The Mists of Sorrow: The Morcyth Saga Book Seven (2 page)

Floating upon an unfelt breeze, it hovers
above her body at the center of the vibration. The resonance of the
vibration begins to change as it works to warp the resonance to
match that of the plane the spirit originated from. Once the two
resonances synchronize, the four priests unleash a wave of power
that intersects the spirit.

With the waves of power pouring into it, the
spirit begins sinking into the ground. As it comes into contact
with the ground, the ground itself begins to glow a deep dark
purple. The purplish glow expands until the spirit is completely
within the ground. Now twenty feet across, the glowing area comes
to within inches of each of the four priests.

Ozgirath sends forth his senses yet again
and finds that the barrier between this plane and Dmon-Li’s has
been reduced to almost nothing. Satisfied, he then sends his senses
up to the sky. It takes but a moment to find that which is required
to punch through from this world to the other.

In seconds, it makes its appearance as it
hits the atmosphere. A greenish ball of fire arcs through the sky
on a trajectory to the purplish glowing area. It leaves a brilliant
trail of bright green light across the sky as it hurtles toward the
ground. In the blink of an eye, it strikes dead center to the
glowing area.

The energy from the force of the impact is
absorbed by the magic of the four priests. Taking the energy from
his priests, Ozgirath opens the way.

Suddenly, from the purplish area a hand
emerges. A mammoth hand which is followed by the rest of the
creature and soon one of the monstrosities from the plane of
Dmon-Li stands upon the sand next to Ozgirath.

As the next monstrosity makes its way to
this world, several shadows pass through as well. Again and again
more monstrosities pass through until six stand upon the sand, over
a dozen shadows move about the area. With the number he requires,
Ozgirath begins closing the way. Several more shadows slip through
before he reaches the point where the void will close on its
own.

At that point the magic from the priests
stills, and the High Priest of Dmon-Li walks from the battlefield.
Behind him come the two warrior priests, the four priests and the
monstrosities summoned. Most of the shadows come with him but a few
wander away into the desert.

Filled with a sense of triumph he returns to
the portal which will take him and the others back to Ith-Zirul.
When again the Shroud of Killian blinds the giant’s eye, his lord
will come.

Far away in the desert, Zyrn stands in fear.
The greenish star hurtling through the sky sent a premonition of
impending doom through him. Others gather near him as they ponder
the ramifications of such an omen. It doesn’t take them long to
decide not to wait for the coming of dawn. As quickly as they can,
they hitch up the horses to the wagons and hurry back to their
village. All thoughts of returning to the battlefield for the rest
of the booty are gone.

James stands on the battlements of Al-Ziron.
Once the northern fortress of the Empire it now protects the
southern border of Madoc. Stripped of all but a handful of men, it
fell quickly when the forces of the Alliance led by Lord Pytherian
arrived.

Illan’s Black Hawk banner whips in the wind
atop the highest spire of the fort signifying that Black Hawk has
taken up residence here in Al-Ziron at the request of Lord
Pytherian. He now bears the title ‘Keeper of the Southern Reaches’,
which effectively makes him a nobleman. Aside from the new title
and the nobility it confers, he has been given large tracts of land
in the surrounding countryside for his own. Most of the land he
plans to divide among those Raiders who have been with him since
the War of Barrowman’s Field.

Illan and the others arrived here shortly
after the fort fell two days ago. Shortly after their arrival Lord
Pytherian had asked Illan and his men to take over the southern
defense. Madoc is woefully short of men and Black Hawk has the only
sizeable force which could be spared for the duty.

James glances out over the battlements as he
gazes at the long shadows stretching across the countryside with
the approach of dusk. He’s still not feeling his normal self. The
backlashes of power he experienced during the final moments of the
battle with the mages have left him weak and achy. About the only
magical thing he can do now is his orb. Also with the insistence of
Jiron, he uses his mirror to hunt for Tinok but that has yielded
nothing. Every time he’s tried, the mirror has remained blank.

