Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two

by Brian S. Pratt

  Not to be denied, Scar lit the second tube, held it aloft and did his best to avoid the shower of sparks as the tube rocketed its fiery package into the night sky. Another brilliant explosion banished the darkness for a moment, but then faded quickly.

  Potbelly rested a hand on his dagger and cocked his head to better hear. Once again, time passed without a creature putting in an appearance. When Scar reached for a third tube, Potbelly said, “Don’t. There is nothing out there.”

  “There has to be.”

  “Look,” he said, “we have another day. We’ll search in the morning for more tracks. This time we’ll follow them.”

  “Or push further in.”

  Potbelly shook his head. “And risk dying? No thank you. We’ve already gone as far as we dare.”

  Scar had that stubborn look that always meant headaches for Potbelly.

  “Fine, one more,” Potbelly finally said. “But if it fails to yield results, we turn in.”

  “Fair enough.”

  He lit the wick, colorful blast rocked the night, and nothing.

  “Damn waste of time,” Scar grumbled, tossing the spent tube into the fire. He stared off into the night.

  “I’ll take the first watch,” Potbelly offered.

  Turning back to him, Scar nodded. “Okay.”

  Potbelly stoked the fire and then set to walk the perimeter, making sure not to gaze toward the flames as he didn’t want to ruin his night vision. He glanced back to his friend. “We’ll get one tomorrow,” he whispered. “And if not, we still have a long trail ahead of us before this is over.” With Scar’s snores as company, he continued another circuit around the camp.

  The following morning they were on their way as the sun crested the horizon. Alexander’s equipment was again stored upon the pack horses.

  Morning came and went without a sighting. Noon faded to mid-afternoon then to late afternoon. Just as they were about to call it a day and set up camp, a lumbering form was spied at the edge of vision deep within the Waste.

  “Yes!” Scar cried. Slinging a leg over the saddle he slid to the ground. “Come on,” he hollered as he raced to the pack horses. “Let’s get set up.”

  Potbelly got the four poles and wooden chest. He set the poles in the ground while Scar took the horses off a ways and secured them to a dead tree where they would be safe. By the time Scar returned with two Illuminator tubes in hand, he found the four poles set in the ground and Potbelly down on one knee as he opened the chest.

  Across the center of the chest was a plank of wood with six circular holes, two lines of three, each roughly four inches across. Set within five were perfect spheres made of some sort of ceramic; the sixth hole was empty. A single crystal with a faint glow was embedded in each. A line of what looked like crystalline shards or dust created a thin band that completely encircled the sphere dividing it into two separate hemispheres. One half was a deep red color while the other was an off-white.

  For whatever reason, Alexander had produced six containment spheres instead of the one they had originally bargained for. He gave no reason and Scar wasn’t one to question good fortune when it fell into his lap. Potbelly paused a moment upon seeing the sixth, empty hole. He couldn’t help but smile as he recalled how it came to be empty.

  “Set the poles and have the creature run between them before activating the sphere. Let me be very clear here,” Alexander had said, “the creature must be completely within the poles. If you activate the sphere and any part of the creature is without, it won’t work and you will have wasted one.”

  “But how do we do that?”

  Alexander turned to Potbelly. “Have it chase one of you while the other stands ready with the sphere.”

  Scar didn’t look happy. “This isn’t what we wanted.”

  “Yes, it is,” Alexander asserted. “For what you wish to do, this is it. Take it or not.”

  “How do we know it will work?”

  “What? My word is not good enough?”

  “We demand to see that our money was not wasted,” Scar said. “I don’t plan to be in a tight situation and not know if these work.”

  “As you wish.”

  Alexander took the four poles and set them in their square formation near one of the cavern walls. He then removed a sphere from the chest and turned to the wall behind the poles.

  “Watch.”

  Raising his staff, he spoke a single word and the crystals atop it flared brightly. A rumbling noise sounded and the wall behind the poles began to rise. When it cleared three feet from the floor, it stopped. A second later, a snarling dog shot through.

  Scar drew his swords and took a step back.

  The dog entered the area marked off by the poles; Alexander said the word of activation and the four poles flared white. The dog was gone.

  “Where did it go?” Potbelly asked.

  Alexander held out the sphere. “It is in here.”

  Potbelly took the sphere and gauged its weight. “It doesn’t feel any different.”

  “No, it won’t.”

  Scar gazed skeptically at it. “How do we know it’s in there and that this isn’t a trick?”

  “Say the word of release I taught you.”

  Potbelly eyed the sphere then glanced to Scar who nodded.

  “Go ahead.”

  About to say the word, he was stopped by Alexander’s staff tapping him on the shoulder. “It might be prudent to set the sphere down and back away before you do. You wouldn’t want whatever is inside to materialize right on top of you.”

  “Good point.”

  He crossed to the pillar wherein they had deposited their ten coins and set it on top. Backing fifteen feet away, he drew his sword and said the word of release.

  Instantly the dog appeared and continued in its charge as if it had not been imprisoned at all. Before it could reach them, Alexander’s staff flashed and it was grabbed by an unseen force. It growled and snapped as it was carried back to and then through the opening through which it had first appeared. Once it was within, the wall slid shut.

