“That is unbelievable,” agreed Scar.
“And now, just yesterday, heard how it is caused by a witch that lives in the area. That she is responsible for the stillbirths and many unexplained deaths. Supposedly she even makes the sky shimmer, even at night.”
At mention of a shimmering sky, his four customers grew solemn and cast glances from one to another. For they, too, had seen the sky shimmer.
“Shimmer?”
Master Aki turned to Azhan. “Yes, young mage, shimmer. Maybe she’s one of yours?”
Azhan shook his head. “I would have heard of an old matron mage of that power.”
“Exactly,” the merchant agreed. “Probably just some old woman who keeps to herself and people love to gossip don’t you know.”
“Yes,” Azhan replied, “they do.”
“The wilder the tale,” Scar said, “the faster it spreads.”
“Isn’t that the truth.”
Placing their items in four sacks, Master Aki told them how much.
Scar haggled a bit then handed over the money. “Appreciate the tale.”
“My pleasure. Take care and have safe journeys.”
They each took a sack as Scar said, “Thank you.”
After meeting up with the others, Scar was quick to relate to James Master Aki’s words about Gyr.
“We stopped into three taverns in different parts of town and they were all talking about it. A few details varied from place to place but on one thing they were all the same.”
James turned to him. “The shimmering in the sky?”
Scar nodded. “Yes. That and the old lady were there throughout all the stories. Most had the stillbirths and the flock of birds while others had different things like cows giving sour milk.”
“One even spoke of a two-headed snake the size of a man that slithered through Gyr,” Azhan said. “It supposedly took a baby boy right out of its mother’s arms.”
About to respond, James caught sight of the quick glance Scar and Potbelly exchanged. He turned to them. “Don’t even think about it.”
“What?” they said in unison.
He glared at them a moment then turned to Miko. “What do you think?”
“I do not know what to think,” the high priest replied. “Is the old woman responsible for the shimmering? Is there a two-headed snake that steals children?” He shrugged then paused a moment. “With the Waste nearby, that last is at least probable. Fearful creatures have emerged from that region of death. Take the remains of the one near our camp a few nights back.”
James nodded.
…put it in Pit Five…
…charge a gold just to look at it…
…feed it dogs or cats…
…or condemned prisoners. They’re always looking to get rid of…
Whispers drew his attention back to the pair and the glare he shot them brought their conversation to an abrupt halt. The two Pit Masters tried looking innocent. James didn’t buy it.
“Do you think there could be any truth to the old woman being responsible for the shimmering we saw in the sky?”
“I find it unlikely,” Miko replied.
“Well, it had to come from somewhere,” Father Vickor interjected.
“True enough.”
James considered it a moment then turned to Scar. “How far is Gyr? Out of our way?”
The Pit Master shook his head. “To the southeast a ways. Could be there in a few hours. As far as we could tell, it’s the closest village to the Waste that hasn’t been deserted.”
“Okay. We’ll make for Gyr at first light. See if we can discover anything about that shimmering.”
Arrayed before him were a dozen of the most mouth-watering tarts. Word had circulated from one baker to another about his weakness for them and yet another of their brethren had arrived with samples of his best.
“The red-berry tart is exceptionally good, Reverend Father.”
Miko picked one that oozed dark juices and took a tentative bite. He had long since realized that not all tarts were worthy to be eaten. Some were just bad while others, though being tolerable, should be avoided in favor of the best. This baker being unfamiliar, cautioned seemed the wisest avenue.
Flaky crust gave way to extraordinarily delicious flavor. As the juice burst from its shell, no less than three separate berries could be distinctly discerned. Each would have been wonderful on their own, but together, exquisite.
The baker looked on expectantly as Miko placed the rest of the tart into his mouth.
“Very good, master baker.”
Beaming, the baker said, “I am so glad to hear it.”
Miko ate another and if anything, it tasted better than the previous. A third followed, then a fourth. About to try a fifth, the door opened and Father Vallin walked in.
“Reverend Father?”
“Yes?”
“You are needed.”
Miko sighed and looked longingly at the remaining tarts before him. “Very well.” To the baker he said, “Let Father Keller know the location of your bakery for I may in the future wish to procure more of your most delicious pastries.”
The man bowed. “I shall, Reverend Father.”
Turning, Miko followed Father Vallin from the room. The priest set a brisk pace as they wended their way through the passageways of Morcyth’s High Temple. He laid a hand on the pommel of his sword though he couldn’t recall having donned his sword belt.
Father Vallin broke into a run when the front door came into sight. Miko quickened his pace. Wind whipped through the opening and dark clouds formed above at an alarming rate.
“What is going on?” Miko asked.
Father Vallin stopped just outside the door. Standing still, he gazed up at the dark mass of clouds churning overhead.
Miko reached to touch his shoulder but before he could connect, the priest drew his sword, shouted an inarticulate word, and raced forward.
He made to follow but a baby’s terrified cry brought him to a halt. As Father Vallin raced from view, Miko searched for the source of the cry. It sounded again to his left, and if the high-pitchedness of the cry was any indication, the babe was in trouble.
