The Exodus Sagas: Book II - Of Dragons And Crowns (2 page)

Had I told her of the people I know, my
past, the great rulers and spiritual places, any of it, she may be alive tonight
to share the rainstorm with us, and see our son grow. In my grief, I
demo
lished the shrine to the Gods I
had begun to build, and placed her grave on top of it, out of spite. The same flames of incineration, the same anger that knows no b
ounds, and the same power in my
veins crushed the stone shrine
s
to dust in moments.
That same raw emotional and arcane power was used many times before to deal wicked
ness and revenge, and led to my
curse of thousands of years.
I hoped and
expected the God of mercy to interve
ne, the God of magic to stop me
, the God
s of strength or war to hear it
, or maybe they all would see what the
y had done and change it
. Nothing occurred, no
signs, no visits, they leave me
to mortality, alone, to raise a son.
A
false given surname to cloak my former identity, one that my late wife now bears
in the epitaph upon her grave.
Azarris
, I
thought,
whose
name was this before me that I know nothing of and pass to my feeble and fated attempts at a family?
Divine intervention to disguise an
d hide, never to heal or help I brewed. I
waited one moment more for a sign that the G
ods were listening or seeing my
pain, but stillness won out beyond sympathy.

I
paced back inside, the storm coming of no interest without
someone to share it with. Sitting in the
oak a
nd leather chair, I mourned staring at my
hand-and-a-half sword, ancient, engraved, and deeply enchanted over two thousand years ago. Its straight blade was still perfect, all the way down to the ramskull crosspiece. The curved black horns stretched out either direction on the guard, ruby eyes in the skull, and the grip and pommel resembled a leather wrapped vertebrae. It looked imposing,
hanging above the mantle, and I
had thought of using it, at le
ast on a tree if not myself, to relieve some of the guilt and sorrow. I heard him cry out in the night
,
my boy deciding not to sleep again
, the thunder rolling in the distance.

I raised my
ex
hausted and irritated son to my
arms, his soft blonde hair wet from tears a
nd sweat. I
danced and hummed alone in the castle, taking Allessandeir by all the mirrors, tapestries, and pictures on the walls, soothing him back to calm. He touched all the tapestries of dragons, griffons, knights, and s
ymbols of the great kingdoms. My
boy grabbed at the faded blue tapestry, nearly pulling it from the gray stone wall. The decoration was of a griffon, rising up on its hind legs, wings spread out. “You like griffons do you? Or do you prefer
dragons
?”

“Grfins dada.” h
is little voice muffl
ed from laying his head on my
shoulder.

“Yes, griffons, I like them too. Should I
tell
you about them?” my voice cheering up, not that I
was feeling good
about much the last year, but I had to, for my
son.
He still did not understand, nor I truly, that his mother was gone, never to return. The nursemaids sufficed, yet I wondered. He had been playing outside more and more lately, I think he is searching for her at but a year old. I had not the answers for him, not yet.

“Grfins dada.” my
boy, sleep coming again to war with him, repeated himself
in comfort of my embrace
and voice, his blue eyes battling
their own eyelids to stay open and
stay
awake
.

“I know a woman, an
elf
that is, that rides griffons. Did you know
that?” receiving no response, I
looked
at his
eyes, expecting them to be
closed. They were not, for my
boy had heard the word
“story”
again, and that me
ant hours of talking for me. I relinquished, feeling I
could use someone to talk to at this moment anyway.

“I told you of Lady Shinayne T’Sarrin, from Kilikala, remember? Of course you do, you are a genius like your father. She sailed as a captain in the elven navy, you already know that. But, did you know she was also the captain of the Kilikala Griffon Wing
for a time?” I
tried to rec
all where I had left off in the
tales.
Keeping thoughts of missing my
wife
away by escaping in tales to my son, the best defense I
had found.

“
Ahhh,
that
we haven’t gotten to yet. Very well, let me tell you more of Shinayne then. Harlaheim was cold and wet from late winter rains. Enemies seemed
to be all around, but not
found. The shadows were deep and long from the high rooftops of the decadent city at night, and the docks were not any more welcoming. Several times Lady Shinayne, as she was known back then, had encountered those seeking the scroll of Annar and her friends. And several times she and the horned gladiator had taken them down in the mysterious streets of Harlaheim. The elven swordswoman was the deadliest blade in the city, some say the kingdom
at that time. With the Cardinal away in Shanador, the kingdom was suffering under the rule of…
oh I forget
, there have been so many
rulers
in Harlaheim
.
” I looked to see the expected sleep had taken my boy away into dreams. As I gazed, his eyes opened and met mine with an eagerness at more of whatever I was planning to share.

“Very well, young Alessandeir, a long night indeed we have ahead of us.” stumbling for my place in the story, or for a beginning to where I had left it previous, I sat in the oak and leather chair in front of the fire. The ruby eyes of the ornamental blade, my blade, stared as if wanting to hear as well. “
Alas, she was remembering fonder times of the heart I believe on the night that it happened
. You see my son, Shinayne was not always the b
old leader that she is today. Deep in the forests of mystical Gualidura, having run away again...”

Introduction

Shinayne I
I:I

Sesperian Forest, Gualidura 302 AD

“To see fate unravel is a blessing of the heavens. To interpret what one sees and pass it on is a gift of the Gods. To truly understand the will behind what one sees and says, is divine serenity and a sacred service, which few in this world posess.”
-Transcripts from an unmarked elven tomb outsid
e of Haven Glen.

