The Exodus Sagas: Book IV - Of Moons and Myth (66 page)

He breathed in the aquamarine eyes trimmed with silver of his beloved, her golden locks of hair so long, and her beautiful lips and cheeks. Then Lavress breathed out, they were dancing, it was perfect, and he knew she loved him without question. Their blades twirled in kata, hands and eyes never leaving one another, and then they kissed. He saw it all in his mind, like all their meditations and spiritual elven meetings.

…
Yes, yes, now sing to her Lavress, sing to her and your love will close the doors if it is true…

Lavress forced out the sound of battle above, focused on his visions of Shinayne T’Sarrin, and opened his mouth. He tried to remember the songs she would sing to him in the groves, long ago in Kilikala. His words, ones he did not put there, came out in elven, describing exactly what he could feel.
His body ran red with more blood,
it dripped down his legs and back and over the throne,
but on he sang.

“
Hialde ures de amteruas ethea de, ahmoliaro…”

The stone began to move, Lavress felt the pull of something powerful, from his chest through the throne. His eyes opened, there were vines growing from the walls at a fast pace. Pixies flew into frenzy, nixie boys sat in prayer in front of him, as did goblins of all sorts and small sizes, and so did the beautiful naked dryads as their leaves fluttered in unseen breezes.
His heart quickened, his wounds seeped, and his eyes rolled back.

“
Jurali ethmes dafora Shinayne kialu, teotearo…”

Lavress sang of every moment they had met, in the flesh and otherwise, since she was a child. He expres
sed every feeling he had for Shinayne
, and the fey of the temple wept
as they heard how long the two lovers had been apart.
He prayed for her safety, her heart to be close to his, his eyes closed again as the pull was tremendous on his body.

“
Liolie ruande arestana haiye, Shinayne lodanaro…”

Caroom…
crack…crack…

The temple doors shut, the song ended, and Lavress Tilaniun
of the Hedim Anah
,
fell from the throne. He was unaware, but leaves of rich green grew from the ground, sparkling with lights and love, and caught him as he fell.
White flowers began to bloom around him.
The
vines
wrapped
him c
lose as his body bled the earthen floor
. Not a creature stirred, just cried and stared, as he lay still. Slowly, one by one, all of the gathered spirits of the Whitemoon sang songs of his bravery,
as the temple moved far away from Chazzrynn.
The sphinx continued her desperate prayers over Liogan Andellis. The fairy princess Ramaya-nun whispered healing powers from the fey to Bryant Salganat. The temple shook, moving fast through the realms of the Whitemoon, to an unknown destination, a mystical journey that
Lavress Tilaniun would never see.

Sacred Forge of Vundren,
Depths of
Kakisteele

The battle had begun again, more horrifying than before, yet a
ll five of them remained calm as they walked
the sacred cavern. Gray dwarves
fought and died in silence
,
one of them resembling a splendid king covered in plates of half moon steel discs, and wielding a half warhammer half battle axe weapon as he led a retreat. His crown was fused to an open faced helm with spikes and stones adorning it, and his shield of two crossed crescent steel moons was killing as many Altestani shadows as his regal hammeraxe was.
His beard of dark braids swung from side to side, yelling orders
that only the other dead could
hear. It was plain to see, outnumbered at least twenty to one, that these gray apparitions would not last much longer against the shadows of demons and men from ages past.
It looked like this was their last stand
, a circle formed of the dwarves, and it ever shrunk against the hordes of Altestan
.

The cavern widened, white light drawing their attention beyond the false battle. Zen walked through it, saw through it, and made for a curling ramp of stone that led down.
His friends said little now, seeing that he was at peace with the falseness of the scenes, no matter how vivid and terrible they were. His eyes, much focused on battle and finding she who held this place cursed, opened wide as they reached the bottom of the ramp.

“
The holy forges, pinch me, slap me, somethin’ please.”

Smack

“Thank ye’ Saberrak
, now both me shoulders ache.” Zen stared across the flat sandstone cavern, seven rising steel furnaces, hundreds of feet in the air before him. Stairs went up in circles around them, dwarven engravings glowed faintly from their smooth outer walls, and at the base of each a golden fire still smoldered.

They stepped closer, seeing anvils of white iron, as big as horses, glisten with long lost divinity. Hundreds there were, all with white iron hammers and tools resting alongside. Each forge had a bellows that would take ten dwarves to operate, a small set of tables and chairs for meals sat with forks and bowls, and even a prayer alcove built into each one. The symbols on each were not all of the hammer and moons of Vundren, however. The largest held the design of the dwarven God upon its steel face. The others held symbols of Alden, Annar, Haddius, Solumet, Siril, and Vasentanessa.

“The forge, it be for those keys, the ones ye’ been speakin’ of Saberrak. By Vundren, tis a forge o’ the, o’ all the…the…”

“Carician children of the white moon, one for each of them.” Saberrak finished his statement for him.

“Aye, them.
Look at all that white iron, the platinum, the golden blends o’ steel, by Vundren’s holy hammer tis a lot it is.”

They walked in slowly, dwarfed by the massive structures of divine origins, and kept south toward a set of stairs. Zen furrowed his brow, seeing the black steps covered in skulls and bones, piled high, and the door was not of dwarven craft at all. It was made of bones, fused and black, shiny and marked with strange designs that looked less than friendly. He knew where he had to go.

Suddenly, the kingly figure ran past them, through them, all alone. His gray form making no sound, yet he
was injured as gray blood poured down his armor. He snuck, ducked from view, as if being followed. He turned into the forges, twisting each way, and stopped at the forge of Vundren.

