The Mists of Sorrow: The Morcyth Saga Book Seven

by Brian S. Pratt

  After the two guards turn the corner and disappear, they return to the street. “It’s not far from here,” announces Jiron. And sure enough, the gate to the slaver compound appears before them shortly. It’s closed and stationed out in front of it are two slaver guards.

  Jiron brings them to a halt before the guards at the gate have seen them. “If they don’t let us in,” he says to James in a whisper, “we’re going in anyway.”

  “What about your promise to Azku?” he asks. “If we should do anything to hurt or destroy this place or its people, you will be breaking your word.”

  Jiron looks at him and replies, “If he breaks his word, then what I agreed to is no longer binding.”

  James gives him a look like he still thinks it should. “Whether someone else keeps their word or not, doesn’t affect your own honor. Only your choices. You swore to leave Baku as you find him, and you should.”

  An argumentative look crosses Jiron’s face as he stares back at him, “We’ll see.” Moving out from the shadows, he heads toward the gate with James right behind.

  The guards are quick to notice them coming in their direction. They stay where they are and make no movement or gesture as they arrive. “Come back in the morning,” one says when Jiron comes to a stop several feet away.

  “We have a package for Buka,” Jiron says.

  “What kind of package?” asks the second guard.

  “The kind that I’ll have to kill you if I tell you,” replies James.

  The first guard whispers something to the second who nods and turns back to them. “You two match the description of two we were to keep an eye out for.” He looks them up and down, taking in the blood staining both their clothes. Then he nods to the first guard.

  Removing a ring of keys, the first guard moves to the gate and unlocks it. Pulling it open, he says, “Was told to tell you to meet him in the same place as you had before.”

  James gives them a nod, “Thanks.”

  Without a word, the second guard waves them on through.

  Passing through the gate, James and Jiron enter the slaver courtyard as the gate swings closed behind them. The sound of the turning of the lock tells them the guards have locked it again. Lanterns are hung at intervals around the courtyard, filling it with abundant light. From one of the buildings nearby the cry of a slave is heard.

  Something about this just doesn’t feel right to Jiron. Maybe it’s the events of the night that has him rattled, whatever the reason he has a hand resting on one of his knives. “Be on your guard,” he whispers to James.

  “Think he’ll try something?” James asks.

  “I don’t know,” he replies. As they cross the courtyard, he realizes the place is deserted. For this time of night there should be someone out on one errand or another. A noise from the darkness causes him to stop in the middle of the courtyard and peer in that direction.

  “What?” asks James.

  “I don’t know,” he replies. When the noise doesn’t repeat itself, he says, “May just be my imagination.” Resuming their trek across the courtyard, they come to the building wherein they met Buka the night before.

  As they are expected, Jiron makes no attempt at stealth and opens the door. Entering the hallway, he passes through it to the door separating the two halves of the building. At the next door, he opens it and continues into the next hallway. Moving down, he comes to the door wherein Buka had been the last time. This time however, he knocks upon the door.

  “Come in,” is heard from the other side. Opening the door, they find Buka sitting at the table with three other men there with him. One of the men they recognize as having been a guest at the Wallowing Swine this evening. The other two slavers they saw there, the ones James was sure had to be the ones Buka sent to observe the taking of the hand, are not.

  “You have it?” Buka asks.

  James removes the blood soaked pouch and tosses it onto the table in front of the slaver Guildmaster. Buka nods to the man sitting to his right who then takes the pouch and opens it. Upending it over the table, the hand drops out and lands before Buka. A trail of blood oozes its way across the tabletop from the severed hand.

  “We have kept out part of the bargain,” Jiron says.

  Nodding, Buka replies, “So it would seem.”

  “Now, tell us where the owner of the necklace can be found,” demands Jiron.

  “Calm down, young man,” Buka tells him. “I always keep my word. Can’t rise to a position such as I have if you don’t.” He nods to two of the other slavers there with him and they take the hand and leave. Once the two men have left the room and the door once again is closed, Buka gives them a look and starts to laugh.

  Startled by the unexpected reaction, Jiron asks, “What’s so funny?”

  Bringing his laughter under control, Buka says, “The knowledge of where your friend is will do you no good.”

  “Why is that?” James asks.

  “For one thing,” replies Buka, “you can’t get to him even if you know where he is.”

  “Where is he?” demands Jiron.

  “Five days ago, he and several other slaves were taken to Ith-Zirul.” He pauses a moment to see what affect his words are having. When neither of them reacts to the name, he shakes his head and chuckles.

  “Why is that so funny?” asks Jiron.

  “Because,” he says with a grin, “none who go there ever come out.”

  “Where can we find it?” Jiron asks.

  “Ah,” Baku says as he holds up a hand, “I only agreed to tell you where you could find your friend, and I have.”

  “But we need to know!” demands Jiron.

  Baku’s face darkens as all signs of amusement leave him. “Our bargain is concluded,” he states, tone getting an edge to it. “I suggest you leave now.”

