The Exodus Sagas: Book II - Of Dragons And Crowns (4 page)

“…how far away you may be from me.”
Those words trailed off from somewhere across her mind, as if permanently spoken
by her lover
when she thought of him.

Shinayne T’Sarrin wiped the rain from her cheek slowly, her eyes and focus coming back from the nighttime daydreams of Lavress Tilaniun. His embrace, his kiss, the long words, even the unspoken ones haunted her spirit with longing and loneliness. Her breath let out without noise, her hands gripped her blades tight, and the canopy of stone still had her hidden fr
om any but the most keen of predators
. “Where are they?” the elven noble whispered to herself as her gaze inched across the outstretched city before her eyes.

Stone shingles dripped the rain th
at had poured half of the forty
days she had been in Harlaheim. Breezes of warmer air from across the Agarian mainland kept the snow at bay in late winter, but the dampness of the city could not be ignored. Clouds hid Gimmor and Carice, the green and white moons, allowing only the hint of a shimmer that they were there. Cascading softly and constant, illuminated by the oil lanterns of yellow and orange, the rains gave life to the dark and decaying metropolis. Arcane lights glowed on many a tower and wealthy manorhouse, while golden lights of holy men decorated the cathedrals and churches. Most of the city held buildings no less than three stories high, and some as high as twenty,
such as the tower of Kalzarius and
Castle L’Herrim. While impressive in architecture, it gave the city much more shadow, an elaborate darkness, and a danger that only those who knew of it could understand. Shinayne knew well the dangers of Harlaheim, for
tonight
she was one of them.

The highborn
e
elven swordswoman had left the minotaur with the ten trained guards of Kalzarius, for they were the net. Shinayne was the bait,
albeit deadly bait. Her alluring aquamarine eyes, golden skin and hair, and lithe form had distracted many a would-be swordsman on her trail
into false moves
. She and Saberrak the gray had been follo
wed by spies of King Richmond the Second
, agents of the Bishop of Harlaheim, elves from Shalokahn, and even local thieves guilds. What they wanted, they had not caught, the assassins of the infamous White Spider. They wished to make an example of someone in that organization, find out who was sending them, and perhaps a little interrogation. Not one spider brand burned in flesh, not one shoulder marked with the symbol, yet Shinayne knew they were here, watching and waiting.

Her keen pointed ears and elven senses traced the steps of a man coming in and out of the Taverne Dra’ Gouin on the corner of Gendry Street below, far below. The noble elf was perched atop the bridge between the old Library Fastine and the Cathedral of Saint Gavriel, five stories above the cobblestone and entrenched in shadow. He had entered four times now, and was waiting for someone, she knew he was not there for drink or merriment. Human, Harlian for sure, and carrying a rapier. Not uncommon for anyone out this late at night, save that he was looking up at the unlit bridge as if he knew she was there. Three more men came from the alley behind the popular tavern, dressed the same, black cloaks, leather armor, soft boots and hidden blades. Shinayne smiled, seeing them head for the spiral stairs next to the canal.

Her curved elven longblade and shortblade out in a flash, the elf dashed across the bridge, toward the stone deck that jutted from the side of its fifth of eleven floors. Shinayne was hurrying away, leading them to where she wanted them to go. Around the corner, she paused, peering to her rear, watching as they came
up the stairs of the cathedral
and stopped at the bridge. Five now there were, all dressed the same, all looking for her. The stealthy swordswoman wondered how t
hey were tracking her so easily
at night, in the rain, her making not a sound. She waited until
they started across the bridge
then ran down the spiraling stairs to the city streets from the Library of Fastine. She passed the gargoyle statues that adorned the library, most of them reading books or scrolls in their stone carved eternities. She looked up from Gendry Street, seeing her pursuers at the top, on their way down
, cutting her off from Saberrak the gray
. She smiled again, and darted into the alley, sprinting for the pier.
Hopefully they would follow, hopefully Saberrak was en route
and would see her change direction. H
opefully they had some information on who was sending them.

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The docks were quiet, late at night most of the men were busy in hidden gambling houses or deep in the embraces of ill repute, sometimes both. The Bronze Harpy and her crew had left a week ago to head north to the port of Cordella in Caberra, since heading back to Chazzrynn would not fare them much till winter was well past. Shinayne walked, slowly, down the east pier toward the lighthouse. She wanted to see how far these men would follow her
, she needed to stall long enough for the soldiers of Kalzarius and her minotaur friend to arrive
, if they arrived
.
The local gangs in Harlaheim would be right on her, knowing their city well, as would any drunks or fameseekers. The White Spider would be cautious, as would any other agent of the government or churches.
The elven swordswoman stopped
and turned quickly, swords out
still
, letting her black cloak fall from her golden curls and pointed ears. Talking, discussing, six now in their group, and they waited. And she waited. Long minutes, more perhaps passed, and she hoped they could see her smile and stare from the five hu
ndred feet between them.
“That’s it boys, keep talking. I have all night, and have gone a month without rest before, doubtful you will last that long.”
Shinayne T’Sarrin twirled her blades, slowly, patiently awaiting her pursuers
alone on the docks at night
.

