The Exodus Sagas: Book IV - Of Moons and Myth (61 page)

“
Jardayne
!” Low King Symond bellowed as he placed his crown atop his brow. He lifted his greatsword, from the side of the throne, a magnificent blade of ages old steel. He had barely used it in decades, and it was heavy for him in his older years.

“
Sire!
” He stopped, turned, and looked to the outstretched hand of Symond. He saw the sword, their backs still to him, and he ran fast to take it.

“
Fight with honor, knight of Evermont,
give Harron
and Rohne
my warm regards.
” Symond whispered, and let him take the blade.

“
He will receive your steel, sire
.”

He ran, tired and aching with fatigue, as fast as he could down the steps of his glorious city.
Many men, including the three knights he had left in charge, were waiting ouside the doors to Evermont Castle. They fell in behind him, wanting to ask where his sash was, what had been said, and where he was going. No one spoke, just
followed the fast march of Sir J
ardayne. He made the
six floors of long
steps with but four deep breaths, fighting his exhaustion.
He passed the gates to the upper keeps, kept his descending rush of stairs, and turned left toward the stables
once he reached low ground
. More men fell in, hundreds now in tow. They muttered, as rumor had spread of what had transpired in Freemoore, of the possibility that Evermont would stand against Armondeen.

“Cavalry, Sir Anders, get me all our cavalry. Now.” Jardayne opened the stables. “And strip off a
ny symbols of our kingdom and
city. No banners, just the men, the horses, and their swords. I need it done an hour ago.”

“As you wish, Knight General. To where do you ride with such a force?” Sir Anders of Carrelyn spoke as he pointed to dozens of men to be sent to the barracks, the armory, and the supply houses.

“Northwest.”

“Armondi territory?”

“Yes.”

“With the king’s knowledge
, his sovereign orders,
and blessing
s
of Evermont?” Anders cast a questioning look to his superior.

Jardayne sighed, mounted his steed, and nodded to the yes
, then looked to the greatsword of the low king, and back up to Sir Anders
. “No, I do this alone. Will you stop me, Sir Anders of Carrelyn?”

He was confused for a moment, then he smiled
at the blade, he knew whose it was
. He tore the stallion emblems from Jardayne’s horse, and placed them on the railing. He heard the men coming, the clanking of armor
already
half o
n echoed into the stone stables.

“How many men do you need, Sir?” Anders looked up to Jardayne.

“All five hundred
we have
.”

“
Tis’ tru
e then,
Harron leads the army, doesn’t he?” Anders wished he could go, but he knew this was secret, and only three knights remained to guard Evermont, three out of ten.

“I am not sure, but they left Vin Armon
days ago
, surely you have heard
.”

“
Men!
You ride with this man here, you ride hard
with no colors nor banner
, and
you ride those Armondi bastards into the ground!
” Anders yelled it over the raucous.

“
Hail, hail, hail!”
they roared back.

“I will bring you Harron’s head
, Sir Anders.” Jardayne grabbed his reins.
“If he is there.”

“Just make sure he does not get them,
our five friends
, promise me that.”

“On the Shield of Shanador, and my honor,
by Alden he will not
.” Jardayne nodded, looked back once, then spurred his mighty stallion out of Evermont, five hundred men trailing out behind him.
The sun glared down, the cavalry charged at a fast pace, and the half legion of Shanadorians headed northwest toward the ruined curselands.

Kakisteele Mines

Azenairk Thalanaxe kept his head low, eyes closed, praying for an hour now in blessed silence. His hand no longer trembled, his tears did not fall, and his fears and failings of all his years had vanished. Outwardly, no one would know of it, but the tablet before him was healing him deep inside, as he healed it with his golden touch. The dwarven priest felt purpose, truth, and the words of Vundren, his God, right here and now. The Golhiarden was the myth of the dwarven race, the truth and commands of their God to His people. It had been broken into four separate pieces, as the holy texts go, for protection from Altestan and their ruthless God. This one
of the F
orge
, long lost and believed destroyed, now lay agains
t
the cavern wall in Kakisteele
, whole
. Zen’s hand repaired and mended
e
very crack
, smoothed it back to perfectio
n
, and the words went into him
without being read.
The white
stone was
complete from its fractured form, and the script was glowing gold and bright, as a soft hum of deep choir whispered in the mines.
A dwarven choir, from the gathered ghosts here, and ones unseen.

“It is done, by Vundren’s will, the holy tablet
, words
o’ the forge
,
they are
healed.”

“
Aksuvierre uth drasci uth figoor shemsi bashi, Thalanaxe…
”

Hair stood on their arms, shivers danced their spines, and the far off whispers echoed with a woman’s dark voice, again. This time, it was closer.

“What did she say, horned one?” Zen stood, looking at the quarter ton tablet of stone from his faith, then glanced up to Saberrak.

“
It matters not, you will never leave this place, Thalanaxe
.” The gray minotaur repeated what she had said and stared down at the battered yet closed door that led deeper into the mines.

“
We shall see bout’ that then.” He nodded to his friends, strapped on his shield, and picked up his warhammer.

Shinayne led next to Saberrak, the tunnels not as wide as they once were, then James and Gwenneth fell in behind their dwarven priest, keeping him well protected in the middle. The passage declined at a steep angle, yet the golden glow of divine lights flickered from a platinum pillar over another set of golden doors with black powdered crystalline engravings.

