Warrior Priest of Dmon-Li: The Morcyth Saga Book Three

by Brian S. Pratt

  “He knows that his ship, fully loaded as it is, could never catch us,” Captain Hawls explains. “He might get in some trouble for refusing but there’s really nothing that guy can do about it.”

  “That’s good to know,” James says.

  “Just get yourselves settled in and we’ll be in Fairview sometime tomorrow,” the captain tells him.

  “Very well,” James says as he moves back over to where the others are still gathered watching the spectacle on the docks. The merchant ship’s captain is standing defiant before the men on the docks. He’s even put two of his men with bows beside him to prevent anyone from coming aboard.

  Miko sees him coming and meets him halfway with a small sack in his hands. Reaching in, he pulls out a tart and with a grin offers it to James.

  Taking it, he asks, “Where’d you get these?”

  “Back in Lythylla,” he replies. Taking out another, he begins eating it. “They’re a bit stale now.”

  Taking a bite, James agrees. “But still good. Thank you Miko.”

  “You’re welcome,” he says, pleased to have made his friend happy.

  Late afternoon the following day, they spy Fairview on the horizon. An hour after that, Captain Hawls settles his ship against the dock. Two of his crew tosses the guide ropes to waiting dockhands who secure them to the dock.

  When the ship has come to a stop and the gangplank has been secured in place, James comes to Captain Hawls and says, “We appreciate the ride, captain.”

  “Anytime, James,” he replies. “I still owe you for getting me out of that jail. If you’re ever in these parts and need a ride, just let me know.”

  “I will, thank you,” he says to him.

  Illan leads them off the gangplank and says, “There’s a horse trader not too far from here.”

  “Perfect,” says James. “Lead on.”

  They follow Illan down the streets until they come to a large corral containing dozens of horses. A large, rambling building curves around one side, and that’s where Illan leads them.

  Before they get to the building, a man is seen in the corral as he puts a horse through its paces. He holds the tether in one hand as he has the horse run around in a circle.

  Illan stops them at the edge of the corral just as the man takes notice of them. The man walks with the horse over to the side of corral and asks, “Can I help you gentlemen?”

  “We’re looking to purchase ten horses,” explains Illan.

  The man’s face lights up when he hears that. Gesturing to the horses within the corral, he says, “We have many horses here, I’m sure we can find ones to fit your need.”

  “It looks like it,” agrees James. “How much for ten?”

  “You can have your pick for seven hundred,” the man replies.

  James looks to Illan who shakes his head negatively, indicating he doesn’t have that much. Letting Illan do the haggling, James casts his gaze out over the corralled horses, he can see many fine animals there.

  Illan works the man down to six hundred and twenty two, which is only five gold pieces less than what they have. Fortunately, the price also includes saddles and all the gear they’ll need.

  They move into the building, where they empty the bags of gold they received from the sale of their other horses onto a table. Everyone also had to empty their own pouches in order to come up with the required sum.

  Once the gold had been counted, they return to the corral where ten horses are rounded up. Sterrin, the horse trader, has his apprentices saddle the horses for them while they wait.

  “Is Dragon’s Pass still in friendly hands?” Illan asks the horse trader.

  Nodding, he replies, “Last I heard. There have been incursions of the Empire’s men in the area when they can sneak past our patrols. Mostly, though, it’s safe.”

  “Good,” states Uther. “Hope it stays that way.”

  “Me too,” Hinney adds.

  “How far is it to the Dragon’s Pass?” James asks Sterrin.

  “About two days,” he tells him.

  One of the apprentices comes and informs them the horses are ready. Once everyone is mounted, they wave goodbye to Sterrin and his apprentices before they leave the corral area.

  “Better get some rations before we head out,” Illan tells them as he pulls up outside of a shop that deals in travel supplies. He takes Uther, Jorry and the rest of their money into the shop while everyone else waits outside on their horses. They return shortly with several pouches bulging with food and secure them behind their saddles.

  After they get back in the saddle, Illan leads them westward along the road out of town. “If we follow this road,” he explains to them, “it will take us directly to Dragon’s Pass. And from there, I think it’s perhaps another day to Trendle.”

  Jiron glances to James and says, “I hope everyone made it there alright.”

  “I’m sure they have,” he assures him. “With Scar, Potbelly and the rest, what could possibly have happened?”

  “True,” he says.

  Moving quickly, they cover many miles before the sun begins to dip near the horizon. “Perhaps we should make camp now?” suggests Illan. “No need to push it hard.”

  “Sure,” agrees James.

  They find a good spot off the road and make camp. A fire is quickly built and enough wood is gathered to allow it to burn all night. Even though they’re in friendly territory, the words of warning from Sterrin convince them to post a watch. As Uther says, “You never know.”

  The night passes without incident and they’re quickly underway shortly after the sky begins to lighten. James rides in the lead with Jiron on one side and Miko on the other. To Jiron he asks, “How’s the shoulder?”

  Rubbing it, Jiron replies, “Hurts, but it’s getting better. At least it’s not oozing blood anymore. Another week or two and I’ll be able to use it again.”

