Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two

Tides of Faith

Travail of The Dark
Mage

Book Two

Brian S. Pratt

Copyright 2013

Smashwords Edition, License
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The Fantasy Worlds
of

Brian S. Pratt

The Morcyth Saga

The Unsuspecting
Mage

Fires of Prophecy

Warrior Priest of
Dmon-Li

Trail of the Gods

The Star of
Morcyth

Shades of the
Past

The Mists of
Sorrow*

*(Conclusion of The Morcyth
Saga)

Travail of The Dark
Mage

Sequel to The Morcyth
Saga

1-Light in the Barren
Lands

2- Tides of Faith

The Improbable Adventures
of

Scar and Potbelly

(coming soon)

-see
preview
at end of Tides of
Faith

The Broken Key

#1- Shepherd’s
Quest

#2-Hunter of the
Horde

#3-Quest’s End

Qyaendri
Adventures

Ring of the
Or’tux

Dungeon Crawler
Adventures

Underground

Portals

The Adventurer’s
Guild

#1-Jaikus and Reneeke Join
the Guild

This is for-

My children
who went through so much in the years during which
I wrote Tides of Faith.

My family
for standing by us and helping us to
endure.

My fans
for their patience and understanding.

The Temple routine had been severely
disrupted over the past three days: Daily Prayers left unprayed,
Novices showed for classes only to learn they were canceled, and
Priests galloped away on errands most mysterious. Despite such
disorder, life had definitely taken an upswing for Kip ever since
he had been dragooned into participating in a Temple Ritual better
suited for those more experienced. Being the lowest ranking person
“in the know” about recent events, the duty for taking care of the
Temple’s “guests” had fallen to him.

Being party to clandestine
happenings was really quite exciting. Having been personally
instructed by the High Priest against divulging the presence of the
three gave him no end of enjoyment. Whenever the care of
his
patients prompted him
to enter the Temple at large, he crept about so as to avoid
encountering his peers. Upon the lone occasion when his efforts at
passing unseen proved less than effective, he merely eluded to an
important errand and that he hadn’t the time to talk. He was
certain that doing so raised more questions than put to rest, but
frankly, he didn’t care. Things were afoot and he was right in the
middle of it!

Enjoying a short period of relaxation,
Kip sat upon a rather plush chair with feet propped upon the side
of the little girl’s cot. This position allowed him to keep a good
eye on his three patients.

The girl couldn’t have been more than
five or six by his reckoning. In the cot next to hers slept her
father, or so the High Priest had indicated. Kip had seen him only
once before, and that briefly. His name was Jiron, and the
daughter, Jira. Both had been in bad shape when they arrived. Or
should he say…appeared? He wasn’t exactly sure which term applied
seeing as how one minute they weren’t there, then they were. It was
probably best to not worry overmuch about such things. His duty was
to take care of them, and take care of them he would.

Of the other man that appeared with
the father and daughter, Kip hadn’t at first known his identity. In
fact, if he hadn’t overheard the High Priest and Father Keller, one
of the ranking priests of the Inner Circle, discussing the trio he
might still not know.

The Dark Mage!

Whenever Kip’s thoughts turned to the
man, he found his gaze moved unconsciously toward the figure of so
much rumor and mystery. Some called him a hero; the one who single
handedly threw off the yolk of slavery imposed upon Madoc by the
Empire. Others called him a servant of evil. It all depended on who
you talked to. The High Priest thought highly of him, and that
satisfied Kip.

Three days had come and gone, and
still they had yet to awaken. From what other priests stated, it
could very well be another day or two before they regained
consciousness. Which suited Kip. The longer this took, the longer
he would have a holiday from studies and chores.

The emergence of a groan from the
girl’s father drew Kip’s attention. It was a miracle that the man
was even alive. Dead upon arrival, he only lived now because of the
intercession of the High Priest. Seeing the man’s eyes remained
closed, Kip resumed his enjoyment of the High Priest’s chair.
Having been brought for the High Priest’s use during his visits,
the Reverend Father had said he could use it when no one else was
around.

“It would not do to have
you seen sitting in my chair,” the High Priest had whispered with a
grin.

The High Priest was an amiable fellow;
in Kip’s opinion much too young to hold such an exalted position.
Weren’t High Priests supposed to be old men, far removed from the
province of youth? But the shortness of his years was not the High
Priest’s only out-of-character aspect. He could use a
sword.

Since his first day at the
Temple, Kip had heard the scuttlebutt going around that the High
Priest could wield a sword with the best of them. That if you
displeased him, he may just “call you out” and that would be that.
He hadn’t given the rumor much credence until after the arrival of
the three people lying in cots before him. But after that, the High
Priest had begun to
wear
a sword; not only him, but a dozen of the higher
ranking priests.