  “There,” Alexander said. “Did that satisfy you?”

  Potbelly nodded. “I’ll say.”

  Scar nodded slowly as he walked to where the sphere sat upon the pedestal. Its surface was scarred and pitted; the crystal lay shattered.

  “What’s this?” he exclaimed as he rounded on Alexander.

  “Each sphere has but one use. Once whatever it contains is released, the magic is spent.”

  “But you wasted one!”

  “On the contrary,” Alexander said, “I simply acquiesced to my customer’s desire for a demonstration. As I had no other spheres with which to use, I used what was available.”

  Scar did not look pleased in the least.

  “Thank you,” Potbelly said, stepping between the two. “We appreciate all your help.” He turned to Scar. “I’m sure five will more than suffice.” When Scar looked to be dug in and planning to be mulish, he added, “Especially since we came here expecting but one.” Potbelly put extra emphasis on the “one.”

  Scar’s blustering all the way back to the City of Light greatly amused Potbelly. As far as he was concerned, they have an extra four and couldn’t see what the fuss was about. He couldn’t help but point out that it had been Scar’s insistence on a demonstration that had cost them the sixth sphere. Each time he brought up that fact, it elicited a prolonged tirade full of colorful metaphors.

  Scar saw his grin as he stood with the sphere. “Don’t you start.”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about,” Potbelly replied in all innocence. Then he chuckled. “You going to be the rabbit, or should I?”

  “I better,” Scar said. “You couldn’t keep up.”

  Potbelly let that go. “As you wish.”

  The creature continued moving laterally across the horizon, as yet unaware of their presence. Scar hurried farther out toward it then used flint and steel to light one of the tubes. As the wick ignited, he held
the wick of the second tube to the top and when the first tube launched its fiery projectile, the wick of the second tube was lit. A moment later the second tube shot forth in a blaze of sparks.

  Scar tossed the spent tubes to the ground and began hopping up and down, waving his arms.

  “Hey, you! Over here!”

  Having stopped after the first explosion, the creature turned their way. The stalks on its head were clearly visible and Scar shouted all the louder. This would do just fine. But it didn’t approach. It merely stood there looking their way.

  “What’s wrong with it?” Potbelly asked. “Doesn’t it want fresh meat?”

  “I’ll get closer,” Scar shouted over his shoulder then hustled farther out into the desert. He closed to within fifty feet before it made any move.

  Lumbering forward, it made for Scar.

  He picked up a stone and threw it; had the satisfaction of seeing it land amidst the stalks.

  The creature roared and charged.

  “Run!” Potbelly shouted.

  Scar didn’t need any encouragement. Heading back at full speed, he aimed for the poles.

  Seventy-five feet away, the creature roared.

  Glancing over his shoulder, Scar saw that it was gaining. He redoubled his speed.

  At fifty feet from the poles he felt several points of sharp pain in his back and one at the base of his neck. Stumbling, he kept going.

  Twenty feet… and the world grew foggy. It was by sheer force of will that his legs kept pumping. Potbelly shouted at him but he couldn’t make out what it was. The world started tipping sideways.

  Five feet from the poles he lost his balance and hit the ground. Something flew over his head as he tried to get to his feet.

  “Crawl, damn you!”

  He was aware of the poles on either side. Ahead was Potbelly waving him forward, the sphere in his hand.

  One arm reached out, then a leg pushed him a few inches forward; bit by bit he crept toward Potbelly. He had forgotten why he was crawling, or why Potbelly was so insistent that he do so.

  “Almost,” Potbelly said.

  Scar collapsed between the far set of poles, unable to will his body to move. He felt a hand grab his shirt and pull him violently forward. Then the world went blank.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Eddra woke the morning of the second day at the old farmhouse. Though her good eye opened and she took water and a heavy broth, she failed to respond to any of Azhan’s questions or comments. Whether she even understood him was in doubt. He would ask questions and she would lay there unresponsive. The only time she moved was when presented with food. Then her mouth opened, she drank and continued staring at nothing.

  “Is she addled?” asked Jiron.

  Father Vickor shook his head. “I do not think so.”

  “My great aunt went crazy at about her age,” Shorty said. “Couldn’t remember who she was or any of the family. One day she wandered away and we found her body several days later.”

  Jira’s eyes widened. “What killed her?”

  “We never found out.”

  She turned to Jiron. “Is that what happened to her, Father?”

  “Shhh, let Father Vickor figure it out.”

  Nodding solemnly, she turned to the priest.

  “I sense nothing wrong with her, Jira,” Father Vickor assured her. “It is possible that the blow to her head could have done some damage to which I am unaware.” He looked to their patient and she was already asleep.

  “Sleep will fix what ails her, if anything can.”

  “I hope so,” Jira said. She went to Eddra’s side and with a damp cloth, dabbed at her forehead.

  “Keep an eye on her, okay?”

  Jira nodded. “I will.”

  Father Vickor indicated for Jiron to accompany him outside.

