Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two

by Brian S. Pratt

  Individual orbs could no longer be discerned as now a constant explosion of light erupted outward from both bubbles. After several moments of close scrutiny, he discerned a lessening to the stored magic. Turning to Miko, he gave him a grin. “It’s working.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “What does he think he’s doing?”

  Jiron paced, all the while staring at the glow coming from the heart of Tapu. It was now so bright that it would assuredly draw the attention of anyone in the vicinity; quite possibly, even those that were not in the area. It had to be visible for miles.

  “I’m sure what he has to,” replied Father Vickor.

  “Well, he’d better finish quickly so we can get out of here before someone comes to investigate.” Many grunts of agreement followed Shorty’s comment.

  “You needn’t worry about that.”

  Rounding on Azhan, Jiron asked, “What do you mean?”

  The young mage gestured toward the light. “Should his efforts be observed, it would merely be attributed to the curse plaguing this area. No one would willingly brave death to investigate.”

  Tinok snorted. “I hardly think your masters would think twice about sending someone to their deaths should the whim strike.”

  Lowering his eyes to the ground, he ignored the knifer’s barb and remained silent. Azhan’s right hand rubbed along his left forearm. The prickling sensation caused by the active magic in Tapu had grown marginally uncomfortable since the light first appeared.

  While the others argued amongst themselves as to the possible ramifications of what transpired in the cursed city, Azhan silently admitted to himself that Tinok’s observation was closer to the truth than he had alluded. A patrol would most assuredly check out any unusual happenings, even in a place reputedly cursed.

  He had mixed feelings about that. Did he really want to be saved? Life under Captain Allin had been anything but pleasant. As part of a patrol, he would never be able to advance in his craft. However, with the Dark Mage as his master…and then there were his master’s Glerhan to consider. He did not relish the idea of having them hunting for him.

  Glancing again to Tapu, he knew that such feats were beyond the skills of anyone currently at the School. Maybe the two remaining Masters could match such a deed; though the chance that they would take a lowly mage like himself on as apprentice was all but nonexistent. In these unsettled times, one needed to first look after himself.

  Captain Aziri, a right nasty piece of work in whose company his friend and fellow mage, Hikai, languished, led the nearest patrol. From the few conversations he and Hikai had shared when their two patrols met up, life with Captain Aziri was worse than what he had endured.

  In the deep recesses of his mind, he harbored a hope that Captain Aziri would run afoul of his new master and his master’s comrades. The ghost of a grin appeared as he laid back on the ground and thought of the meeting, and the ensuing carnage. Of course in this vision, Hikai survived and together, they would learn at the feet of the dreaded Dark Mage.

  As the Dark Mage’s apprentices, they would be party to momentous, historic events. And one day, should they live through it, become Masters in their own right. Visions of battles both mundane and arcane played through his mind. In the midst of them all, the Dark Mage and his two apprentices wielded forces that laid waste to everyone that dared come against them.

  Mountains crumbled, seas boiled, men fell in droves, the power of the Dark Mage ruled supreme. During a vision where he was summoning creatures of fire to deal with a thousand raiders, the prickling of his skin abruptly turned from merely annoying to painful. Snapped out of his reverie, he knew something had changed.

  A gasp escaped him upon spying a shimmering, undulating darkness moving toward them from the south across the night sky. Entire swaths of stars would fade and grow distinct in its passing. The scope of the thing was immense.

  Apprehension filled him to such an extent that he could not take his eyes from it. None other seemed to have noticed the approach of the shimmering darkness. Moving fast, it was soon over their camp.

  The prickling pain intensified to a nearly unendurable level as the mass passed overhead. His heart beat fast and sweat broke out on his brow. Never had he heard of such a thing. Pinpricks of pain flared across his skin; not until it had moved past and the sky above returned to normal did they subside.

  Now freed of the paralytic hold the mass had held over his eyes, they turned from it toward the light coming from the heart of Tapu.

