Light in the Barren Lands: Travail of The Dark Mage Book One

by Pratt, Brian S.

  Kenny was poorly hidden behind a chair and Jira was zeroing in on him. An invisible bow held in her hand, she crept ever closer to her prey. Just as she was about to shoot and “kill” the deer, Kenny’s mother appeared and announced their fathers were back and that they should wash up.

  Thinking the game was over, Kenny emerged from cover. Jira aimed her “bow” and shouted, “I got you!” Kenny squealed and ran for it with Jira hot on his trail.

  “No running in the house!” Meliana admonished as the two children raced past, paying her no heed whatsoever.

  Kenny knocked over a chair as he veered around the table. Glancing back at Jira, he saw her gaining, squealed in glee, and slammed into his father’s leg.

  Jira came up short when she saw the look on her father’s face. It wasn’t one of happiness.

  “Daddy, daddy!” exclaimed Kenny, with no thought of his recent impact with his father. “Jira killed me. Twice!”

  “That’s nice,” said James. Seeing the fun his son was having, he couldn’t bear to scold him for running in the house. He glanced to his wife and grinned.

  “Jira’s a bad influence on him,” Aleya said.

  “Not at all. He hasn’t been this happy in quite a while.”

  Lorri entered with a platter of baked fish and set it on the table. “Dinner will be ready in a moment, sir.”

  “Thank you, Lorri. I shall wash and be right back.” Then to his wife he added, “See if you can get these two hellions to settle down.”

  She gave both Kenny and Jira a stern gaze. “I’ll try.”

  Kenny for his part looked repentant under his mother’s glare, while Jira still held mischief in her eyes. But when James and Jiron returned from washing, the two children were sitting quietly at opposite ends of the table.

  The roast fish was delectable, as was everything Lorri fixed. James couldn’t have found a better pair than Lorri and Sty. He would be forever in Illan’s debt for sending them.

  Conversation during dinner caught them up on most of the pertinent details of recent events. Near the end of the meal, Jira asked if they would be having ice cream.

  “Not until tomorrow,” explained James. Ice cream had been one of his first creations from back home. Nowhere in all his travels had he encountered anything that even remotely resembled ice cream. So, not long after coming to the island he devised a magically powered ice cream machine. Where instead of using electricity or a crank, it used magic. It had taken quite a few attempts before he got it right. Delia even provided a bean reminiscent of the vanilla bean for flavoring. Now if only this world had a cocoa bean; but as yet he hadn’t heard of one.

  In a pout that was entirely out of character for her, Jira moaned, “But I was hoping to have some.”

  “You will,” her mother assured her. “Tomorrow.” And the way she said tomorrow let her daughter know she did not want to hear anymore about it.

  Though she didn’t get ice cream, she did get several of Lorri’s tarts fresh out of the oven. Full of berries, they practically burst with flavor when you bit into them.

  James always thought of Miko when tarts were served. He still found it hard to imagine the kid he found on the streets of Bearn as the High Priest of Morcyth. His thoughts must have been evident on his face for Jiron said, “Miko sends his best.”

  “I was hoping he could make it,” said James a bit sad. Aside from Jiron, it was Miko he missed the most.

  “Is he fat yet?” asked Meliana with a grin. She too knew of his predisposition for tarts.

  “Surprisingly, no,” he replied. “He keeps fit by training his priests in swordsmanship.”

  “Really?” James asked in surprise. “I hadn’t heard that.”

  “It’s the truth,” affirmed Aleya. “Though few know of it.”

  “Miko…,” he said wistfully as he visualized him facing off against one of his priests. Then shook his head and chuckled.

  “He asked me to come once a week and go against his trainees,” Jiron said.

  “And?”

  “And they are nowhere near ready to fight off a serious threat. Some have absolutely no talent for the sword, but one or two of his younger priests might turn out to be competent. Miko says they are only sparring to keep them in shape…but.”

  “But what?” asked James. “Did you hear something?”

