“What did you do?” James asked, glancing toward the pit.
Ichor streamed along the sides of the structure in ever growing amounts. James grew worried for Miko; feared that he would be unable to avoid coming into contact with it. Wending his way around the now numerous puddles of the green stuff, he returned to the edge of the pit.
Miko had worked his way a third of the way back up the pit. Many of the anchor-lines had come loose from the tremors wracking the structure. He watched as his friend swung up to one, grabbed hold then climbed up. As he reached for the next, the anchor line he stood upon gave way and only quick reflexes allowed him to grab hold and avoid falling to the green pool below.
From one anchor line to another, Miko worked his way nearer to the top. James could see how green ichor coated much of Miko’s suit; watched as a fissure opened and rained a deluge upon him. He hoped Morcyth was lending a hand in preventing his high priest from succumbing to the radioactivity.
A tug on his boot drew his attention to several green tendrils that had wrapped themselves around it. Three feet away a tube had completely broken open and the tendrils were snaking everywhere. Several others had likewise completely split apart; each producing dozens of green tendrils snaking this way and that.
He pulled his boot back to break their hold but his efforts proved ineffective. Using his assassin’s spell, he utilized microbursts of magic to form shields and shear the parts gripping him from the rest.
Each burst caused the sky to shimmer and his skin to prickle. But being so quick, the shimmering field had no time in which to alter the spells. Other tendrils moved toward him and he treated them the same.
After the twentieth time, he could feel his grip on the spells begin to falter, even though they were cast and done in less time than it took a heart to beat. Yet still the tendril came on.
At first, their movements seemed random, but as he continued “trimming” them, they grew more focused. It was almost as if they knew he was there. When ten tendrils shot toward him at once, his doubt was gone. They knew he was there and were after him.
Each spell utilized only a microburst of magic. But when a dozen or more were cast nearly simultaneously, their short durations failed to stave off the effects of the shimmering field above.
The whole area swarmed with tendrils. Wherever a conveyance tube had ruptured, they had emerged. Those nearest James drove toward him as if wielded by some intelligence bent on his destruction. No sooner would tendrils be severed via his assassin spell than they would commence to regrow at an astounding rate before seeking him out once again.
His arms tingled nearly constantly now. The shimmering field above had grown more pronounced and each time he cast his spell he had to concentrate just a little bit harder in order to achieve his desired outcome.
“Come on,” he breathed to Miko below.
Three vines shot forward at once.
Snip... tendril severed…
Snip…tendril severed…
Snafu…
First spell cast perfectly. The second felt a little off. The third hemorrhaged magic as its underlying matrix warped. Dust and sections of tendrils exploded into the air as a myriad patchwork of assassin spells sundered the ground in an arcing radius expanding three feet outward from the original point of impact.
Though unexpected and unnerving, the mis-fired spell had for the moment, cleared the area of tendrils. Those beyond the fringe of the devastated area shrank back.
His skin was on fire. The tingling had grown to such an extent that it was painful. James glanced into the pit, saw Miko crouched on an anchor line third row from the top. Watched him leap laterally to an anchor line on the same level. Caught his breath when the anchor line shifted at the wall; breathed a sigh of relief when it held Miko’s weight.
Miko glanced upward, saw his friend watching, and gave a thumb’s up. He then drew his sword and leapt to the anchor line just above his head. Tendrils had grown to nearly completely cover it. As soon as Miko’s left arm hooked it, tendrils reacted.
Several passes of his blade sent green tendrils plummeting to the depths below. Once the anchor line was cleared, he climbed onto it and stood less than eight feet from the lip beneath where James stood.
The anchor line directly beneath James was loose; he could see where, though it looked sturdy, it had in fact detached from the wall. He wasn’t sure if Miko was able to realize that from his vantage point below. He tried to wave Miko off, but his friend leapt for it.
Throwing himself to the ground, James reached into the pit and grasped the anchor line with both hands a split-second before Miko’s weight came full upon it. Sure enough, the impact knocked the anchor line from the wall. James’ shoulders protested vigorously as he strained to keep Miko from falling.
Miko swung a leg over and proceeded to scramble up onto the anchor line.
“Hurry!” James yelled through the mask.
Moving forward along the line, Miko reached James just as the structure above them gave out with a groan…then cracked. Green ichor oozed forth. Another violent spasm split the structure completely asunder.
Miko scrambled over James and out of the pit just as a green deluge engulfed them. Morcyth’s glow flared to painful brilliance.
An army of tendrils ranging from six inches to twice the length of a man infested the green ichor. James let go the anchor line as he felt them constrict along his entire body. Pulling, tearing, they split the fabric of the suit apart as they sought the flesh beneath allowing green ichor to breach its protective barrier. He screamed as searing pain erupted wherever the green ichor touched his skin. It filled his suit, tendrils followed twining around his limbs, his torso. Thrashing, he pulled off his helmet; tore at tendrils cinching tightly around his neck.