  “Master!”

  He lurched to his feet and took two steps toward Tapu before an arm snaked around his throat, bringing him to an abrupt halt.

  “Not so fast.” Tinok squeezed the mage’s neck and brought his knife up to lay alongside Azhan’s cheek.

  “But…”

  His words faded to silence when at the heart of Tapu, the light intensified tenfold.

  For the last half hour, James had been closely monitoring the progress of the spell. The rate of magic depletion was continuing at a steady pace and it looked as if the reservoir of magic would be completely drained in another hour, maybe two. There had been no hitches and the outflow of magic remained stable and consistent. Satisfied that his plan was working he gave Miko a grin and sighed.

  “We should have this done and be across the river before dawn.”

  “That will be good.”

  Nodding, James absentmindedly rubbed his forearm. The prickling sensation caused by the magnitude of magic utilized by his two orb-producing bubbles was growing annoying and a tad bit painful. In fact, for the last minute or so the discomfort had grown to rival what one feels after the circulation has been restored following an extended period of lying upon your arm in an awkward position.

  When the pain grew more severe, he glanced back to the spell and with his mind’s eye, again examined its inner workings. What he saw made him gasp.

  Fissures had ruptured along the span of the conduits. From one such fissure, a thread of magic had appeared. In the span of a heartbeat, dozens more sprang to life. The threads elongated, met up with each other, formed connections, then spawned others. By the second heartbeat, each of the two conduits drawing power from the seed’s reservoir of magic and powering the two bubbles emitting glowing orbs was fully entwined in a dense, convoluted network of these threads. The flow of magic spiked and so, too did the output of glowing orbs.

  Both men gasped with pain and quickly shielded their eyes. The light was now so intense that neither could look directly upon it.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Something’s wrong.”

  James focused more intently on the conduits and the growing network of magic threads. He was at a loss as to what was happening or how to stop it. Drawing more power to him, James began hacking away at the growing threads in an attempt to rid the conduits of their influence. For every one severed, three more sprang forth.

  The prickling pain fought for his attention, but he ignored it and concentrated on stabilizing the spell. He sensed things were quickly spiraling out of control. Then all of a sudden, his mind’s eye grew cloudy and he could no longer focus on the spell. He fought for control but the magic grew erratic.

  Threads latched onto the magic under his control and a backlash of power slammed into his mind. Crying out, he staggered backward.

  “James!” Miko caught him before he could hit the ground.

  Glazed eyes met his own. Slapping him hard across the face, Miko again yelled, “James!” No response.

  The orb-emitting bubbles no longer merely produced them to fall in a gentle cascade. Instead, they now shot them halfway across the square; some arced up into the starlit sky before vanishing.

  A feeling of impending disaster came over the High Priest. Lying his friend down on the ground, he covered James’ body with his own. Throwing everything he had into the shield protecting them, he closed his eyes and whispered, “Morcyth, protect us.”

  “I tell you, he’s in trou
ble.”

  Tinok continued holding Azhan around the throat. Everyone stood watching the events transpiring at the center of Tapu.

  Scar glanced to the young mage. “What kind of trouble?”

  Azhan did not know how to explain what he felt.

  Shorty pointed back toward the city, “That kind.”

  Blazing trails marred the night sky as balls of light erupted from out of Tapu.

  “What should we do?”

  Father Keller turned to Kip. “We wait, Novice. That is all we can do.”

  Seconds rolled by as the intensity of the aerial bombardment increased; then a white flash followed almost immediately by an explosive detonation so powerful that it knocked them off their feet.

  Azhan broke free of Tinok as they hit the ground. Battle training took over and he was instantly back on his feet staring at the wall of debris headed their way. It appeared as if every building in Tapu had disintegrated and now rode a wave of destruction toward them in an ever-widening wake.

  Magical words flew from his mouth and an earthen berm six feet high and twenty wide rose protectively between them and the approaching outflow of stone.

