Dark shores of salvation, p.11
Dark Shores of Salvation, page 11
part #3 of Travails of the Dark Mage Series
Father Glayther’s face pursed like he had eaten a green persimmon. “Gyomias teaches that no man should be the property of another. He further teaches that we must care for all in our charge providing they are of good heart and character.”
“So you heal and succor those you conquer?”
“Say rather, liberate. We seek no lands to rule. We have come to these shores to root out the evil of the Unclean One. It is with great sadness that, as you say, innocents have been hurt and lives ended. They will be the martyrs that will rejoice in the court of Gyomias for all eternity.”
A fanatic’s fervor burned behind the priest’s eyes. He turned them to James. “You would be well advised to not stand in our way. These walls harbor unholy disciples. You must turn from your wicked ways.”
“This is a temple of Morcyth,” Father Keller said with no little amount of authority. “There are no unholy disciples.”
“Lies!” Father Glayther exclaimed as he rose to come off his cot.
Tinok was there in a flash. One hand on the priest’s chest thrust him back down onto the cot, another set a knife’s blade against his throat.
Time seemed to stand still as James waited for the knife to end the priest’s life. But the moment passed and Tinok pulled the knife back.
“Do that again and you will soon meet your god,” the knifer said.
Father Glayther scowled. “Gyomias will see to you all.”
“Can’t wait to meet him,” Tinok said.
Stepping back, Tinok returned his knife to its sheath and resumed his position by the door.
“Do you know who I am?” James asked.
The priest glowered at Tinok a moment longer then turned to James.
“It matters not who you are. You have allied with the Unclean One and for that you shall suffer the fate of such.”
“I see.”
Getting to his feet, James said, “I think we’re through for now.” He motioned for the others to follow him from the room.
Tinok remained with Father Glayther and closed the door once the others had left.
“I don’t think he knows who I am.”
“Neither do I,” Miko agreed. “There was complete lack of recognition when you asked.”
“That’s something,” Jiron said.
“It won’t matter much if when their forces arrive they are told by their agents that this temple has allied itself with the Unclean One.”
“They’ll seek to destroy us,” Father Keller said.
James nodded. “See if you can find out what other agents they may have in the city. Who they are and where they can be found.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“And keep him drugged.”
The priest turned to Jiron and nodded. “Scar has provided sufficient doses to last several days.”
“Good.”
James glanced to the door. “They are here to kill all mages.”
“So it would seem,” Jiron replied. “But why?”
Shrugging, James said, “Could be we are deemed a threat to their authority. Undisciplined and sociopathic mages have the capacity to do great harm. Maybe where they come from mages have done terrible things to bring this about.” He sighed. “But the why doesn’t really matter. We have a force that is bent on the destruction of all mages, I would think that would put me at the top of their list.”
Jiron chuckled. “I’d think you would be a list all to yourself.”
James glanced to his friend. “We have a day before their army arrives. The day after we can expect the attack to commence.”
From the stairwell came the sound of hurried feet racing down the steps. A moment later, Kip emerged.
“They’re coming!” he exclaimed as he ran toward them.
“Who?” Jiron asked.
Coming to a halt, he blurted out, “The enemy! Soldiers are even now marching from Lak Tir!”
He had anticipated many reactions upon deliverance of this news. Total lack of reaction hadn’t been among them. “Ships, too!”
“How do you know?” James asked.
“Father Vickor just told me,” he explained. “Said I should tell you.”
“Thank you, Kip,” Miko said.
The young apprentice looked from one to the other for any hint of excitement or anxiety but was sadly disappointed. His frenetic exuberance subsided in the face of non-reaction. “But they’re coming.”
“We know,” Father Keller replied. “They left Lak Tir earlier this morning. They’ll be here sometime tomorrow afternoon.”
“Then we should leave,” he urged.
“That is not Morcyth’s will.”
James turned to Miko. “Are you certain?”
“Oh, yes. Had he not wanted us to be here when the enemy arrived, I am sure we would have been long gone.” He paused a moment as if checking internally to ascertain the truthfulness of his statement, then nodded. “We are where we must be.”
“Any idea why?” Jiron asked.
“Not a clue,” Morcyth’s High Priest replied. “I am sure the why of it will become clear at the appointed time.”
“Igor wants us here,” James said, “as does Morcyth it seems.”
“Maybe we are meant to be a thorn in the enemy’s side?” Jiron surmised.
“Possibly.” James glanced to his friend. “Then we better get to it.”
“I shall take Azhan and see what our friends on the street can tell us,” Miko said.
“Can I come?” Kip asked hopefully.
“Are you not supposed to be learning the Morning Rituals with Father Vickor?”
“Well, yes. But with the enemy on the way…”
Miko gave him a sad grin. “Adventure will come your way all too soon I am afraid,” he said. “Best you were about your studies.”
Defeated, Kip hung his head. “Yes, Reverend Father.”
