The Mists of Sorrow: The Morcyth Saga Book Seven (51 page)

“And should we make it through the Mists and
enter the temple,” James says, “we still have to find Tinok.” To
Brother Willim he asks, “Will my magic be able to locate him once
we’re within its walls?”

“I just don’t know,” he says. “It would
depend on the type of wards they have in place.”

Then all of a sudden their attention is
drawn to rapidly approaching footsteps coming from further into
town. From the sound of it there must be more than a couple people
coming toward them.

Jiron places a hand on the hilt of one of
his knives and moves toward the sound while the others remain
quietly with the horses. As whoever is approaching draws closer, he
can hear one of them asks, “Where the heck are they?”

He relaxes when he realizes the voice
belongs to Scar. “Over here!” he calls out softly. The footsteps
come to a stop and he can now see their silhouettes in the
moonlight. Moving toward them, he again says, “Over here.” Then to
James he hollers, “It’s them.”

“Jiron?” asks Reilin.

“Yeah,” he says, “and it’s about time you
guys showed up.”

As they move to join him, Potbelly says, “We
had a few people follow us out of the tavern. Took us a bit to
shake them.”

“Is he alright?” Jiron asks.

“He’s fine and everyone is accounted for,”
Stig assures him.

From out of the darkness appears the blonde
haired Kir with a grin. “I wasn’t sure if we were going to pull it
off for awhile,” Perrilin says. The front of his outfit and most of
his right sleeve is coated in blood.

As Jiron leads them back to where James and
the others are waiting with the horses, he says, “For a minute I
thought we had actually cut off your hand. You’re quite
convincing.”

“Thank you,” he says with a slight bow.
“I’ve had plenty of practice faking my own death.” Then they arrive
where the others are waiting and he looks to James as he adds, “But
that thing with the pig’s bladder and intestine was pure
genius.”

James gives him a smile and says, “Saw it on
a show once about movie magic. Of course they used other material,
but we made do with what was available to us.”

After they had left the slaver compound and
rejoined the others, they went to an inn and dropped off the horses
as well as everyone but James, Jiron and Reilin. They then asked
around and found out where Kir was staying. He was quite surprised
when they showed up at his door.

When told of the task Buka had set for them,
that is to take his right hand, he decided that Kir had outlived
his usefulness. Then together they worked out a plan that would
enable them to fool Buka and allow Perrilin to make good his
escape. After all, those who knew Perrilin the bard was
masquerading as Kir, would hear about him losing his hand in front
of the crowd at the Wallowing Swine. That alone will allow him to
create a new identity without immediate suspicion.

So the following morning, they went to a
local butcher shop and purchased a medium sized pig’s bladder,
three feet of intestine, and a lot of pig’s blood. They sewed the
end of the intestine to the bladder and filled the bladder with the
blood.

Next was a visit to a communal grave where
they throw dead slaves. Seems a single grave is too much work for
just a single slave. So they dig a pit and when it becomes filled
with dead slaves, they fill it back in. Needless to say, the pit is
usually far outside of town due to the odor. But Perrilin knew that
any place with a slaver compound would have one and they soon
located it. The rest was easy.

During the break when they agreed he would
be attacked, in the back of the kitchen, Perrilin placed the pig
bladder under his left arm and strung the intestine under his shirt
all the way to his right hand. Then a hand and portion of the
forearm of a dead slave were extended from the end of his right
sleeve.

When he was grabbed and Jiron cut the hand
from the forearm, he squeezed the pig’s bladder and the pig’s blood
sprayed out the end of the section of intestine. All in all it
looked like his ‘stump’ was spraying blood. Then it was a simple
matter for Reilin and the others to get him out of there, hide the
evidence, and rejoin James.

“What will they do when they come looking
for you?” asks Stig. “After all, some of the people there really
cared about you.”

“They’ll find me gone,” he replies. “I’m
sure they’ll hunt through the temples and when they still can’t
find me, the rumors will start.”