Racing down the street, he heard it again from within a building just up ahead. He hurried forward and smashed through the door.
A young man in his late teens, beset by five hooded men stood in the middle of the room. His right hand wielded a sword, his left clutched a babe tight to his chest.
One hooded man darted forward and the young man lunged with his sword, catching the hooded man in his chest. As the blade withdrew amidst a spray of blood, the others rushed him.
Cursing, the young man swung his sword as he sidestepped, but was not fast enough. One pair of arms ensnared his sword arm, another wrapped around his neck and jerked back his head.
Stumbling, the young man’s grip on the babe slackened and it was snatched away.
Miko had seen enough. Wading in with sword drawn, he dropped the fifth man who had noticed his approach and had moved to intercept. Then he rushed the man with the babe.
The child screamed and cried as the hooded man backed away from his approaching death.
“Let go the child.”
The two men faced off as the other two hooded figures tussled with the young man.
“You wish to save this child, priest?”
Miko kept sword at the ready. Fear that the man would harm the babe stayed his hand.
“I do,” he replied.
Keeping sword at the ready, Miko cast quick, tentative glances over to where the young man continued tussling with the other two hooded figures.
“Then save her.”
Taking the babe by the arm, the hooded man flung her toward an open window. The child screamed mightily as she arched end over end through the air.
Miko took two steps then leapt, catching the babe before she could pass through the opening. He then twisted and landed upon his back.
The child immediately calmed.<
br />
“Noooo!” screamed the young man as he vanished through the back door in the grip of the hooded men.
Torn between going after the young man, or staying with the child in his arms, he finally set down the babe and raced to the doorway through which the hooded figures had gone. The child’s screams once again rose to a fevered pitch.
Miko reached the doorway only to find the hooded men and the young man gone. He glanced back at the squalling babe and for a second, indecision as to the best course of action held him at the doorway. But then the babe’s cries grew shriller still and he hurried back to her. As soon as he picked her up and nestled her close to his breast, she quieted.
“It will be fine,” he whispered.
She smiled; then cooed happily.
The babe couldn’t have been more than six months old and had the beginnings of brown locks that curled ever so gently. Her big eyes stared into his. They were not the normal blue that most babes had upon entering the world. In fact, they didn’t even match; brown for the right and hazel for the left.
A quick check revealed she suffered no injuries, not even a bruise.
“Who was that young man?” Miko said as he walked toward the front of the house. “Your father? Brother perhaps? And who were those men?”
She took his finger and squeezed it tight.
Miko smiled at her and she smiled back.
A mighty clap of thunder shook the walls. The babe reacted not at all.
Miko rushed to the doorway. Tendril of darkness spiraled out of the black cloud-mass filling the sky. People screamed and raced to and fro. The world flashed brightly as lightning shattered a fountain just outside.
Blinded and thrown backward several feet by the following thunderous concussion wave, Miko lost his balance. He clutched the babe to him tightly as he hit the floor.
A second blast rolled over them before he could regain his feet. A third sought to lay him down yet again, and a fourth left his ears ringing. When his eyes could make out more than a blur, he saw rubble where the wall facing the street had once stood.
Thunder echoed throughout the city. It’s booming drowned out all sound, so quickly did one follow after another.
“The temple,” he shouted. “We have to get to the temple!”
Gale force winds whipped him as he struggled through the rubble. Down the street, priests stood arrayed along the temple’s outer walls. Magic flowed as they sought to shield Morcyth’s temple from the storm’s ferocious onslaught.
Each step was a battle; gusts of terrible might slammed into him forcing him back almost two steps for every three he took. He came abreast of Asran’s small temple. Dozens of priests called upon their god’s power. Guiding their efforts, Asran’s high priest wielded a staff of yew. Tendrils of green sprouted from every stone of the temple. They wove an intricate shield that quickly grew to cover the entire building.
Miko met the high Priest’s gaze just as the first blast of lightning slammed into the temple. The blast knocked him to the ground.
Zzzzzt! Zzzzzt! Zzzzzt!Zzzzzt!Zzzzzt!
Green tendrils turned black; five priests fell unconscious beneath a deadly series of strikes.
The walls shuddered as wind whipped into them.
Zzzzzt! Zzzzzt!
Priests fell and cracks formed.
Miko clutched the babe protectively as another lightning blitz struck.
More priests hit the ground; protective vines withered and died, then a blast of blinding white struck the tip of the high priest’s staff.
Searing light blinded him as the thunderous concussive wave lifted him off the ground and slammed him into a wall twenty feet away. Somehow he kept hold of the babe. It took several precious moments before his eyes could once again focus on the world around him. First the sight of the baby girl smiling up at him; then what was left the Asran’s temple.
Bodies, some broken, others charred, lay scattered amidst the rubble. The temple was utterly destroyed. Of the high priest there was no sign, only a charred pit where he had stood.
Zzzzzt!
The roiling darkness above continued raining arcs of destruction into the City of Light. Between the clashes of thunder other buildings could be heard collapsing.