  “Down!”

  Jiron grabbed Jira in a protective hug and threw himself against the base of the earthen barrier. The others followed suit as the ground shook and the air filled with a roar like the charge of a thousand Parvatis.

  Horses screamed and fled, but they were not fast enough. The wall of debris hit the berm with a vengeance. Two sections caved in and another vanished altogether under the initial onslaught as parts of what used to be the city of Tapu struck with incredible force.

  Clutching Jira all the harder, Jiron closed his eyes and knew they had lived their last. A section of berm less than an arm’s length away blasted outward when a massive section of wall with part of a staircase slammed into it. Despite the layer of earth, his back took a beating as the wave of destruction rolled over them…then it was past.

  He waited a moment to see if a second wave might be approaching before he shook off the dirt covering his head and glanced around. Of their campfire there was no sign; starlight was all they had.

  Groans came from all over and off in the distance, a horse screamed in pain.

  “Father?”

  “Shhh, Jira. It’s past.”

  Their camp was no more

  Light blossomed to his right and he turned to find Father Keller aglow with the light of Morcyth rising from a pile of debris with young Kip.

  “Anyone hurt?”

  A second point of light sprang into being as Father Vickor came to his feet. He glanced questioningly to Jiron.

  Jiron shook his head. “We’re okay.”

  “I think Potbelly is hurt.”

  Scar’s proclamation was immediately followed by a dismissive curse from his partner.

  Jiron motioned Jira to remain on the ground as he got to his feet. “Shorty?”

  “Here,” came the weak reply.

  The knife-thrower lay at an awkward angle, one leg bent at the wrong angle.

  Father Vickor rushed to his aid and Morcyth’s glow soon encompassed the injured man.

  Tinok emerged in the priest’s glow without so much as even a scrape. “Looks like we all survived.” Then he glanced to the darkness leading away from Tapu. “But I think we walk from here.” His eyes roved from one to another until they came to rest on Azhan. Narrowing, they contemplated the young mage.

  Jiron followed his gaze and saw Azhan looking fearfully toward the knifer.

  “He saved us.” Then to the mage, “Quick thinking.”

  “It seemed the prudent thing to do.”

  “Yes,” agreed Father Keller. “We would have suffered worse had you not acted.” He gave the mage a nod.

  Tinok turned toward his friend. “He didn’t do it for us.”

  Jira came to her feet and looked back to where Tapu lay in the dark. Of the lights that once illuminated the Empire town, there was no sign. It lay as dark as a graveyard on a moonless night.

  “What of Uncle?”

  Jiron glanced down to his daughter. “I’m sure he survived. He usually does.” Then to Scar and Potbelly, “Round up any horses that might have survived.”

  From where Potbelly worked to get the campfire going again, he snorted. “I don’t think that likely.”

  “Neither do I, but we need to find out. Take Kip and gather what can be salvaged from those that didn’t.”

  “Me, too,” offered Jira.

  About to argue the point, Jiron paused then nodded. “Yes, you help too. Father Keller?”

  The priest turned from where he watched Father Vickor work on Shorty.

  “You and I are going into Tapu.”

  Father Vickor nodded.

  Jiron caught Tinok’s attention then jerked his head toward Azhan. “Watch him.”

  “Count on it.”

  From behind him, Jiron heard Scar say, “Here.” When he turned, the Pit Master handed him a lit torch. “Be careful.”

  “We will.”

  Taking the torch, Jiron patted Jira on the head then he and Father Vickor set out at a run toward Tapu.

  The going was rough as a patchwork of debris ranging in size from rubble the size of a man’s hand to entire sections of buildings marred the landscape. At one point, the torch illuminated the upper half of a bronze statue; head, torso, and an upraised right arm was all that remained.

  As he ran, Jiron sought any sign that James and Miko yet lived. He had seen the pair encounter worse than this and come out with but scrapes and bruises.