  “I’m glad,” says James. “I was worried it might’ve been injured permanently.”

  “Won’t really know until it heals more,” Jiron says. “It doesn’t feel as if anything major is wrong with it.”

  “What’s Trendle like?” asks Miko.

  “Just a small farming community, really,” explains James. “Good people.”

  “What’re we going to do there?” he asks.

  “First of all,” James tells him, “I think we should all take a much deserved rest for a while. Give us time to fully recover from all that’s happened to us.”

  “What about you?” Jiron asks. “Are you still going to search for more on Morcyth?”

  “I intend to,” answers James. “But I need to rest and think about some things first. I want to be better prepared than I have been.”

  “Makes sense,” nods Jiron.

  “I have some ideas I’ve been thinking on the last week or so,” he says to them. “Ever since we left that complex in the swamp, I’ve been thinking about those crystals we found there.”

  “Oh?” asks Miko. “Like what?”

  “Not really sure, but I think I may be able to use them to harness and store magical energy,” he explains. “If I can, then there is really no limit to what I might be able to do.”

  “How are you going to do that?” Jiron asks.

  Shrugging, he replies, “I haven’t a clue. But I believe it’s possible so I’m sure I’ll be able to figure it out. Remember that large crystal above that lake?”

  They nod their heads, and then Jiron says, “Yeah, I remember.”

  “Well, that one had magic in it, or at least passing through it,” he tells them. “I just need to figure out how they did that.”

  “I see,” comments Jiron.

  James also remembers an encounter with that little creature, Igor. It always had seemed odd that they’d gone for pizza that time, but after seeing those crystals, he remembered how Mama had been watching Star Trek. It didn’t register at the time, but she had said how the episode was the one where they’d had to recharge the dilitium crystals.
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  Perhaps that was why he’d been taken there, to have him think in that direction. If so, why Igor didn’t just come out and say it remains a mystery.

  The mountains to the west continue growing in size as the day progresses and near the end of the day they can see where the road enters the mountain range.

  “Should be there by nightfall,” Illan announces to everyone.

  “Are we going to make camp before entering the mountains?” asks Yern.

  “That would probably be advisable,” Illan says. “I think it would be best to take the pass in the daylight, less chance of taking a misstep in the dark.”

  “I was hoping we would,” says a tired Keril from the rear. He and Hinney had been back there all day and were tired of eating everyone’s dust. Those two had been friends long before joining Miller’s band and tended to stay together for the most part.

  The grasslands stay fairly flat all the way to where the mountains begin rising up to the sky. They find a good spot to camp about a half mile from the pass entrance. As the sun sets, they go about finding enough wood to last the night and settle down to eat the rations they bought in Fairview.

  A shadow, some distance away, watches their camp as the night deepens. Once he realizes they are staying put for the night, the scout remounts his horse and rides back to the main party, some miles to the south.

  Chapter Thirty Two

  _________________________

  As the eastern sky begins to dawn, they have a quick bite to eat before saddling the horses. “Should make Trendle sometime tomorrow,” Illan tells the rest of them.

  He takes the lead as they move toward the pass entrance. Appearing out of the pass entrance before them are about twenty horsemen. One of the riders brings a horn to his lips and blares forth three quick notes. Answering horns can be heard sounding from all around them. Illan brings them to a stop.

  “James,” Miko says as he brings his horse closer to his, “what’s happening?”

  From all sides, horsemen appear. Jiron’s knife leaps into his good hand as he takes in the hundreds of approaching horsemen who’re moving to surround them.

  Suddenly, a familiar tingling sensation begins to make itself known to James. He looks to the pass and sees four horsemen detach themselves from the others. They begin moving down to where James and the others wait. One of them is dressed in armor and a shudder goes through him when he recognizes him.

  “Abula-Mazki!” he breathes.

  “What?” Jiron asks.

  Pointing to the riders coming from the pass, James says, “Abula-Mazki. It seems he didn’t die when the catacombs collapsed.”

  “Who is he?” asks Jorry.

  “A warrior priest of Dmon-Li,” he replies. “I thought we’d rid ourselves of him some time ago.”

  The surrounding riders move to within a hundred yards before coming to a stop. James recognizes the Wolf Clan, as well as patterns of two other clans from the Gathering.

  “How did they know to be here?” Miko asks.

  “I don’t know,” replies James as he keeps his eye on the approaching warrior priest. The others with him look to be the chiefs of the clans, James recognizes them from when he’d been questioned before the council.

  “It looks as if they wish to parley,” Illan says as he glances to James.

  “Should we?” Jiron asks him. “I don’t trust him to be honorable.”

  “No, I don’t either,” agrees James. “But if it holds off an immediate attack, perhaps I should go and see what he has to say.” Turning to Miko, he says, “You stay here.”

  “Okay, James,” replies Miko.

  As he moves out to meet with Abula-Mazki, Illan and Jiron join him. He can see that the warrior priest did not come away unscathed from his ordeal in the catacombs. His face is horribly marred and his armor looks to have been crushed and then reshaped. Strong indeed must the magic of Dmon-Li be to allow him to survive such punishment.