After relating what transpired in his
vision, Jiron has been most anxious to find his friend.
Unfortunately all James has managed to determine is that Tinok lies
somewhere to the south. How far or where exactly he couldn’t pin
down due to the fact the only magical location spell that works is
the cloth to point his whereabouts.

Within the walls of Al-Ziron the wounded
have been brought, both those of Madoc as well as the Empire. Miko,
along with Brother Willim and the two remaining members of the
Hand, have been among the wounded and ministering what aid they can
since they entered the gate of Al-Ziron. Other healers work with
them, but they use practical methods rather than magic.

As far as the Empire soldiery still out in
the field, here around Al-Ziron there are no forces of any size. To
the east, with help from the Kirkens, the Empire has been thrown
back to the previous border. To the west the battle still rages but
it’s only a matter of time before the Empire is forced completely
out of Madoc.

“You okay?” a woman’s voice asks.

Turning around, he finds Tersa walking
toward him.

“Better,” he replies. “Still not great.” He
can see the weariness in her eyes, eyes that have witnessed too
much battle. “How about you?”

Shrugging, she gazes over the battlements to
the west. With the last rays of the setting sun shining upon her
face she says, “I just want to go home.”

He understands how she feels. However, the
area between here and Kern is not safe. There are still roving
bands of Empire forces on the move, not to mention one or two bands
of mercenaries out looking for mischief. The southern route to
Cardri is not safe at the moment.

The Merchant’s Pass, according to all
reports, has yet to reopen and probably won’t until the hostilities
further subside. So that leaves the northern route through Dragon’s
Pass. The area due north of Al-Ziron is firmly in the hands of
Madoc and once at the Sea they could turn west and make it to the
Pass with relative safety.

“Has Jiron talked with you yet?” he
asks.

She shakes her head in reply.

“He wants to go in search of Tinok badly,”
he explains. “But his need for keeping you safe is more important
to him.” He pauses as she turns to look at him. “So in the morning
we’re going to ride north and escort you, Delia and anyone else who
wishes to return home to Dragon’s Pass.”

“What about Tinok?” she asks. “This could
take days or even weeks.” In her eyes is the fear that because of
her, Tinok might die.

“Illan’s going to loan us spare horses,” he
explains. “If we ride hard, we should make it there and back in
just over a week.”

She looks at him skeptically. “That isn’t
going to leave you much time,” she states.

“What good will Jiron be if we leave you
here with Illan?” he asks. “His state of mind will be shot. Besides
it’s not just you but Delia too. She’s a trader at heart, not a
warrior. From what I understand she’s managed to get Devin and the
others to be guards for her caravan when she returns.”

Smiling, she asks, “How did she do
that?”

Shrugging, he replies, “I don’t know. Maybe
they finally got sick and tired of all the blood and guts. Caravan
guard duty is less valorous, but you stand a good chance of
surviving it.”

Giving out with a slight chuckle, she says,
“True.”

Illan offered them all a position in the
command structure he’s creating to secure the southern border. Only
Jorry, Uther and Yern took him up on it. The pit fighters, when
they learned that James and Jiron were going in search of Tinok,
turned him down. If Tinok is in trouble, they wanted to help. Illan
informed them that the offer stands should they ever change their
minds. There are few enough people that he feels he can completely
trust, and those that have ridden with him the last year are among
them.

Even at this late hour, riders continue to
pass through the main gates. Most are scouts and messengers, though
a few are civilian in nature though not many. Some of the freed
slaves they brought out of the Empire decided to remain with Black
Hawk and have taken service here at Al-Ziron. Those who wished to
continue further into Madoc in search of home or loved ones have
already done so.

At the gates the grizzled old timer Nerun,
along with a squad of men, questions everyone who passes through.
Their job is to see to it that no spies of the Empire enter the
fortress.

“Illan’s giving us a send-off tonight in the
main hall,” he tells her.

“I heard that,” she replies. “Seems he even
dug up several musicians.”