  Father Vickor remained silent; whatever fears he held he kept to himself.

  The farther they progressed, the larger the rubble became. Not far after encountering an entire building resting on its side, the field of debris ended. Jiron slowed as he took in ground that looked like a giant plane had removed the top few inches of topsoil and everything else that had stood upon it. Raw earth, scorched in places, was all that remained of Tapu.

  “Look!”

  Father Vickor’s hand gripped his shoulder as the priest pointed to a light in the distance ahead. “They’re alive.”

  Breaking into a run, they raced forward.

  It soon became apparent that the light was the white glow of Morcyth. Miko knelt over James who appeared to be unconscious. When he was but a hundred feet away, Miko turned his head toward them.

  “Ware the ground!”

  The light radiating outward from the High Priest revealed a deep pit encircling where he sat with the Dark Mage. It began several feet from where Miko knelt and spread outward in all directions for quite some distance before rising to meet the ground. The deepest section lay on the far side where the seed had been.

  Jiron slowed and came to a stop where the ground began its descent. Raising his voice he hollered, “Are you okay?”

  “I am, yes. James, on the other hand, was knocked out prior to the explosion.”

  Father Vickor came to stand next to Jiron. As he scanned the pit that separated them, he asked, “Reverend Father, do you require assistance?” Its depth was uncertain as the glow emanating from Miko failed to reach the bottom. What could be seen indicated the drop from where Miko sat was easily thirty feet, if not more.

  “No. I have done all I can for him. Though I cannot wake him, I am confident that he is sleeping and will wake when his body no longer requires him in such a state.”

  “Father Vickor.”

  The priest glanced to Jiron.

  “Return to the others and bring them here.”

  “What of the Reverend Father and the Dark Mage?”

  “They will be okay for the moment. We need to get the others and depart this place quickly before someone comes investigating.”

  Nodding, the priest made obeisance to Miko then hurried back to the camp.

  While waiting for the good Father’s return, Jiron walked the edge of the pit. The light of his torch revealed that from the lip, the slope gradually inc
reased in angle until it was near a sheer drop. He continued around in the hopes of trying to discover a way of reaching Miko and James. Unfortunately, the pit only grew deeper and wider as he worked his way to the far side.

  “He never does anything in half measure, does he?”

  “No,” Miko replied, “he does not.”

  “Try to get him to do things, and he balks. ‘It might alert the enemy,’ ‘Can’t take the chance of being seen.’ Then when he does…” Mumbling, he finished his circuit of the hole and came to a stop in his earlier position.

  By this time, the glow of Morcyth had been reduced to where it only encompassed Miko. James remained on the ground next to him.

  “We lost the horses.”

  Miko nodded. “I thought as much. Did James’ items from his world survive?”

  “I got Scar and the rest gathering what can be saved. We’ll find out soon enough.”

  To have lost those suits James said would protect them from the deadly radiation infesting what once had been The Mists of Sorrow would be a sore blow indeed. How else could they retrieve the Star and survive? Offering up a prayer to Morcyth, Miko waited.

  “Father!”

  Jira’s cry announced the others’ arrival. She raced out of the dark and wrapped her arms around his middle. The embrace was short lived however, for when she saw the hole and the precarious position of James and Miko, she gasped and released her father.

  “What happened?”

  “Your Uncle. That’s what happened.”

  A horse’s snort drew the knifer’s attention.

  Scar emerged from the darkness with a pack slung over one shoulder. His hand held the reins of two horses that followed behind. Each had lost patches of hide and bore numerous, freshly healed scars. “These are all that Father Keller could save. Most of the others weren’t even alive.”

  Jiron nodded.

  “And Shorty?”

  Potbelly entered the light’s radius. He jerked his head toward the darkness behind him. “Back with Father Keller. He’ll make it. The Father said he should return to his former vigor in a couple days.” Two packs were strapped to the Pit Master’s back and each hand held a sack.