Then Miko was there; the Star in hand. Its glow infused him and the pain diminished. Tendrils withered; Miko pulled them from him until none were left. He opened his eyes, saw Miko radiating Morcyth’s glow from head to toe, and found his voice.
“What took you so long?”
“Sorry.” Miko grinned and nodded. “Need a nap? Or should we get out of here?” The only part of his radiation suit still upon him was the leggings.
“The radiation…,” James began.
“Do not worry,” Miko replied and held forth the Star, “Morcyth is taking care of it.”
James discovered that he, too, glowed brightly. In fact, the glow extended outward roughly two feet. Glancing to the right, he saw tendrils approach the fringe of the glow, wither, and shrink back. All vestiges of pain had vanished leaving a feeling of contentment and relaxation. He held out a hand.
“Help me up?”
As Miko took his hand and brought him to his feet, the structure rising out of the pit gave out with a groan and imploded, then collapsed into the pit.
“Is it dead?”
“Unsure,” Miko replied. “Injured severely at the very least.” When James turned back to him, he added, “It was loath to relinquish the Star. I convinced it.”
“Bet it feels good to hold that.”
“Words could never adequately express how it makes me feel.”
Looking around at the ruptured, vine-covered conveyance tubes, James asked, “Will it be able to see us out of the Waste?”
“I believe so. I sense a great reservoir of magic resides within the Star.”
“Coming from a god, it’s probably inexhaustible.”
Miko considered that a moment, then nodded. “I believe you are correct.”
“So you could take over the world.”
“No,” Miko replied. “World domination holds no interest for him and I do not believe that the magic would respond should I try to use it for such a purpose.”
James slapped him on the back. “I’m glad.” Then he glanced to the sky. There was no shimmering even though magic was being utilized.
Miko looked up too. “Like you said, priest magic does not appear to bring about the shimmering field.”
“No, though I am glad for it.”
“Me too. Now, let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Hands on hips, Father Vickor stood outside the old farmhouse and stared into the Waste.
“We can’t wait any longer.”
He glanced to Father Keller who nodded.
“Settle Eddra into her carriage and let’s go.”
With Kip’s help, Father Keller carried the old woman from the farmhouse and placed her gently upon a pallet comprised of blankets and spare clothing within the carriage. Kip produced another blanket and covered her.
Shorty came up to them. “What about Scar and Potbelly?”
“They knew we would wait two days,” Father Vickor replied.
“And they know where we are headed,” Kip added.
Shorty glanced to the horizon in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the pair’s return. “Can’t we wait one more day?”
Father Vickor shook his head. “We must be in Zixtyn before the Reverend Father’s arrival.”
Jiron laid a hand on the knifer’s shoulder. “I’m sure they’ll be fine. Probably be there ahead of us.”
Shorty nodded though he didn’t share Jiron’s confidence.
Jiron grabbed the saddle and swung up. Jira sat on her horse next to him “Let’s go.”
Three hours later and some distance to the southeast, four horses emerged from the Waste. In the distance lay the road running between Cyzt and Hyrryth. Potbelly brought them to a halt as he surveyed the travelers upon the road.
“I don’t see them.”
He glanced to Scar. Unconscious since the ill-fated attempt to acquire an exotic creature for display in the Pits, ropes lashed him to the saddle and maintained him in a forward slump against several bags stacked in front of him. Shortly after being struck by the poisoned barbs, Scar had lapsed into unconsciousness.
His condition had neither worsened nor improved. Potbelly worried for his friend but knew that the affliction assailing him could be cured. Jira had been struck by the same poisoned darts and with Brother Willim’s aid, she had been okay. He needed to get his friend to Morcyth’s priests as quickly as possible.
The reins of Scar’s horse were secured behind Potbelly’s saddle; the two packhorses were similarly secured in tandem behind Scar.
“North…” he said gazed along the road to the horizon, then glanced the other way. “Or south…” Turning back to Scar, he asked, “What do you think?” Scar was unresponsive. “About what I thought, too.”
He knew they would head south, but the question was whether they had already passed this way, or had yet to. The last thing he wanted to do was travel along the main road. Even though there were few travelers upon it, Scar’s condition would assuredly arouse suspicion. After several moments of weighing his options, he knew he had to take the risk.
Two wagons with five mounted riders made their way from the south. Angling so as to intercept them, he nudged his horse into motion.
A lone rider heading south took notice of his approach, as did a trio pulling a cart on their way north. None gave him more than a passing glance. Once on the road, his fellow travelers made it a point of ignoring him; only the lone rider actually met his gaze.
When the lead wagon drew close, Potbelly came to a halt and raised his hand in greeting.
“A good day to you.”
Two riders came abreast of the wagon as the teamster brought it to a halt, the other three took up position along the second wagon. One of the riders, a young man in his late twenties with a bearing of authority continued forward. He raised his hand in similar salutation.
“And to you, sir.” The man’s gaze turned and rested upon Scar a moment before returning to Potbelly. “Trouble?”
