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

by Pratt, Brian S.

  Again the shield was attacked. Again a fireball flared around him momentarily. The heat within the protective shield was rising with each subsequent attack but he dared not drop it. Seeking some weakness that the mage may possess, he cast a series of varied attacks.

  First he caused the ground to shake and to open beneath the mage’s feet. But before more than a crack could develop, the widening fissure slammed shut. Then he sent fire, ice, spears of magical energy, all were countered and rendered impotent.

  Further attacks on his part were forestalled when the yellow object clutched in the mage’s hand appeared to pulsate. James’ eyes were drawn to it as a wave of magic enveloped his shield. But instead of attacking, the magic flowed over and around the shield, settling upon it like a wet blanket.

  Immediately, James’ magic began to wane. His mind’s eye saw the mage’s magic begin to trace the incoming threads of power from the island’s grid. Then one by one, surges traveled down the threads and began shattering his network of crystals. As each node in the latticework failed, his reservoir of power diminished.

  Panic began to settle in. He didn’t have much time. Summoning everything available to him, he attacked the magical field encompassing his shield and threw it off. The effort left him weakened and depleted, but for the moment he was free.

  “James!” shouted Jiron.

  Turning toward his friend, he knew it was over. Then, his eyes settled on the platform. When Jiron arrived the day before, he had just finished making the final adjustments to the spells of the teleporter. He believed it would work now. If so, there was a way to momentarily escape and possibly regroup. If not, well, he remembered the carcass of the last test subject sent through the teleporter. A glance to the crystals of the teleporter showed they glowed red and were ready to go.

  “Get to the platform!” James shouted as he bolted for the teleporter. Calling the last of the island’s magic to him, he tried to fend off another attack by the mage as he closed the distance. Struck by a blow that felt like a giant’s hammer, he felt his magical wards shatter as he was thrown forward through the air and head first into the side of the teleporter platform.

  “Uncle!” cried Jira as she saw him crack his head against the platform. Jiron came to the edge and hauled James’ semi-conscious body from the ground and onto the teleporter.

  The mage was advancing toward them, the object in his hand glowing an ominous yellow.

  Laying his friend upon his back, Jiron looked into eyes lacking any focus. Slapping him across the face, Jiron shouted, “Wake up!”

  “Father…” began Jira as she nestled protectively behind him.

  “Not now!” he shouted to her. James’ eyes blinked and they appeared to gain focus. Seeing his friend coming around, Jiron asked, “How does this thing work?” When James’ eyes started to close, he slapped him again.

  “Father, he’s coming.” This was the first time he had ever heard fear in his daughter’s voice concerning anything other than fear of punishment for doing wrong. He could feel her small body tremble as it pressed against his back.

  James’ eyes snapped open. His mind was muddled. “How does it work?” he heard Jiron ask. For a moment he didn’t understand what was being asked. Then, it came back to him. The mage, the platform…escape! Failing to activate the latent magic within the platform’s crystals, he tried to reach the remaining crystal in his belt.

  Jiron saw what he was doing. “The Crystal? You need the crystal?” When James nodded, Jiron removed the crystal from the belt and placed it within his hand. His daughter’s scream brought his attention back to the enemy mage, and he knew fear. A wall of fire rolled toward them consuming everything in its path.

  Grabbing hold of his daughter, he shielded her as best he could as the wave of fire hit the platform.

  As soon as the crystal rested within his palm, James tried connecting with its magic. The blow to his head had addled his mind to such an extent that he couldn’t sufficiently concentrate to summon the magic around him. But, with the powered crystal clutched in his hand, the way was made easier.

  Focusing on the crystal and the magic therein, he vanquished all thoughts of their impending doom and concentrated solely on the task at hand. Using the magic of the crystal, he was able to locate the spells embedded within the platform’s crystals. Then just as the wave of fire struck, activated the spells.

  Chapter Six

  ________________________

  Six crystals flared to life. In less time than it took a hummingbird’s wings to flap, a field of energy enveloped those upon the platform. Not having been given a destination, the crystals sought out their creator for direction and found a mind both muddled and confused. They latched onto the first coherent thought encountered.

  Jiron clutched his daughter tightly to him as the wall of fire rolled over them. Closing his eyes, he pressed his head to hers, attempting to shield her from the worst of it. A moment of searing pain, then a downpouring of water, screams of women and children, and a sound like some demon emerging from the bowels of hell.

  Surprised at still being alive, albeit a little scorched, Jiron opened his eyes. Jira looked up at him with fear still very much etched into her features. Water poured from the sky, soothing the burns on the back of his neck and arms. Flames raging along one wall were subsiding rapidly under the onslaught of water.

  Walls?

  A quick glance at their surroundings showed they were no longer upon the platform. Nor were they any place even remotely familiar. White lights glared from overhead; strange, box looking seats in rows along the wall, and of course the ear shattering blaring sound that seemed to come from every direction.

  “Where are we father?” asked Jira.

  “I…I don’t know,” he replied. This place was as alien to him as any place had ever been. “Stay close.”