Kip worried that such, coupled with
the appearance of the three, boded ill for the near future, though
doubted if he would ever learn the whys and wherefores of the
situation. A Novice was, after all, far removed from the high end
of the Temple’s hierarchy. In fact, he sort of thought his station
to be located nearer the leaky end of the cellar on the
list.

Voices from the other side of the door
prompted a rapid departure from his cushy repose. Vaulting to his
feet, he managed to take several steps from the High Priest’s chair
and turn to face the door just as it opened. In walked Father
Keller with the High Priest, both wearing swords.

“…
and I think a certain
pair should be made aware of his presence as well.” Concluding his
remark, High Priest Miko glanced toward his youngest conspirator.
“How are our patients this morning?”

Kip bowed deeply. “They are resting,
Reverend Father.”

Miko went to stand with Kip while
Father Keller moved toward the cots. He glanced at the chair, saw
the barely perceptible indentation, then gave Kip a knowing grin.
“Have they awoken?”

“No, Reverend Father.”

“Call me Miko.”

Father Keller flashed a disapproving
gaze toward his superior, but silenced the retort he might have
voiced had they been alone. The look had not been lost on
Kip.

“As you wish Reverend Fa…uh…Miko.” The
name, while it suited him, did not roll from the tongue as well as
Reverend Father, especially with Father Keller disapproving glare
boring into him.

Miko grinned. “At least when we are
alone like this.”

Kip nodded, deeming such to be the
best way to reply without antagonizing either.

Patting his young Novice on the
shoulder, Miko went to join Father Keller at James’
bedside.

“He’s merely asleep,” Father Keller
announced quietly as Miko joined him. “Do you wish for me to wake
him?”

“Not just yet.” Pausing a moment, he
turned his attention to where his young Novice remained standing.
“Kip, they will be waking soon. Perhaps you and Father Keller could
ensure food will be available when they do?”

Young Kip nodded. “As you wish,
Rev…Miko.”

The High Priest of Morcyth
then flashed Father Keller a look his friend of four years fully
understood:
take your time.

Knowing that Miko wished to be alone
with The Dark Mage when he awoke, Father Keller took charge of Kip
and together, left him alone with his friend.

Minutes ticked by as Miko watched
James sleep. His innate abilities as Morcyth’s High Priest allowed
him to “know” James would make a full, and quick, recovery; Jira
too. Jiron on the other hand would require additional rest before
returning to his former state of lethality. It was not easy to
shake off the touch of death’s cold hand.

For over a year, foreshadowings of
dire times had dogged him. Plagued both in sleep and during waking
hours by feelings and barely perceived omens, he had known an ill
wind drew nigh. Rumors had reached his ears of unsettling
occurrences to the south. Being of the street, Miko knew the value
of intelligence. Certain priests “sent out” to spread the word of
Morcyth’s return often held ulterior motives. Not only believers
did they seek, but news that might be of interest to their High
Priest, and not just which bakery held the best tarts.

Illan, comrade of past adventures,
passed information whenever they happened his way. Known as Black
Hawk to the world, Illan held Madoc’s southern border against the
Empire. His Raiders, an aged group of fighters intermixed now with
an influx of new blood, kept the peace along what once had been a
no-man’s land of banditry and corruption.

Just last week, Father Andrew had
returned from a trip to the south with grim news. Located some
fifty miles within the Empire’s border, an entire town had been
wiped out, massacred from the looks of it. If Illan’s informants
could be believed, the people had fallen upon each other. Men,
women, and children had been hacked to death with whatever had been
at hand; knives, shovels, pitchforks, and in one instance, the
horns of a goat that were still attached to its severed
head.

Black Hawk had sent scouts to see if
other towns had been affected, but all others were continuing along
with business as usual. He thought that perhaps the priesthood of
Dmon-Li might be resurfacing, but Miko considered that unlikely.
Everything they knew of Dmon-Li indicated that they preferred
“sacrificing” their offerings in places unseen.

Something was astir in the Empire,
something…unpleasant. And now James had been attacked. Miko had
questions, questions which needed answering. Sitting upon the chair
recently vacated by Kip, the High Priest of Morcyth leaned forward
and gently shook the shoulder of the man that had altered his life
forever.

Who would have believed a street-brat
from Bearn would one day be a High Priest? An unusual High Priest
to say the least. His peers in the temple world, the other High
Priests, thought him eccentric, that he didn’t give proper respect
deserving the position of High Priest. Rarely in proper robes, Miko
preferred comfortable brown leathers to the pompous and bulky robes
others of his station draped about themselves. The set his priests
presented him during his second year as High Priest were only
brought out during various ceremonies, those demanding a certain
amount of decorum.