“Come on, little girl,” Miko said as he got to his feet, “we need to get you to safety.” Then with prayers to Morcyth, he ventured from the relative safety of the wall and headed back to the temple.
The wind, if anything, blew all the harder. Headway was nigh-on impossible but he fought for every inch. Up ahead he saw Father Vickor standing upon the steps before the great doors to the temple. Morcyth’s glow surrounded him as well as the priests arrayed behind him.
Zzzzzt!
Lightning struck the shield protecting the temple.
Zzzzzt!
And again…and again.
Miko summoned Morcyth’s power to him and progress against the wind improved.
The lightning was unrelenting as it struck the temple. Priests, his priests and friends fell beneath the onslaught.
Father Vickor stood with mace in hand looking for all the world like the street brawler he had been before donning holy vestments and vowing to do naught but good. He had been among the first to be called to Morcyth and one Miko depended on most. Alternating between shouting obscenities at the sky and prayers to Morcyth, he sought through sheer grit and strength of will to hold back the storm.
Zzzzzt! Zzzzzt!
Lightning struck.
“Morcyth protect…,” the rest was lost in the wind.
Zzzzzt!
“You devil-son-of-a…”
Three blasts in quick succession rocked the shield and for a moment, it wavered. A fourth strike made it through and blasted away a section of the front façade. Miko prayed for Morcyth to strengthen it and before the fifth hit, it again grew strong.
As if angered by the temerity of these priests, the storm redoubled its effort and hit with a massive wave of strikes. One after another they slammed into the protective shield; Miko was again blinded and knocked to the ground.
He laid there curled around the babe calling upon Morcyth to protect them, to protect the temple. Still the strikes continued. Each sent a wave of force that felt like someone had kicked him. Unable to rise, unable to do naught but lay there until it was over, he formed a protective shield around himself and the babe to ride it out.
Then there was silence. It lasted a moment, then another.
Opening his eyes he saw Father Vickor standing alone amidst the fallen priests. Behind him the temple remained standing.
Father Vickor turned to Miko with a sad expression.
“It’s over.”
About to reply, Miko watched his friend pitch forward lifelessly. Cracks formed and spider-webbed their way across the temple’s stone façade.
“No!” he cried and lurched to his feet.
He called for the power of Morcyth but the glow failed to appear. Fear rose as he searched the many places within him where he had always found his god. But each place was empty.
Sections of stone broke off and fell away to crash mightily against the ground.
“Morcyth!”
Imploding upon itself, the once grand temple vanished in a massive clamorous cloud of dust and debris.
“Reverend Father?”
Awakening in a cold sweat, Miko saw Father Keller kneeling next to his bedroll; off to their right walked Father Vickor with Kip and Jira in tow.
“What…?”
“The Dark Mage says it is time we were underway.”
Scar and Potbelly were securing their gear on the pack horses, James stood with Jiron away from the camp deep in conversation.
Father Keller gave him a worried look. “Are you all right, Reverend Father?”
Miko sought Morcyth and found him. Holding up his hand, he brought forth the glow. Then he nodded. “Yes. Let us make ready.”
Already the details of the dream were fading away as dreams always do. They faded st
ill further as he collected his belongings and mounted his horse. As they rode for Gyr, a shudder went through him as Father Keller’s words echoed yet again: It’s over.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Two hours later they encountered the smell of death and decay. Brought in on a southerly breeze, it had to have originated somewhere near Gyr.
“Gah,” Potbelly exclaimed, then put a cloth over his nose and mouth to ward off the fetid odor. “Haven’t smelled anything this bad since the war.”
“What is it, father?”
Jiron glanced to his daughter. She had the collar of her shirt up over her nose though he could tell that had little effect.
“Probably an animal died,” he assured her. “Remember that dog we found in the alley by our house?”
She nodded, then smiled. “Mother had thought it was you.”
Jiron laughed. “I’m bad at times, Jira; but that smell curled my toe hairs.”
Scar and Potbelly nudged their horses to a quicker pace and rode ahead, uncertain that the odor would be as innocent as that. They’d smelled a dead dog before and it hadn’t been nearly this overpowering; a field of fallen soldiers that hadn’t been seen to properly, maybe; but a dog? They wouldn’t believe that unless he saw it for himself.
They came to a stop upon spying dark forms lying in a field up ahead. “I think we found the source of the odor,” Scar observed.
Potbelly nodded. “Too big to be people.”
They advanced cautiously and found the dark forms to be cows. Hundreds lay scattered across several acres. Scar had them wait for James. He pointed to the dead animals when the others caught up.
“Should we investigate?”
James thought a moment, then shook his head. “No. This close to Gyr, I’m sure we’ll hear all about it when we get there.”
“As you wish.”
Taking the lead again, the pair of Pit Masters continued along the road.
Some of the fallen herd lay fairly close to the road. The beasts looked to have been fat and healthy before they died. How this had happened to them remained a mystery for there were no indications as to what killed them. A few showed signs of scavengers, but nothing that would have caused death.
Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two Page 33