  Jiron shook his head. “No, but Miko does seem to be driving them rather hard at it.”

  “Perhaps it’s due to the fact that the last priests of Morcyth were wiped out by Dmon-Li and he doesn’t want it to happen again.”

  “I don’t know why,” said Jiron. “From intelligence reports Illan has received, the Empire is in ruins. The only threat the Empire poses now is to itself. Seven different warlords are carving up what’s left into their own petty kingdoms.”

  “What about the Emperor?”

  “Without the backing of Dmon-Li’s priesthood, the Emperor was deposed,” Jiron explained. “One guess who did it?”

  “Lord Cytok?”

  Jiron nodded. “None other. He’s also become the most powerful of the seven warlords. Much of the Empire’s army backs him.”

  “Father mentioned hearing a rumor to that affect last time he was here,” interjected Meliana.

  “That’s right, he did,” agreed James.

  “I hope your family isn’t caught up in all of this,” said Aleya.

  Meliana shook her head. “Thankfully, no. Warlords Azkimal and Halim both claim Corillian and the surrounding islands for their own.”

  James chuckled. “For awhile it was touch and go, ships being raided by one side or the other. Trade was grinding to a halt. Then someone began spreading the rumor that Kendrick’s daughter married the mage who took down the Empire and would frown upon such activity. After that, things quieted down.”

  “That’s rich,” laughed Jiron. “Who spread the rumor?”

  “My father,” answered Meliana.

  “He asked me if I would come and do something, but you know how I feel about that sort of thing.”

  Jiron nodded. James’ unwillingness to go for the throat had complicated their lives on more than one occasion.

  “I suggested he start spreading the rumor and see what happened,” James said. “Now the islands are tentatively under the control of both warlords, though each fails to recognize the sovereignty of the other. Ships flying merchant flags are now safe. Though once in awhile Kendrick tells of warships from either side going at it.”

  “Hasn’t either side tested the validity of the rumor?” asked Aleya.

  “Not so far,” admitted James. “The locals know that Meliana, Kenny, and I travel there to visit from time to time. Whenever we are on one of Kendrick’s ships, they fly my flag to let anyone know not to mess with us. Word gets around.”

  “And so your fame spreads,” grinned Jiron.

  Rolling his eyes and sighing, James said, “Yes.”

  Aleya turned to Meliana and asked, “When is your father due to arrive?”

  “He was supposed to be here already,” she replied. “But we hope he will arrive tomorrow in time for the party.”

  “Earlier this morning I checked on his progress and found him to be caught in a heavy squall.”

  “Not serious, I hope?” asked Aleya.

  “He’s been in worse,” replied Meliana.

  “I’m sure we’ll hear all about it when he arrives tomorrow,” predicted James.

  “Will grandpa be here for my birthday?” asked Kenny.

  “We hope so, squirt.”

  Clang. Clang. Clang.

  The morning’s quiet was disturbed by the sound of metal striking metal. Roused in the early morning light, James cracked a weary eye open.

  Clang. Clang.

  “That’s good, Jira,” he heard Jiron say. “But make sure you connect closer to the guard. You will then have better leverage to move your opponent’s weapon where you want it.”

  “Yes, father,” she replied.

  Clang.r />
  Glancing to his bedroom window, he saw morning had barely begun, the sun’s rays riding far too low in the sky for him to be awake.

  “How’s this?” asked a small boy’s voice. Clang.

  “Fine, nephew,” Jiron praised.

  James groaned and tried to settle deeper into his pillow, even going so far as to wrap it around his ears in an attempt to muffle the sound coming from outside. Not since leaving The Ranch had he been awakened in the wee hours of the morning by the obtrusive noise of drill practice.

  But then two words surfaced and began floating across his sleep-shrouded mind. Fine, nephew. Every time he drifted close to sleep’s domain, the words returned. Fine, nephew.

  Eyes snapping open, he finally realized what those words meant. Sitting bolt upright in bed, he threw the covers off and crossed to the window. There he saw Jiron with two long knives facing off against Jira and Kenny, Jira with two knives and Kenny holding one.