Potbelly nodded. “We ran into a creature from the Waste. My friend was affected.”
“Yes,” the young man replied. “I have heard of similar incidents. Barbs, I believe.”
“Two days ago.”
“A priest can remedy that.”
“So I understand. But that is not why I stopped you. We were separated from our friends and hoped you might have passed them recently. There are several men, a young girl and an old woman in a carriage.”
The man thought a moment, then shook his head. “I’m sorry. I haven’t seen any group fitting that description. Been on the road since before sunup.”
Sighing, Potbelly said, “I thank you. They may still be to the north. If on your travels northward you should encounter them, I would appreciate it if you could let them know that the two they are missing are on the road ahead of them.”
“I will do that.”
“How far to the next inn?”
“If you set a good pace, you should be there by sunset.”
“I thank you. Good travels.”
“Good travels to you as well.”
Nudging his horse into motion, Potbelly soon left the wagons and riders behind.
The power of Morcyth glowed brightly as they made their way southward through the desert. It had been hours since leaving the ruins of Ith-Zirul behind. Ruptured conveyance tubes made a vein-like patchwork throughout the land.
“It really was quite extensive.”
“Yes,” Miko replied. “It sickens me to believe the pure power of Morcyth had been utilized in such a way.”
James glanced to his arms every now and then, the glow that radiated outward from them fascinated him. There they were, walking through a radioactive wasteland without protective gear, and they were fine. With the Star, Miko was able to continuously heal the damage done by the radiation.
He raised his glowing arm. “How long can you keep this up? We have a couple days until we leave the Waste.”
“Not to worry,” he replied. “Maintaining the healing power is quite easy. However….”
“Yes?”
“I do not think I can maintain it while asleep,” Miko explained. “We need to find a safe haven.”
James scanned a horizon devoid of tell-tale signs indicating a patch of vines. “Great.” Far ahead to the south, the first stalker silhouette appeared. He paused and picked up a couple stones then glanced to the sky. “This could get interesting.”
Nodding, Miko replied, “Possibly.”
Another joined the first, then several more. Off to their right, others began to appear. A glance to the left revealed still more coming into view. Multiplying rapidly, the horizon quickly filled with the creatures.
“They are coming back.”
“Yeah,” James agreed.
“Think it was something I did?”
James glanced to his friend and said, “I would say that was a safe bet.”
Dust rose behind the creatures and it quickly became apparent that they were in a full run straight for them.
“Can you handle them?”
“If the shimmering in the sky doesn’t materialize,” James replied, “it will be easy.”
“Then let us pray that it does not.”
James didn’t hold much faith in that strategy. Instead, he busied himself with finding as many stones as he could before the creatures closed the distance. By the time the ground trembled with their approach, he had an armful.
Taking one in his hand, he turned to Miko. “Keep an eye on the sky.”
“Will do.”
Summoning magic, he threw.
The stone leapt from his hand and slammed into the lead creature. As it stumbled and fell another stone was already on the way.
One after another in rapid fire the stones flew across the desert.
A score of the creatures laid dead and no tingling upon the skin.
“Any sign?”
Miko shook his head. “No. The sky is clear.”
His collection of rocks dwindled rapidly and still the creatures came on. Having concentrated his fire to the south, he had managed to open a hole in their line, but those to the east and west were coming fast.
/> Crumph!
Dirt and rock exploded upward beneath those to the east.
Crumph!
Those to the west flew in the air as the ground erupted.
His skin tingled painfully as the sky above shimmered briefly then regained normality.
“James…”
“Yeah,” he replied. “I know.”
Four stalkers emerged from the cloud of dust left behind by the explosion to the east. He had ten stones left. Taking one, he braced for the tingling, then threw.
The sky remained calm.
He threw another.
Still the sky failed to react and no tingling afflicted him.
Two more stones downed the last of the creatures to the east.
Motion from the west drew his attention. A dozen stalkers still headed their way.
He contemplated his last six stones. The ground around them held little more than dirt and sand.
“Damn,” he cursed.
Bracing, he concentrated on the ground before the advancing creatures, then let loose the magic. The sky shimmered…
Crumph!...k-Pow!
No sooner had the spell been cast than he felt it being corrupted. Tingling pain wracked his body to the bone as the ground beneath the stalkers erupted. Then a second explosion nearly four times as powerful followed on the heels of the first and tossed massive chunks of earth into the air.
Miko cast a protective shield a heartbeat before the concussion wave rolled over them. He wrapped his arm around his friend to keep him from collapsing. Dirt rained down upon them, the larger pieces broke apart as they hit the shield, some disintegrated completely. When the rain of earth subsided, dirt lay piled to waist height around the base of the shield.
Beyond the shield nothing could be seen; dust choked the air. Miko helped James to the ground.
“Are you okay?”
“It’s getting worse,” he sighed. “Anything the Star can do to help?”
“I do not think so.”
Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two Page 44