They mount their horses and head out into
the night away from town. As they leave the buildings behind them,
James fills the others in on what they learned from Buka and the
ramifications that go along with it. “So, we have less than ten
days remaining,” James summarizes. “We know where he is. All that’s
left is to go get him.”

“Oh, that’s all?” asks Aleya mockingly. “You
can’t be thinking about breaking into this temple. It’s
madness!”

“Now, it won’t be that bad,” Jiron tells
her.

She turns a withering glare upon him and is
about to launch into how stupid the plan is when Miko says in a
calm but sure voice, “We must.” Her glare now turns to him. Cutting
her off yet again, he says, “No matter what the cost, we must try
to stop what is going to happen. Even if it means all of us die in
the attempt.”

James brings them to a halt and turns to
Miko. “What do you mean we have to ‘stop what is going to
happen’?”

“Just what I said,” he replies. “This goes
far beyond Tinok, Cassie, even you James.”

“You’ll have to explain that to me,” Scar
says.

“Something’s been gnawing at me ever since
you told us your last vision when you learned it was Cassie in your
dreams,” he explains. “And it finally, as you say, clicked
together. I don’t believe the dream was given to you for Tinok’s
benefit. Rather, it was a way to get you to go to that temple in
the middle of the Mists.”

Turning to Brother Willim he says, “Your
dreams of late have ended with the sundering of a black, mist
shrouded tree. From which a creature issues forth and destroys the
garden. Am I right in saying the garden represents the world?”

Brother Willim nods his head. “I have always
thought so.”

“A black tree shrouded in mist and now a
black temple residing within a blanket of mist.” Glancing from
between Brother Willim and James he concludes, “It’s too much of a
coincidence with everything that’s been happening.”

Nodding, Brother Willim says, “I agree. I
came to that conclusion a short time ago.”

“Therefore, something is going to happen
within the High Temple of Dmon-Li when the moon turns black.
Whatever it is, should it be successful, will destroy the
world.”

They grow silent as each ponders what he
just said. “Could it be possible?” Aleya asks. Gone is her stern
glare to Jiron. Now a more thoughtful, perhaps even fearful
expression has taken its place.

“Yes,” replies James. He remembers that
other place he was in long ago, the one with the burnt trees and
shadows that Igor had rescued him from. “Oh yes, I believe it can
happen. That it probably has happened to other worlds, other
places.”

Miko turns to face James. “Is this why I was
made High Priest?” he asks.

“More than likely,” he replies with a nod.
“As High Priest, you would bring more to the table than just being
plain old Miko.”

“How far away is this temple?” asks
Scar.

They turn to Perrilin who says, “The Mists
of Sorrow lay a little over a day to the southwest, but their
position fluctuates at times. Once within them, I’m not sure how
much further the temple will be.”

“Then I suggest we ride for another couple
hours and then rest until dawn,” Jiron says. “In the morning ride
until we reach the Mists then rest until the following morning. It
would be best if we were at our peak when entering the Mists.”

James nods. “I agree,” he says.

Moving on, they ride to the southwest as
planned and stop after putting many miles behind them. They post a
watch throughout the night while they sleep. Once the sun begins to
rise once more, they’re back in the saddle and again moving
southwest.

The terrain grows steadily more unforgiving
the further they go. Cracked land and stunted trees for as far as
the eye can see. After leaving their campsite, Brother Willim is
the first to notice the lack of living things in the area. “I can’t
sense any birds or beasts nearby,” he announces at one point. “I’ve
never before been to an area such as this.”

“What could it mean?” asks Reilin.

“Nothing good I assure you,” the priest
replies.

The day progresses hot and dry. Worries rise
as they push deeper into what Scar has begun to call the land of
the dead, a not too far off description considering the lack of
life they’ve encountered.

Three hours before sundown, the Mists of
Sorrow appears on the horizon. Just as he remembers it, a wall of
fog in an area where no fog should be able to exist. As they ride
forward, the wall of fog steadily grows until they come to within a
mile of it. There they stop and make camp for the night.

“We’ll stay here through the night,” James
tells the others as they set about making camp. “We should be safe
enough here.”

