it burned and soothed at the same time. Her eyes flared red, not that she could see it, but she felt it in her vision. Her hand went for the wineskin, the
one she had lifted from Veuric after she had
killed him. Cupping her hand, Katrina scooped and poured the blood into the skin
container
, filling it halfway. She shook it and swirled it in her hand, then drank, just a swallow.

Her body felt less fatigue, her aches and pains were lessened, and her hunger died away. A trick she had learned in the Misathi when she was a bound slave to Rynnth. It protected her from the flames, and now with her will strong and resistant, and the dragon’s weak and injured, she was a dangerous predator indeed. Katrina limped down the hill, picked up her helm and crown, and continued east.

The sun was burning her face every day as she marched alone after the dragon that had ruined her. Rynnth had made her queen, gave her power, but had also led to the deaths of eighty knights and captains from every noble house in Willborne, from the nobility that had survived her coronation that is. Faldrune, her minotaur bodyguard and mercenary enforcer, the one that dehorned Heathen the red of Valhirst, was dead as well.
The selfish wrath the wyrm had forced upon her had left her and the dragon defeated.

Now, Katrina feared being in the very kingdom she supposedly ruled. Willborne would have vengeance upon her, dragon to blame or no, and that revenge would be painful and fatal for certain.
She recognized her surroundings, though it had been some years since she had been this far west. The keep and council of her forefathers of Willborne was due east, Claumoore was north several days, and Fort Tyl was perhaps only a day to the south. The hills held valleys of marsh between them, scattered with streams and groves of willow trees, and cattails sprung by the thousands with every turn or descent.

She stopped, she felt it and heard it in the same instant. Katrina turned behind a tree and slowly drew her longsword, her shield hidden as best she could, and she listened. Garbled and muffled moans, then the crunching of bones, and the pitter pat of blood onto the ground hinted that something
large
was eating
. Wait for her to chew louder, make a move, then charge in Katrina. You can do this, she deserves death, and only you will have the chance to end it.
The queen spoke to herself in her mind, over and over, biting her lip to hide the chance Rynnth could still read her thoughts.
The pain seemed to preside over conscious thought, another trick she had learned while captive.

The chewing was louder now, another body of another something, just down a stream and through some trees, she felt the blood tell her. Her eyes opened red, her head and body turned in a flash, and Katrina raised her shield and charged in.

“
Aaaarrrhhh!!!”
She screamed a battle cry into the grove by the bubbling tributary
, hoping to startle the unsuspecting wyrm
.

“
Hhhhhsssssshh!!!”
Rynnth returned with a hissing warning, protecting
her meal of charred victims from
the merchant roads. Though still massive, the dragon had more fresh scars than an army of men
combined
. Her one eye was but a rotted socket now, her tongue was little more than
half
a blackened strip of flesh, and the fangs on the left side of both jaws were gone. One wing was but a stump of bone protruding from her shoulder, her hind legs scraped uselessly behind, and her tail was missing at least twenty feet of the tip. Regardless of her weakened state,
black scaled
Rynnth’s mouth shot out flame for over a hundred feet, incinerating everything in sight, and she kept billowing until her breath gave out. When she stopped, all was black smoke and ash.

Stomp, stomp, stomp

Katrina had no hair left below her helmet line, her long braids burned off many times
over
now.
Her armor smoldered, glowing hot in places, just like her shield and sword. Yet, her flesh felt not the bite of the flames, and she marched through the cinders and smoke, straight at the massive dragon. Her steps quickened into a rush
again
, staring through the billowing black as
the injured wyrm had turned around once more
to flee
.

The queen of Willborne screamed another cry of hate, leapt up and dove off of a fallen tree, then plunged her hot blade into the spine of Rynnth. Her gauntlet grabbed the loosened and bloody scales, she pulled her blade free, and drove it down again into the back of her draconic foe.

The wyrm hissed and screamed, thrashing from side to side as she clawed and scrambled ahead with her front legs. Her tail swished now like a snake, and even her good wing was assisting in motion. A third piercing strike stung like nothing she had ever felt
before, and then her lower half
felt no more. Her legs, tail, and abdomen went numb, the queen she once controlled had cleaved her spine.
She lowered her head and slowed, hoping she could lure her huntress close and whip her horned skull around and end this torturous battle.

Katrina felt it, the dragon was slowing
and dying
, so she climbed up toward the head. Over the broken bone stump
of a wing
, across the hardened black scale ridges, and she stopped right at the base of the neck. Her blade raised up
for a finishing thrust
, and then all went dark and sparks of pain forced her eyes closed.
Her last moments saw only black h
orns snap back, then it was over
.
She was falling, then her legs went end over end as she hit a tree, and her body was rolling down a hill. Her armor scattered and the straps tore loose, her helmet
and crown
rolled off again, and her shield was gone.

She opened her eyes, gripped her sword, and looked at her leg. Broken, the bone piercing through above the ankle, leaving her with two bad legs. She heard the dragon shamble, try to crawl, and then she heard a long hiss as Rynnth’s breath let out and her body crashed to the stream. Katrina dared not breath, helpless as she now was. Her air wen
t in slow, through her nostrils
as she listened. An
agonizing
hour passed, and the wyrm had not inhaled, though she could not see over the hill to where she lay.
Another hour, she knew Rynnth had not breathed nor moved, she knew her foe was dead in the stream.

Rynnth must be dead, must be, but I need to see it with my eyes.
Katrina looked over fifty feet away, seeing the wineskin full of draconic blood she needed to heal and survive, and she slowly began to crawl from her broken position.
Her fingers pulled her to her elbows, then she shuffled up the hill on the moist grass, determined to get the wineskin. Her pain was intolerable as she now felt much more than a leg broken in her body, and her mind swam with flashes of intense weariness and shock. She tried to see over the hill, to see the rotting corpse of Rynnth, but her head fell to the earth. As Katrina, queen of Willborne, faded into darkness, she heard horses and men. She heard yelling and boots and armor coming her direction as the sun burned bright above. She smiled, knowing that either way, she was unable to move and would surely be killed once
recognized. She smiled, accepting
at least she had taken her revenge on the dragon.
Justice had been done.