Tides of Faith
Travail of The Dark Mage
Book Two
Brian S. Pratt
Copyright 2013
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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.
Chapter One
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 in
to 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.
“James?”
Shaking the shoulder a second time produced an intake of breath, a stretch, and the cracking open of one eyelid.
“About time you awoke.”
When his gaze focused and he saw who it was leaning forward, the second eye flew open. “Miko?” He tried coming to an upright position, but his head spun and he sagged back down.
“Yes, James. It is me.”
“How…?” Glancing to where Jiron and Jira lay, he saw their chests rising and falling and knew they lived. “How did we come to be here?” He returned his gaze to Miko.
“Morcyth thought you might need help in the crossing.” Morcyth’s High Priest grinned the grin James had seen so many times before. “We searched the ether and found you lost. It was but a simple matter to direct you here.”
“Simple?” James laid an arm across his forehead in an attempt to still the pounding.
“Well, simple when you have the aid of a god.”
“I suppose.”
“What happened to you?” That was the question that had nagged answering since the trio appeared days before.
“That’s a long story. Suffice it to say, my island was attacked, and I went home.”
“Home? You mean, The Ranch?” The Ranch being the first place James had lived after coming to this world. It had been a base of operations during his “war” with the Empire.
James shook his head. “No, I mean home. Earth.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “The place of your birth?”
“The same. You know how I was working on the teleportation pads?”
Miko nodded.
“Well, the battle culminated in an exchange of magic, it somehow tripped, and there we were.”
“What about Meliana and Kenny? Did they go as well?”
“No. As far as I know, they were either taken by the invaders, killed, or remain on the island. They took shelter in the manor during the attack.” He seriously wanted to find them magically, but wasn’t up to it despite the grave danger his and Jiron’s loved ones might be in. With head pounding and feeling as if he was about to pass out at any moment, he dared not make the attempt.
Miko nodded. He well knew the safeguards James had put in place to protect that refuge.
“You haven’t heard anything, have you?”
“No, but I shall send someone that way to find out.”
“Don’t bother. If the attackers failed to take them, then Kendrick would have picked them up when he arrived. Unless the attackers took him out, too.”
Leaning back in his chair, Miko grew thoughtful. “Was it the Empire?”
“The soldiers wore armor of the Empire, but the mage…” trailing off, he recalled the yellow glow of the mage’s magic. “He was not a warrior-priest. I doubt if he was part of Dmon-Li’s priesthood.”
“A mercenary mage?”
“Perhaps. Though a mage of that power could take over a country.” It had been staggering the amount of power the man had fielded.
“Then why come after you?”
James turned his eyes back toward the young man before him. Few knew that Miko was much younger than he appeared. Years had been stolen by the magic of the Fire, Dmon-Li’s focal point on this world. Now safely hidden in a cave deep beneath the Merchant’s Pass, it could no longer be used to spread the god’s foul influence.
“I don’t know. None of it makes any sense. Years of quiet solitude, then this. I’ve tried to come up with a good reason, but can’t think of one. The only one that makes even the smallest amount of sense is that forces within the Empire were seeking vengeance.”
He glanced back to Jiron and his daughter. “How are they?”
“She will be up soon. Her father….”
James returned his gaze to Miko.
“Jiron was dead when you arrived.”
“Dead?”
Miko nodded. “With Morcyth’s help, I was able to heal his body and return him his spirit. He will be weak for some time.”
“Thank you.”
“I was glad to help. Now, tell me what happened and how you came to be lost in the void between worlds.”
Miko sat in rapt attention during James’ narrative. Most of what he heard meant little to him. James had often spoken of his world after the time when that
knowledge had been entrusted to him. Miko found it all very interesting, if a bit confusing. When James told of his ability to work magic on his home world, he grew interested, for James had always stated his world had no magic. He had no idea what a mental block was, or how it had inhibited James’ magical abilities. During the part played by the Little Brothers and the crossing, he became keenly interested.
“They actually helped you?”
James nodded. “Surprisingly enough, they knew of me. Or rather, of The Gardener.”
“Still, that raises some questions does it not? Like, is there a way between worlds that any can cross, or is it just for them?”
“They tried to show me the way and it almost killed me. I doubt if either you or I could traverse their pathways and survive.” Fatigue began asserting itself once again and James sagged back into the cot.
“It might be best if you kept my presence here quiet.”
Miko grinned. “Already done. None but my priests and Kip know you are here.” He gestured with his hand to include the entire room. “This place is sealed. It would take a mage of great power, or a god, to breach it.”
“Have any tried?”
“Constantly. But worry not, such attempts are quite normal. Other High Priests are curious about what I am doing. I have become quite the focal point of their attention of late.”
Eyes moving to the sword at the High Priest’s hip, he added, “No wonder, especially now that you and your priests are training with swords.”
“Jiron tell you that, did he?”
James nodded. “Are you merely keeping in shape?” His expression grew more solemn. “Or is there more to it?”
Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two Page 1