  Both parties come to a stop once they’re ten feet away from each other. The Chief of the Grey Wolf clan looks with undisguised hatred at James.

  “Abula-Mazki,” begins James. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

  “I’ll make this simple,” the warrior priest says. “I want the one carrying the Star, the rest can go free. Resist, and you’ll all die!”

  Pulling out the Star, he shows it to him and asks, “Why is this so troubling to you?”

  Abula-Mazki’s eyes lock on the Star as he replies, “Priest of Morcyth, I’d strike you down now if I didn’t need you alive!”

  James contemplates the situation quickly and comes to the conclusion that there’s no way their party will be able to withstand the combined might of the clan riders and the magic of Abula-Mazki. Either one by themselves, maybe, but not together.

  Then an idea begins to form in his mind, one he doesn’t care too much for, but there may not be another way, “I have a proposition for you.”

  “What is it?” Abula-Mazki asks.

  “I propose we each chose a champion to decide the outcome,” explains James. “If yours wins, I go with you willingly. If mine wins, you allow us to continue, unhindered.”

  A smile spreads across his face as Abula-Mazki listens to him. “Swear upon the Star, Priest of Morcyth, and I’ll agree to your proposal.”

  Holding the Star high, James says, “I swear to go with the warrior priest Abula-Mazki should his champion win.”

  “Very well, priest,” he says. “I agree.”

  “Give us a few minutes to prepare, and our champion will return here to this spot,” James says.

  “You have ten minutes, no more,” he warns him.

  Nodding, James replies, “That is agreeable.”

  Both parties turn around and return to the others waiting for them.

  When James, Illan and Jiron arrive, Uther says, “I know how they knew to be here.”

  Every eye turns to him as James asks, “How?”

  Gesturing to the group of riders in the pass, he says, “If you look, you’ll see the man who was outside our door just before we left.”

  They all turn and sure enough, the man who they’d chased out from in front of their door back at the inn in Seastar is among them. “Damn!” Illan exclaims. “I thought he was working for Councilman Rillian.”

  “So did we all,” Jiron adds.

  “Maybe he was,” Yern suggests. “What he’d heard could’ve been relayed from Councilman Rillian to them.”

  “True,” agrees Illan. “They must’ve almost killed their horses to get here so fast.”

  “So what happened?” Fifer asks.

  James fills them in on what was said and the deal he’d made. At hearing that, Jiron says, “James, there’s no way I can win a fight with my shoulder the way it is.”

  “Besides,” Illan says, “there’s only one person he’s going to select as champion, and that will be himself. The warrior priests are terrible foes, I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of one being beaten by another living mortal. Who among us could even hope of defeating a warrior priest of Dmon-Li?”

  He glances around at the faces looking to him until he settles on one, “Another warrior priest of Dmon-Li.”

  Staring back into James’ eyes, Miko takes a sudden intake of breath. “What? Are you crazy?” He glances around at the others assembled there and says, “I’m no warrior, let alone a match for someone like Abula-Mazki.”

  Illan glances from Miko, to James, then back to Miko. His head begins to nod slowly as he says, “Perhaps.”

  Miko turns his attention to Illan as he says, “You can’t be serious!”

  “I’ve seen you fight,” he tells him. He gestures at the rest of those gathered there before continuing, “None of us can even hope to match what you do. You’re the only choice.”

  “James,” Jiron says to him. “We can’t take that chance, not with…”

  “I know,” he replies. “But that’s just what I’m counting on. With it, Miko has a chance to beat him.”


  The others look confused, not understanding what they’re talking about. James turns to Hinney and says, “Give your armor to Miko. I think you’re about the same size.” As he begins removing his armor, James comes over to Miko and says, “You can do this. There really is no one else.”

  Miko’s eyes show the fear and doubt that he’s feeling inside. James leans closer and whispers so only he will hear, “The Fire will aid you. It already has in every battle you’ve fought.”

  Coming back to look him in the eye, he says, “I believe you can do it.”

  “But, what if I lose myself for good?” he asks. “It’s been harder each time to come back out of it.”

  “I won’t let that happen,” James assures him. “I promise.”

  Jorry and Uther come over and begin to help him in putting on Hinney’s armor. “Let me have your sword,” James says.

  “What’re you going to do?” Miko asks as he hands it over to him. A pile begins to form at his feet from all the excess equipment they are removing from him in order to make room for the armor. The only pouch he retains is the one containing the Fire.

  “Make it stronger, better able to withstand whatever he may do,” he replies. He holds the sword out before him and begins concentrating as he readies the magic. Hoping he remembers enough from the shows on television he’d seen about metallurgy and sword making, he lets the magic begin to flow as he works on removing the impurities and strengthening the iron into steel.

  He stands there for five minutes as he works on the sword. When he at last feels it’s complete, he stops the spell and hands the sword to Illan. “Tell me what you think.”

  Taking the sword, he tests it for balance and weight, all the while nodding his head approvingly. Then he checks the edge by running his thumb along it. The barest of pressure cuts through the skin and a drop of blood begins to form.

  He holds the sword out and then turns to Fifer, “Take out your sword and strike it.”