The Exodus Sagas: Book I - Of Spiders And Falcons Read Online Free PDF

his hands, recalling the blue eyes of a man chained. He pulled from memories too fresh the vision of Arlinne’s death, beheadings, brutality, and utter defeat. Avegarne the ogre king’s voice and haunting roar echoed in his mind when he closed his eyes, pushing him to bring more fear into his chest despite being safe in the keep. Staring at the brown stone floor and banners of Southwind and his kingdom that hung in the room, James drew Arlinne’s blade and thought of putting it through his chest as opposed to telling the details to the people of his home. He could not do it, with a resigned sigh he sheathed the sword. His breath stopped as he heard footsteps and the quick shut of the heavy doors of Mederris Hall, muffled voices insisting on seeing or hearing him were silenced with a slam . “James, please sit. How are you feeling this day? Can you talk?” The voice was calm, but hurried. It was Marcus Mederris, a close friend to the late Lord Arlinne and ambassador to the church of Alden for Southwind. Father Marcus had always been a great supporter of the Andellis family. A truer confidant James could not have asked for in his state.
    “I cannot face the children, especially Arlinne’s, my lord. I cannot speak to the people and the families.” James began to tear inside, guilt and remorse taking turns on his heart.
    “You say what you can, young man, but I need to know how many others will be returning.” The man pushed on, wearily rubbing his shaved head and drawing his hand across his smooth, round face. The young knight shook his head and looked at Marcus with dripping eyes of sorrow, unable to speak. “Then, James, how many are hostage?” fear and concern, perhaps a bit of disbelief, crept into his insistent words this time. Again, James shook his head, eyes pleading for a stop to the questions, lip puckering as he fought back an unrivaled stream of sadness. “Tell me they are not all dead, James Andellis, tell me something .” Now Lord Mederris seemed as frustrated as he was fearful with his line of interrogation. The young knight lowered his head as he nodded.
    “All of them my Lord.” was his only reply. A long silence followed, hours it seemed. The pious old man lowered his head as well, reaching into his belt pouch, producing a golden falcon’s head medal. James stared at it, knowing it was an award of the highest honor in Chazzrynn, chivalry, sacrifice and bravery to defend the kingdom, honor in battle. He did not deserve this, did not want it, and there was nothing in him that thought of reward or admiration for what happened this past week.
    “This”, Lord Marcus Mederris stated, as he pinned it to the young knight’s tunic on the left shoulder over his heart, “was for Arlinne T’Vellon, Lord of Southwind, upon his return victorious. King Mikhail sent it two weeks prior, assured of a new age and victory in the western waste. I think you should have it.”
    “You are bribing me to give answers my Lord, and with all due respect, I have nothing to say that has not been said already. You want me to give peace and reason, but there is none. This gesture is empty, and I have to make peace with the thousand men that lay dead, food for wolves, or worse.” James stood up, “With your permission, Father Marcus, I will take my leave.” Not waiting for reply, nor caring, the young knight turned and walked to the doors. The leaders of Southwind and of Chazzrynn had made a terrible mistake, and many men had died for it, too many, he thought. Now, instead of retaliation, restitution, or revenge, they wanted to make a hero so that their error was overlooked and forgotten, perhaps to cover up or invade again, and James Andellis would have none of it. “By the way Father Marcus, I saw a lone wolf on the battlefield as we charged. I could have warned them...”
    “Nonsense, James! Stop the childish old wives tales! This is serious, that has nothing to do with what happened, and you know this.”