Miko pursed his lips for he rather disliked the title though it was his by right. Having been raised on the streets of Bearn, there were still times where the trappings of his new position felt alien and uncomfortable.
And with that, James and Jiron made their way up from the basement and after grabbing a quick bite in the kitchen, headed out to finish what they had started the evening before.
Traveling through the streets, he created a network of magical nodes, relays for the most part. So that when the enemy forces began their attack, he could simultaneously activate the spells lying dormant all along the perimeter outside the walls of Abu Dar.
It had to be set up in such a way that should tracker-doves be utilized, the bursts of power traveling from one to the next would be of short duration. That way the tracker-doves wouldn’t have time to pinpoint their source.
The mood on the street had transformed from one of anticipated worry to fear and panic. Everyone knew the enemy was on the way.
Their efforts were handicapped by the mass of people out and about, many having a change of heart about remaining in the city with an attack in the offing. Mobs of frantic people congregated at the gates demanded that they be opened and be allowed to flee. Guards refused, citing orders to keep them closed. More than a few of Abu Dar’s citizens had to be physically dealt with to maintain order.
It wasn’t at first clear why they refused to allow the people to flee. Considering the distance the attacking force had yet to travel, it was conceivable that if people fled now, they could keep ahead of the army. Yet, they were not allowed the opportunity.
By noon James had traveled around the inner perimeter of the outer wall, creating relay-nodes set to activate the spells lying in wait outside the walls. He had no sooner finished the last one and was on the way back to the temple to create the Master Node that would activate all the relay-nodes, when it became clear why the people had not been allowed to leave.
“You there!” a voice shouted in the northern tongue.
Pausing, James and Jiron turned to look back at a squad of guards heading their way.
“Yes?”
“By order of the Council, all able-bodied men are to report for deployment in the city’s defense,” the lead guard said. “Fall in with the others.”
Ten men, most looking to be sailors who had enjoyed an evening on the town a bit too much the night before, stood in a group at the rear. Ten guards held crossbows, five made sure the men in the group didn’t leave, the other five directed their deadly bolts toward James and Jiron.
Jiron rested a hand on a knife hilt.
James shook his head and faced the leader.
“We are sworn to protect the newly formed Temple of Morcyth, here to aid the people of Abu Dar in their hour of peril,” James explained. “We cannot go with you.”
“Look,” the leader said. “I don’t want to hear no excuses. We got our orders. You can take it up with our Captain.”
“Either let us go,” Jiron said, “or there will be fewer people defending the walls.”
The guards laughed. Two men against five crossbowmen, not to mention the rest armed with swords? Preposterous.
“Now, we don’t need to kill anyone,” James said. Spying a flatbed wagon rolling down the road toward them stacked with barrels secured with but a pair of ropes, he figured a way to diffuse the situation. “But you really must understand that our first loyalty is to the temple and not the city. During and after the attack, you may very well be glad my friend and I are at the temple to aid in the healing and succor of the injured.”
The guard frowned. “We need people on the walls and you are going to be on the walls or by the gods, we’ll kill you where you stand.”
As the wagon pulled alongside the guards, James sent a micro burst of magic toward the ropes holding the barrels, severing them with his assassin spell. Now free, barrels rolled off the wagon and into the crossbow-wielding guards.
The men leapt out of the way. Half of those they had already dragooned into service took advantage of this distraction to flee. When the commotion was over, James and Jiron were gone.
Chapter Ten
Along with the manor house and the warehouse-converted-to-Temple, were three auxiliary buildings. Two had been converted to makeshift stables; the third, storage for their gear and supplies. Among those supplies were Scar and Potbelly’s packs and bags containing their magical paraphernalia.
One box contained five spheres that would hold magically captured exotic animals. Their hope had been to capture and exhibit one of the hell hounds encountered during the war back at The Pits. But, all they had managed to get was one of the stalker creatures from the Waste. The remaining four red and white spheres remained empty.
“I tell you this venture is not what we had planned.”
“Oh, stop your groaning,” Potbelly said. “We have a creature unlike anything back home. It alone will be worth the trip.”
“What if it’s dead?” Scar turned to his friend. “Just because the dog Alexander captured then immediately released was still alive, there is no reason to believe that the stalker we captured will survive in that sphere until we return.”
“We could always let it out and make sure…,” Potbelly said.
Scar cursed and began a tirade about wasting a sphere.
“Okay then,” Potbelly said. “We have no choice but to trust in Alexander. His magic has worked as planned so far.”
Scar paced along the storage area. “How are we going to find and capture anything if all we do is sit in this cursed town?” Pacing a bit more, he added, “James must be out of his mind to remain here with an army on the way.”
“When a god tells you to do something, you do it.”
Spitting in derision, Scar commenced to relate in great detail how he felt about meddling gods.
Potbelly sat back and ate a strip of jerky until Scar wound down.
“This isn’t over yet. We may yet get our hell hound.”
“We better,” Scar warned. “That’s all I got to say; we better.”
Getting up, he slapped Scar on the back. “How about an ale?”
