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

by Pratt, Brian S.

  “His gun! He had a gun at the motel. Do you remember me explaining what a gun was?”

  “Like a small crossbow? But without the bolt?”

  “Exactly. It’s hard, heavy, and about the size of both your hands put together.” Footsteps approached. “Find it!”

  Jira fled the kitchen seconds before Seth’s father appeared from the hallway. “Who you got working with you? Is it that partner of yours from the motel?” Glancing around the kitchen, he missed James’ reply of “No,” as he sought James’ accomplice. Not seeing anyone, the man, still clutching the carving knife, approached James. “Where is he?”

  James didn’t reply as there was no “he.” It seemed the truth serum didn’t force him to volunteer information that wasn’t specifically asked for. As for his own volition, he kept stubbornly quiet.

  The man grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. Bringing the knife to rest against his jugular, he shouted. “Show yourself! Or I’ll kill him right now!”

  Jira understood somewhat about what a gun was. She had heard her father and uncle discuss them on more than one occasion during their brief time upon her uncle’s world. Deciding the best place to look for the weapon would be in the front room, she fled in that direction from the kitchen.

  Her eyes searched the room as the man entered the kitchen and began speaking to her uncle once again. Though unable to understand the words, their meaning was clear. Her uncle was in trouble. She had to be brave like her mother!

  Not finding the gun, she thought that perhaps the man had left it in the truck. So, unable to use the front door since it was within visual range of the kitchen and thus her egress may be observed, she raced through the house until coming to another way out. A window was left opened in a side room.

  Squirreling her way through, she then raced to the truck and pulled upon the door handle just like she had when getting into the car her uncle had driven. As the door opened, there was a loud squeal from its hinges.

  She pulled hard and the door swung open to its fullest. Then she saw it. Lying on the seat was an object looking very much like the guns her uncle had talked about. Picking it up off the seat, she thought it looked rather boxy, but it did have the trigger mechanism that was on a real crossbow. It was hard and was a little heavy. This had to be it!

  Then the front door of the house slammed open and the man stood framed in the doorway. Their eyes met. “It’s the brat!”

  Jira squealed, dropped to the ground, and rolled beneath the truck.

  Seth’s father ran forward shouting, the carving knife still very much in hand.

  She didn’t stop rolling until she emerged out the other side. Then, coming to her feet, she ran. The man appeared around the back of the truck and took off after her. The Deer was in trouble. The Deer’s only hope was to lose the Hunter in the dark.

  Darting around the back of the house, fear giving speed to her flight, she almost stumbled into a stacked pile of firewood. Dodging the obstacle, she saw a tree’s silhouette in the moonlight and raced for it.

  The man was not nearly as graceful as she. Coming around the corner of the house in pursuit, he slammed right into the woodpile, crashing to the ground amidst wood, bark, and a stream of curses. He quickly regained his feet.

  Nothing moved in the dark. He stood silently, his gaze roving from one side of the yard to the other, ears alert for even the slightest sound. “You can’t hide from me!” he shouted to the dark. “I’ll find you.” Quiet for a moment to see if his words may have flushed out his prey, he then said, “And when I do, you’re dead!”

  From behind the tree, Jira held motionless. She knew that even the smallest sound would give her away, as it had many times before with her father. After catching her when she was certain she had been quiet, he would explain that it was her breathing that gave her away. So along with keeping still, Jira worked at keeping her breathing easy and quiet. Not an easy thing to do under such circumstances.

  Silence filled the yard. Other than the odd crunch of dirt beneath the man’s foot whenever he shifted position, the only other sound Jira could hear was the pounding of her heart. She was certain its beat was so loud that it must assuredly give her away.

  A minute passed, then two. When she finally heard the man’s footsteps moving off, she bravely peered around the side of the tree. She saw the man returning to the front of the house, apparently giving up on finding her. Jira waited until he disappeared completely, then emerged and made her way to the back of the house.

  In the moonlight she saw the rectangular shape of the rear door and crept toward it. Ears alert for any sign of the return of the man, she reached the door. Pausing a moment, she listened. Failing to hear anything, she reached for the door. Gripping the handle, she turned it slowly until it could turn no more. Then she slowly pulled the door open.

  Wham!

  A kick from the inside flew the door open. The sudden opening caught her off-guard and the door slammed into her, knocking her back several feet to land unceremoniously on her rump.

  “Aha!” A light appeared in the man’s hand and she was framed in its brilliance. “Thought you could outsmart old Chuck, did you?”

  Jira quickly got back to her feet and ran.

  Chuck laughed as the light continued following her wherever she went. Dodging around trees, running back to the front, it didn’t matter where she went, the Deer couldn’t escape the light. Finally, upon reaching the front door, she darted inside and slammed it shut behind her. Throwing the bolt, she raced for the kitchen.

  James had been listening to her flight, dreading to hear that fateful scream when Seth’s father finally caught up with her. Impotent rage filled him. Mind too fogged to summon the magic and tied to the chair, all he could do was listen. Relief filled him when he saw her dart in though the open door and slam it shut. Then once she locked it, she ran toward him.