Jiron looks at the wall of fog with Aleya
standing next to him. “I hope so,” he mutters. He turns to her and
says, “I wish you weren’t here.”

“I know you do,” she says. “But there’s no
other place I would rather be.”

Putting his arm around her, he gives her an
affectionate squeeze. Then they return to the others and help with
preparations for the meal. A filling meal of the last of their
dried beef and a few old tubers Brother Willim dug from the ground
satisfies their hunger if not their taste buds. How the tubers came
to be here is anyone’s guess, could be they manage to grow in the
wintertime.

Once the meal is over and they are sitting
around a campfire, they decided to risk one seeing as how nothing
is out here, they settle in for the night. As hard as it may be,
they try to put what may happen on the morrow out of their minds as
they spend one last time together like they use to back at The
Ranch. Stories and songs, most of which are by Perrilin, go a long
way in taking away their worries and fears. But when the time comes
to sleep, once again each one begins to dwell on what will happen.
For some, sleep takes a long time to come.

“Where is it?” asks Stig.

The lightning of the sky with the coming of
dawn revealed that the fog was nowhere in sight. “I told you it
moves,” Brother Willim says. “The edge has simply moved further
away from us.”

“It must be scared,” jokes Shorty. “It knows
we are on the way.” A couple snickers are all he gets for his
levity, not nearly what he was hoping for.

“Guess we’ll have a little more of a ride
this morning than we anticipated,” James says. Climbing into the
saddle, he waits for the others to mount. Then he nods to Jiron to
lead the way. With Aleya riding beside him, he heads out.

The fog doesn’t take too long to makes its
appearance. Less than an hour after they get underway it appears on
the horizon. The sight of the fog before them affects each in their
own way. Most however feel a sense of dread at the sight, one of
impending doom.

Steeling their nerve, they continue on
toward the wall of fog. It rises to a point high above the ground
and when they at last reach its boundary, it towers far above them.
“Never seen fog or mist behave this way before,” Perrilin states.
“A sheer wall rising to the sky like this.”

“This is no ordinary mist,” Brother Willim
states. “It differs slightly from that you would normally find in
the world.”

“How so?” asks James.

“Hard to explain,” he replies. Gesturing to
the mist before them he says, “This goes against the natural order
of the world.”

They pause momentarily at the mist’s
boundary. James gazes intently at the mist before them and tries to
penetrate its murky depths. “Everyone keep a constant lookout for
hell hounds,” he says to the others. “With any luck, they may not
be in this area.”

“I wouldn’t trust to that if I were you,”
comments Potbelly.

“I’m not,” he responds. Then with a glance
to Jiron, he nods that they should enter.

“Here we go,” breathes Jiron as he nudges
his horse to move forward.

As they enter the mist and it envelops them,
it almost feels as if the mist is sucking the warmth right out of
their bodies. The world turns hazy as the light from the sun above
becomes diffused as it works its way down to where they are. Sound
too, seems to be muffled in some way, the clip-clop of the horses’
hooves no longer resonates as it had when they were not in the
mist.

Onward Jiron leads them. Everyone stays in a
compact group, all unconsciously remain together for safety. When
after a few minutes’ time nothing happens, Jiron picks up the
pace.

James wants desperately to use magic to see
if there is anything nearby, but realizes that if he does, those
within the temple will undoubtedly pick up on it. So he resists the
temptation and uses what senses are available to him; sight, smell
and sound. Unfortunately, the mist allows neither one to be very
effective.

Time becomes meaningless within the constant
grayness of the mist. They begin jumping at imagined shadows as the
monotonousness of the mist starts playing tricks on their senses.
“Is there anything you can do about this?” Shorty asks Brother
Willim after they’ve been in the mist for what must be over an
hour.

“No,” he replies. “It’s not natural.”

“Too bad,” states Reilin.

Another few minutes pass by and Jiron
suddenly comes to a stop and peers intently into the mists ahead of
them.

James stops next to him and asks, “What is
it?” Looking forward into the mist, he tries to see what Jiron
had.