  James lay passed out on the floor before him. As he moved an errant strand of his friend’s hair back to where it belonged, someone laid a hand on his shoulder. Glancing back, he saw a man of middling years kneeling down next to him. In the man’s hand was held a strange object. Not very long but obviously magical in nature, for one end emitted light.

  When he heard the stranger say something in an unintelligible language, and then attempt to push him aside to get to James, he reacted. Shoving the man away, he came to his feet and stood over the unconscious body of his friend. Drawing his knife, he shouted, “Get back!”

  Waving the blade menacingly toward the man, he was relieved when the stranger fled through a doorway located not far away. He could hear the man race away, shouting in his strange tongue.

  “We have to go,” he said to his daughter. Grabbing James, he slung his friend over his shoulder and was about to leave when he caught sight of James’ crystal lying on the floor. “Grab the crystal,” he said to Jira who immediately bent over to pick it up. She put it in her pocket.

  They were now alone in the room. Water still poured from the ceiling and the horrible sound continued its attack upon them unabatedly. With James over his shoulder and a knife ready in his free hand, Jiron led his daughter through the door.

  On the other side they found a hallway extending to the right and left. Other doors, some closed, some open sat as quiet sentinels in both directions. A white light was flashing from a red box attached to a wall farther down to the right. Spying sunlight coming through a window at the end of the hallway to the left, he ran toward it. When he reached the window and looked out, he froze in disbelief. They were high off the ground, higher than any castle spire.

  Other incredibly tall buildings sat in a stately row across from where he stood. One rose to even greater heights than where he now stood.

  “Father, where are we?” Nose pressed to the window, Jira looked down at a world very different from the one in which she was born.

  “I…,” about to answer, he stopped when the terrible noise suddenly stopped. Casting a glance back down the hallway, he heard a faint…Ding!

&nbs
p; “Fa…,” she began before being stopped by his upraised hand.

  A moment later, farther down the hallway, forms begin to appear. Clothed in bulky armor, they wore strange helmets and carried battleaxes. These warriors turned and began moving quickly their way. Fearing attack, Jiron moved to a nearby door only to find it locked. He smashed the door open with a well placed kick then ushered Jira in first before following quickly after.

  Beyond the door lay a dimly lit, empty room. Shutting the door behind him, he moved to the far corner where he laid James down in the shadows against the wall. What light there was available to them shone through a window looking out onto the hallway.

  “Stay with him,” he told his daughter. “If he wakes, try to keep him quiet.”

  Jira nodded silently. The look of uncertainty in her eyes caused him to give her a reassuring smile. “We’ll be fine.”

  “What’s going to happen to mother?”

  So concerned with what was going on with them, he hadn’t even thought about what Aleya and the others left behind at the manor may be going through. Would the mage kill them now that James was out of the way? Or would he take them as slaves? Fear for his wife welled within his heart. But then he pushed it aside. Such thoughts would only distract him from the immediate danger he and his daughter now faced. Whatever the fate of Aleya may be, he could not affect its outcome so would not waste energy worrying that would be better spent on the situation at hand.

  “She’ll be okay,” he assured her. Laying his hand upon her shoulder he added, “Remember what your uncle said? There is no safer place than the manor.”

  Jira nodded.

  “So don’t fret,” he said. “Your uncle will find a way for us to get back to them, rest assured.” Glancing toward his still unconscious friend, he prayed that his words would prove true.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  The sound of three solid strikes followed by shouting drew his attention back to the hallway running outside the room.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  More pounding followed immediately by more shouting.

  Crossing the dimly lit room to the window opening out onto the hallway, he peered down toward the sound of the shouting. The armored, battleaxe-wielding men were progressing from door to door. First they would check to see if the door was open. If it proved to be locked, one would pound on the door and shout while another looked in through the window. He watched as they moved from door to door, progressing ever closer to where he, Jira and James hid.

  When they came to the door just down from theirs, he realized that the door to their room was ajar. Having broken the inside of the doorjamb in his rush to enter, the door would no longer stay shut on its own.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  As the men pounded on the next door over, Jiron rushed to their door and quickly closed it. Setting his boot against the bottom, he placed his weight against the door to keep it closed.

  “Stay still,” he whispered to his daughter. He believed that, if his plan worked, she and James might remain unnoticed in the shadows if they remained motionless.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Jiron put his full weight against the door as the armored men knocked upon it. Again, a man shouted while another appeared in the window and gazed in. Jiron held his breath, hardly daring to exhale for fear it would be heard by those out in the hallway.

  From his vantage point he couldn’t see the one standing before the window, but he could see the shadow the man cast upon the floor. Once the shadow departed and the men moved back down the hallway, he waited a full minute before easing off the door.

  It cracked open slightly when his weight came off of it. Reapplying pressure to the door, he sunk one of his knives into the doorjamb to prevent it from opening. When he eased off again, the door remained closed.

  Moving to the window, he looked down the hallway for the armored men. He could hear them speaking to one another and moving things about, but the angle of his view prohibited him from seeing what they were doing.