She paced her steps, thirty steps to the lighthouse doors, eight steps across the width of the pier, and her eyes noted the support beams jutting out of the cold waters. She stood between two of them, and watched as the men came down the stretch of old sodded wooden planks to greet her. Three across, then two, and one walked five paces behind the rest, all with rapiers out
yet cloaked ever so slightly
, save the man in the rear. She watched their movements, her keen elven senses picking up all the small details. The two men in the middle had their hands on daggers behind their cloaks. Two of the three in front were young and inexperienced, their grip on the flashing blades was
tight, their hands
white with too much
nervous
pressure. The man in the rear was anxious, yet restrained himself, meaning he had orders he had to follow. She picked her targets, went over her steps and distancing, and never blinked nor moved as she surveyed them all.

“You there, elf w
oman, you are coming with us.” t
he dark haired young swordsman in the front spoke up from behind his hooded cloak. His rapier was out and low, twenty paces or less away.

The highborn
e
elf looked at the edge, seeing three or four nicks in it that had been mostly sharpened and polished out. “I am not the one you want to begin your
career practicing on, human.” s
he could tell he was green, young, and hesitant. Her blades stayed low as well from this distance, staring at the man in the back. Her only concern was him, his arms
resting across his chest and staring back at her. The elf could sense no fear from him, the only one who seemed confidant and was not readying a sword.

“You are alone
girl, far from the safety of the tower you hide in. Don’
t make me take you the hard way.
I assure you it will be a re
gret you may never live down.” h
is Harlian accent, heavy on the vowels and slower speech, came through as he tried to intimidate her. The three men walked closer, blades tipped at waist level now, and the two from behind them followed.

“
Let us see
about that then.” Shinayne stepped forward, swords twirling and up to a crisp on guard. Her vision caught their breath, the off hand daggers from the two in the middle, and the stone stillness of the man in the rear. She bowed slightly, playfully, opening her stance and arms just enough to taunt.

Three
heavy
rapiers, pointed straight blades with curved and weaved steel hilts of black, lunged in unison at the elven woman, and all three fell short as she backed up one step. Again, they redoubled their steps, lunging once more, attempting to plunge the tips of their swords into the quick stepping elf. She backed up anothe
r step, then lunged forward her
self, cutting across all three blades with a cut from her curved longblade, and following with a rapid stab of the point of the shortblade. The killer on the left dropped to the pier holding his chest, trying to conceal a moan of agony and the pain of a surprise cut from nowhere in the night. She spun full circle, parrying the incoming cuts and ripostes from her two enemies. She ducked and rolled backwards, under flashes of steel, and turned halfway on her heel, slashing out as she moved. The two men dropped, their thighs split to the bone. Shinayne was facing the two men in the middle, staring and smiling, then plunged her elven swords into the chests of her fallen foes. The elven swordswoman stood up, just in time to bring her blades in fro
nt of her face in a cross guard. A
dagger flew end over end, deflecting off her weapons. A second projectile spun toward her chest, and she turned sideways, hearing it land in the dark waters of the bay.

“Bad manners gentlemen, throwing knives at a
lady
.”
s
he did not wait to see if they had another dagger somewhere, stepping quickly to the two men that had thrown the knives so cowardly. Her focus was still on the stoic human man in the rear, who had not moved a muscle.

Whipping rapiers screamed steel through the rain, unable to strike the deft elven woman as she parried and dodged their every trained attack. Her curved blade teased a lunge, which they attempted to stop with a
chop and a flick of
their wrists to disarm her,
then she turned right. As they followed through, chasing with their swords, Shinayne turned back left, arriving inbetween them. Two quick parries from her blades, the black clad assassins thrust their rapiers at her midsection. She caught the blades with her crossguards, twirled over once, then struck down and up in one rapid motion. As their rapiers hit the wooden planks, her curved swords punctured their ribs deep, simultaneously on each side of her. Shock and
pain swept over their pale countenances
and dark eyes as they fell limp onto their knees, then to their faces, dead.
She removed her weapons from the insides of the men, never leaving eye contact with the hooded man.

“Impressive, for a
woman
. I traced your
every
step, your
every
move. I just studied your form, elf, and I have seen
every
weakness.” t
he man stared, his blue eyes and paler complexion revealed as he withdrew his hood from his cloak. He touched the pommels of his rapier and a shortsword on his right side as well. Form fitting leather armor and gauntlets, young and clean shaven, his brown hair short and wavy. He smiled and stared at the elf.

“That was practice, boy,
nothing more
.” Shinayne moved closer, slowly, as she felt no need to hurry at this point. The man, for a human, was gorgeous. His eyes, his smile, perfectly smooth and trim face, all seemed alluring and deadly at the same time. It would be a shame to kill this one.
Shinayne looked for Saberrak but saw nothing in the constant darkness nor heard anything but waves rolling into wood.

His rapier and shortsword out in a flash, his steps pe
rfectly circling, mimicking her motions
. “I have trained since I was seven years old, elf, and never lost a duel. How
would
you like to be buried?” he laughed a slightly overconfident chuckle, his white teeth glimmering in the showering shadows of night.

“And your name,
assassin
?” her sarcasm dripped with a smile to match his own. Shinayne figured him in his early twenties. Maybe fifteen years of practice she thought, which was impressive for a human. Her steps circled back, swords rising to on guard, her curved longblade forward and shortblade back to her left side.

“Alec Silverblade, at your service and demise, Shinayne T’Sarrin of Kilikala.
Ready
?” h
is intimidations were well trained, his eye contact, his words, even his movements showed perfection
and confidence
.

“That is
Lady
Shinayne to you, young one. And I have been practicing over a century, but I am sure you already
knew that
.
What else, pratell, does the White Spider inform you of?
”
t
he elf stopped, waiting for his
first move, turning her heels on the wet pier, knowing exactly where she was and how many steps she had in any direction.