“Your father, King Naladra, would be most displ
eased if he knew you were here
Shinayne. More to my concern is his demeanor towards Gualidura should he assume my lack of action toward sending you home by the quickest route at my disposal and
not properly
reprimanding young Lavress here
. Where is Nathaniel, your bodyguard?” Queen Ganidaea Chaldre walked slowly and gracefully as she spoke, admiring the spirit of the young displaced noble of Kilikala. She had little love for Naladra Hanaira, the King of Kilikala. The daughters of the T’Sarrins fared far better with the adopted mother, Queen Eoehrina, than the adopted father in her wise opinion. Still, her favored hunter, Lavress Tilaniun, could not be found smuggling highborne nobles from the elven homeland
into her forest realm
,
not with the eyes and ears of the Hedim Anah
secretely
upon him.
Rebellion and love
, she thought,
would be marked against him in the eyes of those that secretely protect the elven race.
The shaman queen waited for the protests of young Sh
inayne
.

Shinayne bowed silently and perfectly, as her noble elven upbringing would demand in the presence of a queen. She noticed her lover do the same, and since the question was directed at her, Lavress was obviously waiting for her to speak for herself. “Queen Ganidaea of Gualidura, should it be your wish to side with a man who is not truly my father and see me sent off against
the will of my beating heart?” h
er highborne elven dialect was more eloquent and soft than the wood elven tongue, yet the language was understood and recognized with ease by any of elven blood. Shinayne stared with her aquamarine eyes at the tribal and savage grace
that
the painted and tattooed monarch of Gualidura displayed. Her face was decorated with deep indigo and b
lack markings of the fey and the
shamanistic achievements with he
r people. The noble elf
knew she
was
well over two centuries old, more than twice her own age. Yet her deep green eyes held a youth to them behind the feathered fetishes and markings of a much older elven queen.

“Of course not young T’Sarrin, for I knew of your parents long before your current guardians took the t
hrone of Kilikala, and I would never stand in the way of love.
I am simply full of curiosity
at your intentions in my realm. Are they of defiance to the
ruling
Hanaira’s or purely out of an unbridled
love and commitment to my
hunter, Lavress?”
Ganidaea walked once more through the courtyard of the Sesperian Forest, her naked footsteps leaving no marks in the grass surrounded by red pines that stretched further up than elven eyes could see. Her braziers lit the beshadowed meeting place with fires of green and blue
littered with smoke from the exotic
incense
burning within
. The shaman queen absorbed the air of the forest, the fey aromas, the closene
ss to the Goddess Mother Seirena
, and even
soaked in the daytime shadows
that the gargantuan and ancient trees blessed the grove with. She could sense things here, even from others far away, as she was centered along a deep root of her faith and power in the divine, the fey
,
and her arcane gifts as a result of whatever beautiful power emanated in this wooded abode. She watched the young noble from Kilikala plan her
carfeful
response
.

“If I may, your highness?” Lavress, feathers and hair tangled blonde down his shoulders, requested the privelage to speak from his queen.

“You may not.”
Ganidaea did not blink and kept her determined yet
soft gaze on Shinayne T’Sarrin, wanting only for the young elven noble to speak her heart and mind.

“Your majesty, I cannot answer your question clearly.” Shinayne blurted from tearing eyes and a trembling lip.

“And why is that young lady of Kilikala?”

“I love Lavress, he has given me a secret love for decades that I have kept from all, just as he has. Yet I fear you think me rebellious and young, therefore you may argue any response as your age and wisdom is far beyond mine.
”

“I assure you
,
young highborne, that I will hear you out. To the mortal world of men and others, love is but a thing. I understand its power, as do
es
our race as a whole. I am indeed concerned for your fu
ture and that of Lavress. F
ear not Shin
ayne, I will listen without passing judgement
.” h
er pointed ears perked at the sound of relief in the breaths of both the savage hunter of her realm
and the elven girl that was at one time
set toward the throne of Kilikala.

“
My adopted family has stolen my throne, set regulation that I do not care to abide, and they have not my love or heart. So I stand to fight, to rebel, to feel love and be loved. I have learned the way of an elven man’s swords, flown as captain of the griffon wing
army
, and crossed any boundary of earth, water, or air to be alongside Lavress Tilaniun. With, or without your approval your majesty, or the approval of the king and queen of Kilikala
, I stand in love with him
. I mean no disrespect, yet I will not follow those that seek to control passion and root it out like a cancer. I will follow my love, my heart, and will cross word or blade with any who would try and sever what he
and I share.” Shinayne
was trembling, had not realized that she had walked three paces closer
to the queen of the wood elves. H
er passion was an angry yet determined force that she had just orally unleashed in the sacred grove of Gualidura.

“Well spoken and powerful young highborne. Your golden skin and hair seem to come
alive when you speak those words
of passion and defiance. However, does Lavress feel the same? Or do you fight a one sided rebellion of the heart?” Queen Ganidaea concentrated on the grass and roots beneath her feet, felt the arcane and fey energies listen to her subconscious whims, and a slow forming throne rose from below, glowed and grew green and lush with red-brown vines and bark, then sparkled into
existence in
the low lit grove. The wood elf queen sat gracefully, now eyeing young Lavress with her green glare of majesty and wisdom.