  “Father,” Jira said.

  Turning toward his daughter, he saw that she was pointing toward the top of James’ head. “He has a bump.”

  Crossing the room, Jiron knelt down and gently felt James’ head. The bump was high on the forehead right at the hairline. It was the size of a goose egg. “Head bumps like this often look worse than they really are,” he explained.

  Shaking his friend gently by the shoulder, he said, “James.” A second shake seemed to rouse him. “Wake up.”

  “Hmmm?” he mumbled.

  “You have to wake up,” Jiron insisted.

  Eyes opening only halfway, James turned his gaze upon the man kneeling before him. “Jiron?” he asked confusedly.

  “That’s right,” he replied. “Jira’s here too.”

  Attempting to rise, he suddenly brought his hand up to his forehead. “Oh man,” he moaned as he was suddenly assailed by a fierce headache. Then memory returned, and despite the pain, abruptly sat up.

  A quick glance around the room told him they were no longer on the island. “Where are we?” he asked.

  “We don’t know, uncle,” replied Jira.

  “She’s correct,” affirmed Jiron. “I have never seen such a place.”

  There was an edge to Jiron’s voice that he rarely heard. He glanced to his friend and could see worry on his face. “Any sign of the mage?”

  Jiron shook his head. “Not since we arrived.”

  “That’s good.” Putting his hand to his aching forehead, he found the lump. “What happened?”

  “You dove head first into the side of your platform,” Jiron explained. “After that there was flame, and then we were here, wherever here is.”

  James nodded and immediately regretted doing so. Once the pain subsided somewhat, he glanced once more at their surroundings. It was oddly familiar. A look to the ceiling revealed eight round objects recessed within holes spaced at even intervals from one side to the other.

  Had there been light Jiron would have seen the color drain from his face as he began to understand. Almost afraid to look, he turned his gaze toward the door and fearfully began searching the walls. When he saw the four small levers situated in a closely aligned quad, he knew the truth. He was home.

  “No!” he exclaimed.

  “Shhh!” urged Jiron. Gesturing to the hallway he said, “We are not alone. Soldiers are out there and I don’t think they are friendly.”

  “Soldiers?”

  Jiron nodded. “They carry battleaxes.”

  “Show me,” he said.

  Getting up with a little help from Jira and Jiron, he accompanied Jiron to the window where Jiron tried to show him the soldiers. But like Jiron before him, was unable to see that far.

  “You better tell me everything that happened after I bumped my head.”

  As best he could, Jiron related the events following James’ injury. First, the wall of fire, then the waking in a world of rain with no clouds and the horrible screeching, finally culminating with his flight into the room and the men who came knocking. Jira added her observations as well.

  James sat quietly when he finished, thinking about what he had just heard. There was no question he was back on Earth. Aside from the light switches on the wall, there was the Exit sign and snatches of conversation overheard from the axe-wielding, armored men whom he preferred to call fire fighters.

  From the description of the room, the smoke, and the fact that the sprinkler system in the building had gone off suggested their appearance had in some way precipitated the fire. How and why he wasn’t sure.

  The fire department had responded, searched the floor for others needing help, and now were most likely at the place where he and the other two had appeared, trying to figure out what happened.

  “Uncle James,” said Jira.

  Glancing down to her he asked, “Yes?”

  “Father said you could get us home to mother.”

  The enormity of her statement hit him like a
ton of bricks. Home! Meliana and Kenny! A vision of the mage leveling the manor house sprang to mind and he feared for his family. But how were they to get home? Earth had no magic! Holding out his hand, he tried summoning his orb. Even with his head still slightly muddled, he should have been able to perform so rudimentary a spell as that. Especially since it was one he regularly practiced almost on a daily basis. But the magic would not come.

  There were no tell-tale signs of the mental barriers that a head injury would produce. No sense of magic being present but just beyond reach. There was absolutely nothing!

  His hand flew to his belt for his last remaining crystal. Jira saw the movement and retrieved the crystal from her pocket. “Is this what you were looking for uncle?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he replied, relieved.

  Taking the crystal, he searched for the red glow that all powered crystals bore. “No,” he moaned upon finding no glow within the crystal.

  “James?” questioned Jiron.

  “I…I don’t think we can go home.”

  “But there has to be a way,” he argued. “You were brought from here to our world. We came from our world to here. There has to be magic of some kind within your world!”

  Holding out his hand again, James tried and failed to produce his orb. “I have no power here,” he said frantically. “Remember, it was Igor who brought me to your world in the first place. Perhaps the rules regarding magic are different for gods than they are for mortals.” Again he sought to create an orb, and again he failed. Over and over he tried. Switching to different spells, he ran through the whole gamut of his repertoire with no success. Finally collapsing against the wall, he began to be wracked with sobs.

  Jiron looked to his daughter and could see his own worry and fear mirrored in her eyes. He could no longer shield her from the truth. They would never see her mother again. Taking his daughter into his arms, he couldn’t help but match her tear for tear at their loss.