  In her hands was held not a gun, but a strange contraption James had never seen, though he quickly realized what it was. A stun gun. A Taser.

  Bam!

  A blow from the other side of the front door cracked the jamb, but the door held.

  “Quickly!” James urged as she came closer. “Cut through the tie.”

  She laid the Taser in his lap and picked up the knife she had discarded earlier after her previous attempt.

  Wham!

  The front door gave way beneath the blow and flew from its hinges. Framed in the doorway was Seth’s father. Carving knife held like a scene right out of Psycho, he charged forward.

  Jira sawed vigorously at the tie, in her desperation inadvertently leaving shallow furrows along her uncle’s forearm. Seth’s father reached the kitchen just as the tie parted. James immediately grabbed the Taser sitting in his lap, aimed, and fired.

  Two prongs shot forth, embedding themselves into the man’s chest. As the Taser sent electricity coursing into his body, Chuck crashed to the floor. James allowed the Taser to pump juice into the man for several more seconds before releasing the trigger. Immediately, Seth’s dad stopped thrashing.

  “Here,” he said, swapping the Taser for Jira’s knife. “If he moves, pull the trigger.”

  “Yes, uncle.” Keeping her eyes fixed upon the man on the floor, she held her finger upon the trigger. She jumped an inch when the man jerked again, but then realized she had accidentally pressed the trigger and had been the cause of the motion.

  Cutting through the tie on his other hand, James then went to work on the ones securing his legs. Once they were free, he tried to stand but the drug was still in effect and suffered a wave of dizziness that almost caused him to fall. Only by catching himself on a nearby table did he avoid tumbling to the floor. A few deep breaths and the spinning of the room was reduced to little more than mild fluctuations.

  “Are you going to kill him?”

  Turning his gaze to his niece, he shook his head. “No, though I am sorely tempted.” Taking short, non-equilibrium affecting steps, he came to stand before Seth’s father.
Then, very carefully, he knelt down by his head.

  “I won’t kill you. Not because of any sense of right or wrong about such an act, but because of a debt I feel I owe Seth. Yes, I was there in the moments prior to his death. My cowardice kept me from offering any sort of aid to your son. Whether or not such aid as I could have given would have made any difference, I guess we’ll never know. But, I did not kill him. I was not the one that enticed him to the forest with the promise of a job. That was another.”

  Seth’s father’s eyes flicked to his as he lay there on the kitchen floor.

  “But this I promise. If I should ever see you again, that will be the last day of your life. Understand?” Gazing at the way the skin around his eyes tightened, James added, “Yes, I think you do.”

  Returning to his feet, he held out his hand for the Taser. “We’ll take this with us. It might come in handy.” Then after sending one last jolt of power to the man on the floor, he pulled the barbs from Chuck’s chest and gathered the wires. “I’ll figure out how to put this back together later,” he mumbled to himself.

  Then he held out a hand for Jira to come help him maintain his balance as they made their way through the house and out to the truck. The keys were still in the ignition. “Help me in.”

  Jira came and gave her uncle a boost into the cab before running around and climbing in on the other side.

  As James started the truck, Jira asked, “I did good didn’t I, uncle?”

  James nodded. “Yes, Jira. You did very good. Your father will be pleased.” She was smiling as her uncle put the truck into gear and began driving away. She had accomplished what her father had set her to do. She had rescued her uncle. Now, together with her uncle, they would rescue her father!

  Chapter Twenty

  ________________________

  “What do you mean he…?”

  Reining in his anger, Agent Randle took note of the stares his outburst had created among his colleagues. Keeping his cell phone close, he sat down at his desk and spoke in a whisper. “What do you mean he escaped?”

  “A, ummm, dozen of his friends followed us here and overpowered me,” Agent Randle’s brother explained. “There was nothing I could do.”

  Holding the phone before him, his anger almost got the better of him before he got it back under control. Returning it to his ear, he hunkered down and whispered, “Sounds like you’ve been drinking again.”

  “I haven’t touched a drop!”

  Liar! “Do you have any idea how many favors I had to cash in to get assigned to this Task Force? The risks I took to clear a safe house so you could use it to learn Seth’s whereabouts? If my part in this comes to light, it’s my ass!”

  “Look. You just find out where he is and leave it to me.”

  “I don’t think so.” In his mind he added drunken sot. “Go back to your…”

  “Seth’s dead.”

  “What?”

  “That’s what I got out of him before his, uh, friends showed up.”

  “Did he admit to it?”

  “No. Said some guy called Igor was behind it.”

  “Igor? Sounds German.”

  “Maybe. That was all I learned before he was rescued.”

  Agent Randle thought for a moment. “If this guy is on the loose, he may come looking for his partner.”

  “That’s what I was figuring too. Maybe if I could…”

  “You’ll do nothing! Go back to the hotel and wait for me.”

  “This is my son’s killer we’re talking about.”

  “Yes it is! And you would think you would lay off the liquor until this was over.”

  “I tell you, I was not drinking!”

  Closing his eyes and taking a calming breath, Agent Randle said very calmly, “Go back to the room and wait.” Then closing his phone, he hung up on his brother.

  “Randle!”