“Now you’re talkin’.”
Truth be told, they were as much hiding out in the storage area as inventorying their equipment. Scar had no intention of pushing another broom. When they left, they did so by the back door that exited to the rear of the temple’s courtyard to avoid detection. Twenty feet away stood a stout wooden door affording a discreet passage from the courtyard to the streets of Abu Dar.
They hadn’t gone twenty feet before a local emerged at a run from a side street farther down. The man, mid-twenties and clearly frantic, raced toward them. He paused only a moment as he approached, spoke animatedly in the Empire’s tongue, then resumed his frantic pace as he fled down the street.
The pair watched until the man disappeared into an alley.
“The impending siege has everyone on edge,” Potbelly commented.
Scar focused on the alleyway wherein the man had vanished. “Wonder what he was trying to tell us?”
Potbelly shrugged and they continued on their way.
They closed most of the distance to where the man had originally appeared when a group of twenty armed men emerged. Some held crossbows, the others had swords and all but two were in the uniform of the City Guard. The two non-uniformed men were clearly in distress, and looked to be under arrest.
One of the crossbow-wielding guards saw the pair and hollered to the lead guard who brought their group to a halt.
Scar and Potbelly halted too, unsure as to what interest these men would have in them. Could it have something to do with the mayhem surrounding Hikai’s rescue?
The lead guard spoke in the Empire’s tongue across the fifty feet of street between the two groups as he motioned for the pair to approach.
“What do you think?” Potbelly asked.
“I think I would rather not see what he wants.”
When they did not immediately move to obey, the leader turned to his men and spoke. Six crossbowmen moved forward.
Scar jerked his head toward the mouth of a nearby alley. “Let’s get out of here.”
“I’m with you.”
As one, they turned and darted for the alley’s semi-shadowy interior. The light from the newly risen sun had yet to push back night’s remnants. Shouting erupted from behind as men raced in pursuit.
A bolt hit the stone of the building to their right as they reached the end of the alley. A shouted command accompanied the attack but they paid little heed. Rounding the corner to the street beyond, they raced headlong toward a second squad of soldiers. Like the ones before, they too had several civilians in tow.
“Don’t stop!” Scar yelled.
Lowering his head, he hit the lead guard with his shoulder, knocking the man back into his fellows.
Potbelly grabbed the shirt of another and pulled him along as together, they knocked down a line of crossbowmen. He let go of the man as he worked to maintain his balance and continued on.
Out the other side of the now-entangled mass of legs, arms and curses, emerged the two Pit Masters.
“There,” Potbelly said, indicating the open door before them.
Two crossbow bolts struck the sides of the door as a third accompanied them through the doorway before Scar slammed the door shut. He threw the securing bar into place.
“What is going on?” he said, leaning against the door.
A moment later fists banged upon the door and a voice in the Empire’s tongue obviously demanded that it be opened.
That was when they turned to find an elderly couple standing framed in the inner doorway leading to the home’s interior.
Scar gave them a slight bow, said, “Excuse us,” and then raced through a side door toward a narrow hallway.
“I don’t know,” Potbelly said. “But we need to get back to the temple and fast.”
Scar couldn’t have agreed more.
Down the hallway they ran, then to the room at the back and the window overlooking the yard at the back of the home.
Potbelly flipped the latch and swung the window open wide. Another bolt shattered a pane of glass before the window could open all the way. A glance back revealed the couple had opened the door allowing the guards to continue their pursuit.
Once through the window, they shot for another alleyway not far down the other side of the street. Racing in they didn’t slow until they emerged from the other side.
There they found one of the many plazas sprinkled about Abu Dar. It was fairly crowded, not so much with shoppers as with people standing in knots gossiping about the impending attack.
Slowing so as not to attract attention, they glanced back. Not seeing any immediate pursuit, they moved into the crowd and tried to blend in. They spied a trio of the locals they had gambled with the night before and made their way over.
The three men were deep in conversation and noticed their approach as they reached them. Conversation ceasing, the trio stared at Scar and Potbelly with far less than open-armed welcome.
“What news about the enemy?” Scar asked rather nonchalantly.
The men just stared at the pair.
Potbelly nudged his friend in the arm and then jerked his head back toward where they had entered the plaza. Several guards stood looking out over the crowd.
“Well, hope the guards can give them what for,” Potbelly said. He and Scar then walked at a relaxed, non-hurried pace toward one of the three streets connected to the plaza. Before they could reach it, five guards emerged. They darted to their left to avoid being seen and found themselves near the stoop of a rather well-to-do townhouse.
Scar hurried up the three steps to the double door and found it unlocked. “Come on,” he said as he opened it.
Potbelly hurried up the steps and slipped through. Scar followed and quickly shut it. Moving to the windows abutting the door frame, they looked out to see if the guards were coming their way.
The five emerging from the street they had planned to use entered the plaza and headed toward its center. Of the other guards that had chased them into it, they could no longer be seen.