“What is he doing?” Shinayne watched as the lone gray figure knelt below the opening to the forge, and pulled out a leather bag. He was crying, yet he scooped ashes into the bag and tied it shut. Then the apparition placed a key inside of a box, then a rolled parchment, and shoved the bag inside as well.

“That be him, that be Mudren Sheldathain, by Vundren it is. Why is the king not with his men, dying in the battle?” Zen followed Shinayne, the others close behind.

The ghost went on
to the right of the forges, against
the shadowy wall, and met with someone or something. There was nothing there, just a small passage, big enough for a dwarf perhaps. Yet
the ghost was talking, on a knee
, lecturing someone that was not there. The five companions stood right over him, watched him embrace someone, then another smaller someone, his arms wrapping around air alone to their eyes.
He took off his armor and helm with the crown, handed his hammeraxe to someone, and then gave the box to someone else. Still, there was no vision of who he was speaking to. He pointed toward the passage, even pushed someone to go, then began looking back to the forges behind him.
He ran, sneaking and hiding, trying to take cover.

Zen sniffled and wiped his eyes. “
He be giving the box, me box, and all he has to his family or someone. Oh God, what is that?
Why don’t he fight, why is he runnin’?
”

A dark form, a shadow with wings, twelve feet tall and surrounded by flying demons, stood over them. Red eyes formed, her hand pointed, and the demons swooped down and smothered the ghostly king of Kakisteele. He did not fight, he dropped his shield, and was carried off. The demons went through the bone doors, as did the massive figure, as did the king.
Then the shadows faded, all without a sound.

Azenairk reached for him, his hand passed through anything moving, and he knew it was but the past. Still, he whispered. “
No, don’t take him, no…”

Shinayne reached down in the shadows to where the apparition of the king had been, and felt around. Nothing.

“Someone has been here.” She drew her blades and looked around, now that another
horrifying and
vivid scene was over.

“What makes you say that?” James drew his blade as well, trusting her instincts.

“He dropped his shield here, should still be there, but it is not. So, someone has taken it.” Shinayne looked around, the ghosts were gone, the shadows of past demons and men had vanished, and the cavern of the forges was silent and still.

“I know who has it, and she be through that door there. I bet me dwarven ars on it.”

“And how much praetell, is that worth exactly?” Gwenneth smiled.

“Not much, if we don’t kill this curse and the witch holdin’ it so.” He smiled back.

“Then let’s open that door, the one with all the skulls to greet us.” Saberrak huffed.

James paused, thinking he heard faint cries. It sounded like women, children too, but he saw nothing. He looked to the pile of ashes at the base of the steel forge, then it faded. He turned to follow the others, and noticed Shinayne’s blades were glowing as she held them low to her sides. He looked down, so was his. It was a strange glow, a white golden hue, almost as if the steel was catching light that was not there, or was, long ago. He blinked, and when he opened his eyes, it was gone.

Saberrak made a path, gently as he could, through the remains of long dead and charred dwarven bones. He stood before the doors, his eyes were glowing blue with faint flames, he felt it. He read the script on the door aloud, despite it being in the ancient Gimmorian tongue, rather than dwarven like the other passageways.

“
Sealed forever are the souls that pass, the judgement of Gimmor is held by
Arabashiel, child of God Yjaros an
d
….and….there is no name there, just markings where one used to be.” Saberrak snorted, not liking the impulses he was feeling from the black onyx slabs before him. He tugged the handles regardless, and they held fast.

“Which key, chosen one?” Zen held up the ring of keys
to the gray minotaur.

“Not Annar, surely not Alden. Not Seirena or Megos either. That leaves the triangle of vines, and the eyes on the twin moons, neither we are sure about.”

“The triangle was on Angeline, from Vallakazz, I doubt that symbol has anything to do with curses.” Gwenneth stepped over the skulls and bones, eyeing the massive doors. “Those other symbols, they are infernal and arcane blended, a Gimmorian script. They are wards of very hateful incantations, try the eyes, the one you are not sure about.”

“What is your reasoning, wizard.” Saberrak looked down to Gwenne, knowing they all watched his eyes now.

“Elimination, the ones we have used, plus the ones we are certain would have nothing to do with a door like this, equals an obvious fact. Use the one we know nothing of, trust me.”

“Sounds risky, and truth be spoke here, I do not follow ye’, but, I cannot argue either. Here goes it.” Zen put the key with the moons and feminine eyes into the lock.

The stone shuddered, the cavern shook from top to bottom, and the skulls skittered down the stairs from the vibrations. The onyx slab began to melt, as did the key, and they backed up quickly.
Zen tried to pull the key loose, but saberrak grabbed him and ran back.
The door
liqui
fied into molten black lava, eating away everything, including the stone stairs. Further back they went, as the cursed door became a sizzling puddle and then began to evaporate. The smell was acrid, the air was foul
coming from the green lit chamber beyond, and soon a golden stair was all that remained of the once dark passage. The tremors continued, like a rhythm in the deep underground. They looked to one another, and walked up the golden stairs.

A lone figure, not a ghost nor shadow, stood at the top to meet them. He was short, stocky, and carried but a crossed crescent shield. His beard was mangy yellow, his eyes glowed red, and he was covered in soot and filth from head to toe. A dwarf, a dwarf with horns sprouting from his forehead and jaws, with fanged teeth, and with a demonic appearance nodded to them as they came closer.

“Come, Arabashiel awaits.” He spoke deep and sad, as if he had nothing to live for, and turned to walk in.

“
Mudren, Mudren Sheldathain?”
Zen took a quick look, yes, his friends were all armed and ready. None of them moved in fact
, they waited for him
.

“Aye,
once I was.”
He kept walking. “But no more, you will s
ee, come inside. Best not keep H
er waiting.”