  “Yes sir?” Turning, he saw Task Force leader Barnes waving him over. A civilian attached to Homeland Security, he had been put in charge of apprehending the Haveston bombing terrorists.

  “Come with me.”

  Getting up from his desk, Agent Randle joined Mr. Barnes as he made his way back toward the interrogation room wherein the recently apprehended terrorist was being held. “It seems the situation has worsened.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Stopping at a door just before the one leading into the interrogation room, Mr. Barnes opened it and walked inside. One wall was the rear side of a one-way mirror. Through the mirror, Agent Randle saw the terrorist sitting with arms and legs chained to a metal chair, a leather strap securing his middle.

  They had quite the time upon arriving with the prisoner. Even handcuffed, it took four men to get him into that chair and secured with the restraints. Agent Goode was inside the room attempting to interrogate him.

  “He hasn’t said a word anyone understands,” explained Mr. Barnes. “The Las Vegas FBI office contains agents who speak half a dozen languages, but none can understand what he says. We’ve contacted the local University and they’re sending over a linguistics professor. Supposedly the professor speaks a dozen languages and can recognize most others.”

  “Is that what the problem is?” asked Agent Randle. “That he can’t be understood?”

  Mr. Barnes shook his head. “No.” Turning a bit, he pointed to a pile of items stacked on a table against the far wall. “That is what concerns me.”

  Sitting on the table were two radiation suits, a Geiger counter, two long, wicked looking knives, and other less worrisome objects.

  “And this.” Mr. Barnes held up a map of Las Vegas. “We found this inside the duffle bag.” Marks were made around various hotels up and down the Strip.

  “Are they going to detonate a dirty bomb?”

  “Possibly. Or maybe even a nuke. We’ve contacted the local authorities as to the possibility and they are standing by should evacuation be deemed necessary.”

  Turning his gaze to the prisoner, Agent Randle watched him for a moment. “Sure seems relaxed, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes. For someone in his situation, a bit too relaxed.” Mr. Barnes turned to Agent Randle. “I want you to go through these items and see if you can glean any information from them. If Las Vegas is about to be nuked, we need to know where and when.”

  “I take it those sites marked on the map have been searched?’

  “With a fine toothed comb,” affirmed Mr. Barnes. “Local agents were sent with detection equipment and came up with nothing.”

  “So whatever they plan has yet to be put into motion.”

  “That’s what we hope. If we can find the other terrorist in time, maybe we can prevent a catastrophe.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  The bright lights of the interrogation room bothered Jiron. Such steady, unnatural lighting didn’t sit well with him. Before him sat a table of metal, as was the chair to which he was chained. Barely left sufficient play for his hand to reach his nose should it be in need of scratching, he waited.

  James would come. He was certain that had James and his daughter been caught, his captors would have been less interested in him and concentrate more on James. After all, James could speak the language.

  Jiron did worry about his daughter, and in her ability to free James. But had he not sent her after her uncle, she would even now be sitting beside him in captivity, awaiting an uncertain future.

  Currently, a man dressed in black clothes sat across the table from him. When Jiron had first been brought into this room, his greatest worry was that they would begin to torture him. But they hadn’t. He figured that such had been put off until a way could be found to communicate. Inwardly, Jiron couldn’t help but laugh. If such were the case, he would never be tortured, for who on this world would there be that could communicate with him?

  No, he would wait patiently. Endure what must be endured until James arrived. For he knew that should Jira be successful, James would come. And if she failed? He wouldn’t allow hi
mself to dwell upon that possibility. Jira would succeed, and James would come!

  The light creeping over the hills to the east fell upon a lone pickup truck parked out in the middle of the desert. Far to the south, cars could be seen moving along Interstate 15. A rabbit, awakened by the sun’s first rays, hopped merrily along, pausing a moment to wonder at the presence of this man-made object parked only a few feet from its burrow. Curiosity won out and it moved in for a closer look only to bump into something it didn’t see at first. The rabbit had no idea what it was. Now that it knew it was there, it gazed in wonder at a shimmering, translucent dome in place over the truck. Barely visible, it began two feet above the truck’s cab and ended at the ground, completely encompassing the truck and its occupants. After giving the dome only another moment of cursory inspection, it hopped along in search of food.

  Asleep against the driver’s side door, James awoke when the sun’s rays entered the cab and fell across his face. Jira huddled next to him, he could feel her shivering from the cool of the night. Laying his arm about her, he thought of her father and hoped he yet lived.

  Very gently so as not to awaken her, he repositioned her so she would lie the other way, and then got out of the truck. A night spent in the cab had left a crick in his back that was in need of stretching. Canceling the shield that had provided protection throughout the night, he walked around the truck to stretch his legs, back, and arms.

  He still couldn’t believe it had been Seth’s father who had found him first. Well did he remember Dave’s account of the way in which the man had accosted him shortly after James’ disappearance, blaming him for Seth’s.

  Now in the cool light of dawn, he realized he shouldn’t have been lenient. To allow one to live who was bent on his destruction was not the wisest course of action he could have taken. It had, however, alleviated much of the guilt he had been burdened with since that fateful morning when he realized it was Seth that the wolves had killed.