  Kenny had a big smile on his face as his little knife shot forward. James watched as Jiron allowed it to pass through his defenses and strike his leg.

  “Ow!” cried Jiron. Dancing backward, he made a big show of being injured.

  Kenny squealed in delight.

  “Get him!” cried Jira and both children rushed forward, knives moving in for the kill.

  Against such formidable odds, Jiron stepped up his knife play and began batting aside their strikes. Occasionally, the flat of one of his blades would tap Kenny on the bottom which only made him giggle all the more.

  James couldn’t help but smile. He knew Jiron wouldn’t allow anyone to get hurt, not seriously anyway. The knife Kenny wielded was an identical match to Jira’s, so he knew it would be blunt, as he was sure Jiron’s would be as well. The two knives he wielded were not the pair he acquired from the Renlon’s so long ago during their travels, but rather the pair he used when practicing.

  He well remembered the one time he tried his hand at joining Jiron during his practice. The experience had left him realizing that magic would be the only way in which he would ever be able to defend himself. Even Jiron admitted James had little aptitude for such things.

  “Jira asked if Kenny could join them.”

  Glancing over his shoulder, he found his wife standing in the doorway. “It’s okay,” James assured her. “He’s having fun.”

  Meliana crossed over and came to stand with him before the window. Together, they watched their son and his partner try to “kill” the “intruder”.

  Jiron had a look of absolute contentment as he danced with the two children. Moving along the ground in steady, precise movements, he easily kept the knives of the children at bay.

  “I’m glad they could come,” Meliana said. Laying her head on her husband’s shoulder, she sighed contentedly.

  “So am I,” he replied.

  They watched for another minute before Meliana said, “You should get dressed. Breakfast will be ready soon.”

  “Alright,” he replied, giving her a peck on the cheek.

  As his wife left the room, James watched his son for a moment longer before leaving the window and donning the clothes laid out for him; a simple leather jerkin over a brown woolen shirt with matching trousers. Not his best clothes to be sure, but they were still a cut above what he wore on a day-to-day basis. At least these didn’t have holes in them.

  Once dressed, he slipped on his boots and left the room. Passing by the dining room, he gave Aleya and Lorri a quick “Good morning” before going outside.

  The battle was still raging.

  “Almost time for breakfast,” he told the warriors.

  “Alright,” Jiron said. Then, to his two attackers he said, “Time to stop.” But Jira had other plans. When he dropped his guard, she thrust at his midsection.

  Knowing his daughter as he did, he was ready for her. Stepping up to his full skill, he knocked the blade aside with a wrist-jarring blow. “Enough,” he said, this time with a great deal more seriousness to it.

  Neither Kenny nor Jira were willing to stop the fun. Kenny squealed in delight as he, too, went in for the kill.

  “You asked for it,” Jiron said, then gave James a grin.

  Whack! Whack! Whack!

  Three small knives went flying across the yard.

  Whack! Whack!

  First Kenny, then Jira received a less than gentle swat on the behind. Jira’s of course held a bit more force than had Kenny’s.

  “When I say it’s over,” Jiron said as he stared down the miscreant pair, “it’s over!”

  Tears began welling in Kenny’s eyes and he turned to his father. “Don’t look at me,” his father told him. “Next time you better stop when Uncle Jiron says it’s time to stop.”

  His son nodded his head and mumbled, “Yes, daddy.”

  James gave Jiron a barely noticeable grin as he asked, “So, how is my little warrior?”

  “Fierce,” replied Jiron. “He has the heart of a dragon.” Coming forward, he tousled Kenny’s hair which made the boy grin.

  “It looked like he almost had you a couple times,” smiled James.

  “Almost,” agreed Jiron, in mock seriousness. Then to his daughter, “Jira, you and Kenny gather the knives and clean them before you eat.”