“
Marnu ninar
, means first born daughter.” Zen looked to the ring of keys
as he read the inscriptions
.

“Serpents wrapped around the twin moons, it is the sign of love, judgement, and the scales of justice. Vasentanessa
is their only daughter
,
that one there.” Saberrak pointed to the key with her symbol.

“Ye’ sure? Not that ye’ been wrong thus far, but serpent Goddess keys in me holy mines and all, just askin’.” Zen reached his hand with the key to the lock.

“I am sure.” Saberrak huffed.

The key went in, the light flashed, and the key was back in his hand without feeling it as the doors opened just a crack, all on their own. One by one, they slipped in throu
gh the opening, seeing red glows
flashing and flitting in the massive chamber ahead.

“Now that is a sight, by all the Gods and Goddesses of the white moon, look at that.” Shinayne smiled, feeling a tear touch her cheek as they reached another lofty stone balcony with stairs to each side.

Below were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of red, orange, and yellow glowing pillars of
blessed divine light
. They rose as high as fifty feet, all across a cavern that was as large as the ruins above, just here alone. The shimmering veins and streams of gold and platinum ore reflected the light
s
from the outer
walls and floor, even the ceiling
was flooded with deposits of invaluable precious metal. Scaffolds of steel, ladders of bronze, and mining camps by the dozens lay across the lower mines of Kakisteele.
Wheelbarrows of mined white iron, piles of silver and rock, and tools of every dwarven sort were
still organized and ready.
It looked as though the operation was still in progress, would there have been anyone here to continue
it
.

“The unfinished mines, full of divine steel for divine forges, Vundren’s holy hammer, I do not believe me eyes.” He whispered, gazing across miles of spanning cavern far below him.
“Thousands o’ tons of it, everywhere, more than all the dwarven kingdoms combined, by God, look at it.”

A pat on the shoulder from James brought him back from the breathtaking scene. “Let’s go down,
together
this time.” He walked to the stairs.

“Aye, together then.” He smiled, eyes still engrossed with the deep delves of forgotten Kakisteele, and the riches yet unt
aken. Riches uncountable
, here in this cavern alone.

The closer they drew, down countless stairs deep under the mountain range, they all saw movement erupt near a toppled statue. At first they all ran, knowing their dwarven priest would charge in. As they closed, they knew the shadows and ghosts for what they were. Memories.

The five walked amidst an ancient battle, one that they could not partake in, as it sprouted from every direction. Pale gray dwarves by the thousands battled a horde of shadowy men from Altestan. Flags and banners were raised, though black
shade only, it was obvious who they were. A shattered statue of Vundren lay in the center of the cavern, and soon the silent war seemed all too real. They could almost hear the cries of bloodshed, the screams of long dead dwarves and soldiers of men, and the howl of demons that flooded the air over the lower mines. Apparitions ran through the companions, as if they were not there, while northern shadows whisked by them in their brutal charge. Dwarves already dead, di
ed again. Demonic winged forms
tore gray warriors to pieces, and spears and blades of black outnumbered the gray forces at least ten to one. Within half an hour of slow, agonizing walk to the center, it was all but over.
The statue of Vundren was destroyed, the dwarves ran deeper, those that had survived anyway. And banners of foreign emperors were raised.

“It is not real, Zen. It is an illusion, a memory set to a horrid curse that wishes it reseen. Do not think that you can change it, it is the past.” Shinayne touched his shoulder.

“I know it, elf. I know, thank ye’. Let us see where they go then.”

The shadows carried on, through the passage further down and south, not a gray ghost of a dwarf left in view. Zen stopped at the statue, black banners that his hand passed through whipped in a furious breeze that was not here. He looked down, then ahead to where the soldiers of Altesta
n had run in their eternal hunt
, and followed without a word.

More stairs, deeper, the air was now getting heavy and thick. The lights were fewer, until Gwenneth shed her green light from the staff. Crystal chunks of green, blue, red, and
black emerged from the passage walls
that now twisted and turned with rough walls and unfinished sandstone ceilings. Old bits of armor and weapons, mining gear and helms, and dwarven bones now littered the floor. Soon it was hard to walk
without disturbing the ancient
remains, both dwarven and Altestani alike. The tunnels and corridors w
ere covered with the dead remnants
of a war long over
, as the memory of it could be seen in shadows, over and over again.

A grand plateau, over an endless black chasm, stretched out
of
the myriad of tunnels and corridors that led down this deep. Green lights, nearly matching Gwenneth’s staff, shone from above a set of dwarven carved golden doors, twice the size of any previous entry. Their steps were quiet, cautious, yet forward they went across a path of stone with no rails, no bottom below, and no supports in sight. It held, and the five looked to the right of the doors, to a set of eight glistening red stones high in the air. The closer they came to the door with the hammer and moons of Vundren engraved upon them, the brighter the red lights became
from their enshrouded height nearly fifty feet up
.

“
Stop. Those lights, they see us
.” Shinayne whispered as she drew her matching blades.

“Everything sees us here, it is just light, elf.” Saberrak snorted.

“No, she’s right, something moves in the shadows there, hidden.” Gwenneth began a quick chant to illuminate the light of day down here, as her green glow was somehow nullified by the green from the emerald inscriptions upon the massive door. Her fingers waved in a fanning motion. “
Hialus, deriande de uathes
.”