  James can see the storm building behind Jiron’s eyes. Laying a hand on his arm, he says, “We should go.” When Jiron hesitates, he adds, “At least we know the name of the place. Trust me, we’ll find it.”

  With a slight nod, he allows James to lead him to the door. Never once taking his eyes from Buka, he hears the door open behind him. “Come on,” James tells him. Passing out into the hallway, his eyes continue to bore into those of Buka until James closes the door.

  “Some day, he and I will meet again,” prophesizes Jiron. “And when we do, only one of us will walk away.”

  “Should that day come I wish you all the luck,” says James. “Right now though, we have to get back to the others.”

  Jiron nods and together they hustle back out the way they came in. Once out of the building they head across the courtyard to the gate. Jiron is internally fuming over what Buka told them, rather what he didn’t tell them. They have a name of where he is, but not where the place is located.

  All of a sudden from up ahead of them, they hear the creak that signals the opening of the gate. Jiron comes to a stop when he sees the two slavers from the Wallowing Swine passing through.

  “You!” one of the slavers exclaims when he recognizes them. Drawing his sword, he advances upon Jiron and James. “You shall die for what you did this evening.”

  “Never again will the music of Kir be heard in this world,” the other yells as he, too, draws his sword.

  Jiron gives them a grin and draws forth both knives. “If it’s a fight you want, I’ll oblige you,” he says. With that he again moves forward, wanting nothing more than to vent the anger and frustration Buka instilled within him on these two.

  As Jiron moves toward the two men, James removes one of his remaining slugs from his belt in the event Jiron should need his help. Just before Jiron reaches them, James catches movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning his gaze in the direction of the movement, he suddenly realizes there are men within the darkness on the far side of the lanterns. Then, he hears a voice speak a command, one that he’s heard dozens of times before in battle with the Empire.

  Just as the twang of a dozen crossbows breaks the sti
llness of the courtyard, he creates a barrier. A fraction of a second later, the flight of bolts strikes the barrier and ricochets off. That’s when he realizes he unconsciously made the barrier large enough to encompass not only himself and Jiron, but the two slavers as well.

  Jiron, oblivious to what is transpiring around them, is only concerned with the two slavers. For their part, all they want is to kill the men who took the hand of one they held in awe.

  As one slaver thrusts at Jiron, the other brings his sword at an angle to slice into Jiron’s side. Deflecting the thrust to the side with one knife, he brings the other in to catch the oncoming blade on the knife’s crossguard. Thrusting the sword upward, he moves inside the man’s guard and knees him in the stomach. Knocked backward by the blow, the slaver staggers two feet before regaining his balance.

  Turning his attention to the other slaver, Jiron knows he only has a moment before the man he kneed returns to the fight. He strikes out at the first slaver’s head with a knife which causes him to bring his sword up to block the blow, then comes in with the other and opens a three inch cut along his side.

  Now bleeding, the slaver gives an inarticulate cry and brings his sword in for a thrust at Jiron’s midsection. Dancing to the side, Jiron deflects the attack and brings his other knife in for a blow to the man’s neck. Unable to avoid the blow, the slaver cries out as the blade rips into his the left side of his neck, practically severing his head from his torso. Falling to the ground, the slaver flops around a second before becoming still.

  Just then, the other slaver rejoins the fight and strikes at him with an overhand hack which he barely sidesteps in time. Backing up, Jiron readies another attack when he finally takes notice of the barrier. Glancing outside of it, he sees over two dozen slavers ringing them, about half having crossbows. “Don’t worry about them,” he hears James say. “Finish this guy then we’ll deal with the others.” Jiron gives him a nod and advances on the remaining slaver.

  With his partner lying on the ground dead, the second slaver cries out as he launches into a series of blows designed to bully his way through Jiron’s defenses. But Jiron has seen many such attacks before, and by others more skilled than the man before him. Moving his knives quickly and deftly, he deflects the blows and waits for the opening he’s sure will appear.

  He begins to deflect the man’s sword in a pattern he’s used many times to create an opening. Each time the sword comes at him, he deflects it in such a way that the man becomes slightly more unbalanced. Until finally, the opening appears and Jiron strikes out with a barely seen attack and sinks his blade in the man’s chest.

  Stepping backward, Jiron watches as the man looks in confusion at the hilt sticking out of his chest. Then his sword falls from his fingers as he drops to his knees and topples over. Moving forward, Jiron reclaims his knife and wipes both blades off on the man’s clothes. Standing up again, he looks around once more at the ring of slavers surrounding them.

  “What now?” he asks James. He can see the bolts lying on the ground on the other side of the barrier from the futile attempt to attack them.

  With the threat from the two slavers within the barrier nullified, James turns toward those on the outside. “We’re leaving,” he tells them. To Jiron he says, “Follow me.”

  Jiron nods and replies, “Lead on.”

  Altering his course, James no longer moves toward the gates, rather he heads to the back wall of the slaver compound. One slaver gets in their way and threatens them with his sword. Before the edge of the barrier reaches the man, James says, “Move.”