  “I did not want to say anything in front of Jira,” he said quietly, “but I fear she may not survive.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “No, and so there is some room for hope. Healing is an art, one which I have unfortunately not practiced enough. Back at the temple there are others more adept than I.”

  “Do what you can.”

  “As Morcyth wills.”

  James woke to find Miko staring off toward the Star.

  “Still there?”

  Miko turned at his voice, a grave expression on his face.

  “What is it?”

  “I am not sure.” Returning to gaze off toward the Star, he said, “Something does not feel right.”

  “Is it still singing to you?”

  “Oh yes. That has not changed. It is only…”

  James came to stand next to him. “Only what?”

  “I do not know,” he sighed. “Have you ever entered a room and caught just the barest whiff of an unfamiliar odor? There for a moment then never to return?”

  “Sometimes,” James replied, unsure exactly what he was talking about. “Is it concerning the Star, or where we are?”

  “The Star, I think.”

  “Maybe it is just impatient to be reunited with you.”

  Miko chuckled. “Your words are truer than you know.”

  “Just don’t start calling it ‘my precious’ or anything like that.”

  “But it is precious.”

  James laid a hand on his arm. “Now, I was just kidding. But seriously, don’t.”

  Miko eyed him quizzically for a moment, then nodded. “As you wish.”

  “Thank you.”

  Their patch of vines was nearly surrounded by the stalky creatures. James enlisted Miko’s aid in gathering stones with which he could dispatch them. He’d rather use stones than his “assassin” spell; that spell made him feel…unclean for some reason.

  After every third or fourth creature was slain, James would watch the sky for any sign of the shimmering. He began to believe that his theory on it responding only to prolonged magic usage was correct for it never materialized. With intermittent rests to avoid attracting the shimmering field, it took nearly an hour until the last creature on the edge of the vines was taken out; dozens more still roamed in all directions.

  Once the way was clear, they left the patch and Miko led the way to the Star.

  “Be there by noon,” he said.

  “Let’s hope so,” James replied. “Sooner we get it the sooner we will be able to leave this place behind.”

  Less than a half hour away from the vine patch, James’ attention was drawn to a stalky creature off to their right. What it was about that particular one that had caught his eye he hadn’t at first figured out. But then realization set in. Where all others were moving either away from the center of the Waste, or laterally to it, this one was moving directly for it, and not in the familiar loping gait used by the others. This one moved quickly.

  Two stones flew in quick succession and took out a couple stalkers heading their way. Then a third, and still James kept casting glances toward the fast-moving creature. It was far enough away so as not to pose a threat.

  “It has something.”

  Miko’s words brought to clarity what had bothered him. The two tentacle-like appendages, similar to those with which the other creature had carried Jira, held something close to its underbelly; something about the size of a child.

  James turned to Miko but the high priest was already in motion. Racing after, James readied a stone for when he drew close enough. At this distance, even with magical assistance, he dared not risk hitting what it carried.

  Miko’s sword leapt from its scabbard as he ran. He was nearly upon the creature when he came to a sudden stop; he held up his hand.

  “It is not a child,” he said.

  What the creature held was covered in fur and a tail poked out from between where the tentacle-like arms encircled it.

  “Dog?” James asked.

  “Most likely, or some other predator.”

  Despite the fact that they were within twenty feet of the stalker, a distance that before had al
ways drawn the creature’s attention, this one paid them no heed, merely continued on its way. A stone took it in the side and blasted out the other, causing the creature to collapse.

  Miko approached.

  “Careful,” James advised. “It may be radioactive.”

  The high priest nodded. Using his sword, he severed one of the tentacles and worked to unravel it from around the animal.

  “Dog,” Miko announced when enough of the canine had been revealed. Its chest rose and fell. “Alive, too. But unconscious.”

  “Must have used its poisoned darts on it.”

  Most likely.”

  “Carrying it back to its den perhaps?”

  Miko glanced to him and shrugged. “Maybe.” Then he glanced about the area. More of the stalkers were en route toward them. “We should continue on.”

  “Yeah, and quickly.” Picking up three stones from the ground, he used one on a stalker that had gotten too close and another on a stalker along their intended path. The third he held ready.

  Setting out, Miko kept a brisk pace while James followed along behind.

  Less than an hour passed before they saw another stalker with a victim hugged to its underbelly. It too was heading into the Waste. This one carried a woman. After they reached the creature and James took it out, they saw that she no longer lived. Her skin was a deep red, dried blood caked about her eyes and patches of her hair were missing.

  “It must have been carrying her for some time.”

  “Why do you say that?” Miko asked.

  “Radiation poisoning,” James replied. “Would have taken a couple days for her to succumb to it….” He paused a moment then said, “Unless they normally radiate a lethal amount.”

  Miko glanced to him.

  “A high dose can kill you quickly. Or so I understand.”

  Morcyth’s glow surrounded Miko then flowed to the woman. He nodded his head. “Yes, I see the damage. It is identical to what we found in the birds.”

  “I thought so.”

  Two more stones and the area was once more clear.

  James pointed off to the east. “There’s another.”