“Probably just soldiers with some talent,”
he guesses.

“We should get ready, it’s going to start
soon,” she says. “That’s what I came up here to tell you.”

“Very well,” he says and then follows her
down from the battlements.

Wounded are lying in rows across the
courtyard. Fortunately for them, it hasn’t begun to rain yet and it
doesn’t look as if it will for some time. James and Tersa are
forced to make their way around pockets of wounded as they head for
the main hall. Off to one side they see Miko with the Star healing
a man with a bloody rag tied around his face. Brother Willim and
the other two remaining members of the Hand are elsewhere in the
courtyard helping others, green glows surround each of them.

“I’ll meet you inside,” he tells her.

“Okay,” she replies and then continues on
toward the main hall.

Angling over toward Miko, he sees him still
kneeling next to the man with the head injury. Just as he draws
close, the glow from the Star winks out and Miko sighs. A healer
who has been assisting him removes the bandage from his face to
reveal a pink line where a jagged cut had been moments before.

Miko looks up at him with weary eyes.

Offering a hand, James helps him to his
feet. “How much longer are you going to be?” he asks.

“As long as it takes,” he replies.

“You’re dead on your feet now,” states
James. Glancing around at the wounded still waiting for Miko’s
attention he says, “None of these men will die if you get some
rest.”

“I know,” he says. “But I can shorten their
recovery time and perhaps some will be able to have better lives
because of what I do.”

James nods, he can understand where he’s
coming from. “We’re leaving in the morning,” he tells him. “A quick
ride north to see Tersa and the others safely to the border of
Madoc then we set out in search of Tinok.”

Miko nods his head as he comes to a man who
lost two fingers during the battle. The man’s comrade sitting on
the ground next to him holds a blood soaked rag containing the
severed digits. “I’ll be there,” he assures him.

“Get some rest if you can,” he suggests.

Taking the bloody rag containing the
fingers, he turns to look at James and says, “No promises.” Then he
removes the digits and has the man’s comrade hold them in place as
the glow shines forth from the Star.

Leaving Miko to his healing, James heads
toward the main hall. Jiron is standing on the steps having just
witnessed him with Miko. “He’s not coming to the dinner?” he
asks.

Shaking his head, James replies, “No. I
doubt if I would in his place.” Glancing at Jiron he adds, “Some
things are more important.”

“You got that right,” he agrees. Just like
Miko, he’s torn between what he wants to do and what he must. Tinok
or Tersa? A hard choice but Tersa won out even though he still
agonizes over the decision. He simply could not let her and the
others brave the trip through war torn Madoc by themselves. If
something should happen, he never would have forgiven himself.

Side by side, the two friends pass through
the archway leading to the main hall. As they enter the short
hallway that goes from the archway to the main hall, music begins
to play. Not great music, but at least the musicians are all on the
same beat. Walking down the hallway, they approach the doors
leading into the festivities.

Not a great many people were invited to the
feast; the old time Raiders, the crew from The Ranch and several
others whom James doesn’t know. He wishes Lord Pytherian had
remained but he and his men had left shortly after Illan agreed to
take over the southern defenses. He and his men were needed in the
west to finish the job there.

Upon entering the hall, Illan who’s dressed
in regular clothes waves them over. Off to one side are the three
musicians, though they look the part of scruffy old soldiers more,
who fill the hall with music.

When they take their seats, he leans forward
to better be heard over the musicians. “Word came that another
force is on its way up from the south,” he tells them. “Should be
here in a day or two.”

“How many?” asks Jiron.

“Not enough to cause us any problems,” Illan
assures him. “It may be a delegation to discuss the cessation of
hostilities.”

“That would be welcome news indeed,” nods
James. “Are they going to want their fort back?”

Illan laughs, “Probably. But they’re not
going to get it. Reports say that they stripped their southern
territories of soldiers in anticipation of the summer’s campaign in
Madoc. Most of those have been slaughtered since our first attack
at Lythylla.”