  The slaver either doesn’t understand or ignores the command for he advances forward. Raising his sword to strike, he’s suddenly struck by the barrier before he can complete the maneuver. The unexpected blow knocks him off balance and he hits the ground as James and Jiron continue on by.

  “Look,” Jiron says as he points to the door leading into the building wherein Buka met them. The Guildmaster stands there in the doorway and glares at them as they move closer.

  “I see him,” replies James. When he draws closer, James says to Buka, “We’re leaving. Anyone you send after us will die.”

  “You aren’t going to get away with this,” the Guildmaster states, the implied threat quite apparent.

  “Better men than you have tried to kill us,” Jiron tells him, “yet here we are.”

  Buka didn’t get to be Guildmaster by being stupid or acting foolishly. Having seen the bolts being deflected by the barrier and the subsequent knocking aside of the slaver, he knows there’s nothing he can do to prevent them from leaving. Signaling for his men to back off, they keep a good distance between themselves and the two men protected by the barrier.

  James continues moving forward toward the wall. Beside him, Jiron keeps an eye on those following along behind them as they approach the wall. “They’re still following,” he says.

  “I know,” replies James. Coming to the wall, James summons the magic and directs a blast toward it.

  Bam!

  The wall explodes outward and when the dust clears, they find a ten foot section of the wall gone. James turns back to the slavers and warns them again, “Follow me at your peril.”

  Stepping forward, James and Jiron carefully make their way through the rubble. Once past, they continue in as straight a direction to the edge of town as they can. Before they’ve gone more than half a dozen yards from the hole in the wall, three slavers rush through after them.

  Crumph!

  The ground under them explodes upward and throws them into the air. When the men come back down and strike the ground, they fail to move. “Any more?” James asks.

  “Doesn’t look like it,” Jiron replies.

  “Good,” nods James. Resuming their progress, they continue away from the wall. As long as they have the wall in sight, no more slavers attempt to make it through.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  _________________________

  The coldness of the stone sucks the very warmth from his body. Not for the first time has he questioned the logic which made him leave his friends behind. At the time, all he could think of was vengeance. Those that took his love away from him had to be made to pay and he knew that as long as he continued to travel with James, that was unlikely to happen.

  For a long time, every day was torment for him. Each morning a renewal of his loss and every evening a lonely time spent mourning what no longer could be. At first he sought out and executed ranking members of the Empire’s forces. His first victim was some officer in a small town not too far from where he left the others behind.

  He had ridden into town, eyes red and swollen from his grief. When he saw the officer appear out of a doorway, his vision turned even redder. Not caring about who would see him he leaped from his horse and approached the man. The officer noticed his approach and turned to greet him, but instead was only greeted by the point of one of Tinok’s knives. A quick thrust and it was over, the officer never even had a chance to defend himself. It was murder, pure and simple.

  He bent over and carved a heart with two dots upon the man’s forehead. To this day he still doesn’t know why he did that, but ever since, it became his calling card. Whenever he killed another of the Empire’s officers and nobles, a similar design was carved into their foreheads as well.

  The first year he spent as a loner, moving from town to town, staying on the fringe of society. Not being able to speak the language was a definite handicap at first. But after awhile he began to pick up on it.

  That’s when he began to hear rumors and stories of a great mage who was wreaking havoc among the Empire’s cities and citizens. Each time he heard the tale, the story would grow. A grin would come to him, for he knew that his friends were still alive. And better yet, hurting the Empire.

  At the end of winter and before spring began, he started accumulating people of like mind. First one, then another learned of him and sought him out. Each wanting to work to hurt the Empire. Some were common t
hugs and murderers who saw him as a chance to strike back at the government that had hurt them so bad. Others were more along the lines of those who wanted a change. They were tired of the way the Emperor and his army controlled everything. How the average person had little chance to improve their lot and so forth.

  So by the time summer came along, he had a band following him numbering two score. He had thought that by this time he would have been captured and killed. Only reason he can think of why they didn’t spend more resources in trying to capture him was that there was another they wanted more. James was playing merry hell with them and they wanted him bad. What forces were sent looking for him were either easily avoided or destroyed.

  Then came the news that Black Hawk, infamous leader of men that he was, had resurfaced. Not only that, but with a band of men was actually pushing the Empire’s forces back. He wouldn’t have credited the story except along with the news of Black Hawk came the tale of how the mage had joined with him.

  That was when he began to go after bigger targets. Armories, workshops, things like that. No longer satisfied with skirting the fringe and taking officers unawares, his force began planning attacks and sowing dissent. Which only brought more people to him. At one point his force numbered over three hundred men.

  But then came the day when he made his mistake.

  He was leading his band to a small town where they planned to make a raid for supplies. Stealing food and other necessities has been the way he kept his force supplied. What money they may come across tends to be spent on other things, like women.

  The town was a nexus for local herders and growers, those that were able to coax something to grow in this type of climate. Earlier, he had sent a man ahead to scout the town who returned with news that the storehouses were filled to capacity. Needing food badly, he turned his force and headed straight toward it. What he didn’t realize was that he was riding into a trap.