  “Yes, father,” she said. Reaching out, she took Kenny by the hand. “Come on,” she told him as she led him toward the nearest knife.

  Jiron waited until they had moved off a bit before asking James, “I hope you don’t mind, but he really wanted to join us.”

  “It’s fine,” he replied.

  “Jira joins my practices most mornings,” explained Jiron. “She’s growing quite good.”

  “Just like her father,” replied James.

  With a grin, Jiron replied, “That’s what worries her mother.”

  Laughing, the two men returned to the house and washed for breakfast.

  Preparations for Kenny’s birthday party were well underway. Despite the kids’ impatience, the party wasn’t scheduled to begin until the afternoon. Kendrick, Kenny’s grandfather, should arrive by then unless the storm continued unabated.

  After breakfast, James took Jiron to his study, although it wasn’t a study in the classic sense of the word. Instead, it was a room at the heart of the house sealed by magic against unauthorized entry. Some things contained within would not be good for others, especially a four year old boy, to be messing around with. In fact, if you didn’t know the room was there, you probably wouldn’t have been able to find it.

  A picture hung on the wall midway down the hallway, a marker used by James to identify the location of the entrance to his study. Stopping to the right of the picture, James passed his hand across the surface of the wall, and an archway four feet wide and seven tall, opened before them.

  “I promised Meliana I would check her father’s progress,” James explained. Passing through, he waited for Jiron to follow before resealing the entrance. Immediately, four globes sprang to life, bathing the study in a soft, yellow glow. “For Kenny’s sake, I hope he makes it.”

  “Are you going to put off the party until he arrives?” Jiron asked.

  James shook his head. “No, I have already begun the ice cream. Besides, I doubt if Kenny could wait another day.”

  “Neither could Jira,” Jiron added with a grin.

  James always thought of the interior of his study as reminiscent of a mad scientist’s laboratory. Aside from the four globe lights powered by crystals, there was a latticework of crystals that took up a good portion of one wall. A dozen red, glowing crystals sat in a three-circled tier, radiating outward from a group of four crystals that formed the middle. Those four crystals were the heart of his island. Their magic fed everything from the ice cream maker to the heat in his bathwater to the alert lights.

  Everything on his island that held a crystal needed a continual source of power, however minute, streaming toward it in order for it to remain operational. He found it much easier to have his “working” cryst
als pull magic from a central source than to have each crystal responsible for drawing its own power from its surrounding environment. Initially, he had done so, but soon learned that if too many crystal-powered objects were in close proximity to each other, the power they drew began having adverse consequences to their surroundings. So he came up with the latticework. Each “working” crystal would draw its power from the four, which would in turn draw their power from the twelve.

  The twelve “powering” crystals were in turn fed by “gathering” crystals positioned beneath the waters surrounding the island. Each “gathering” crystal would draw magic from the ocean and send it to the “powering” crystals, which would in turn send it to the four at the center of the latticework. Should the power demand be less than what they were sending, then each crystal in the chain would store power until needed.

  Over the years, he went from the single, original “gathering” crystal to the twelve he has now as he continuously added more and more “working” crystals. Now though, he figured to have enough power coming in so as not to require adding any further “gathering” crystals. Of course, that was until he could bring his teleporter online. At that point, he would have to determine how much energy would be required for each activation, and add more “gatherers” accordingly.

  The center of his study contained a large circular table made of the blackest basalt. Four feet diameter and polished to mirror smoothness, he found it perfect for far viewing, and much superior to the small, hand held mirrors and pools of water he had been forced to make do with during his earlier adventures.

  A modest desk with all the accouterments for writing sat against the left wall. Three tiers of shelves upon the wall above the desk contained various items, some being the ineffective results of past, failed experiments. Two were matching large conch shells. During his second year on the island, he had tried his hand at creating a telephone of sorts which could be used from the workshop and home. But despite his best efforts, he never quite made it work right. Their voices came through garbled and very hard to decipher. He always planned on returning to it again, but other, more pressing experiments like his ice cream maker demanded his attention.