Off to one side he sees Khalim’s father. Riding over to him he says, “Surely you will seek to save the life of your son?”
With downcast eyes Khalim’s father replies, “I have three other children Zyrn. We have to think what is best for the village.”
“How can you say that?” he yells. “Khalim’s death will not stop the approach of the grayness. All it will accomplish is the death of an innocent man.” The father remains quiet, eyes downcast in shame.
Looking around at the assembled villagers, men and women he’s known all his life, he cries out, “Will no one come with me?” Not one person answers. He sits there on his horse in disbelief, amazed at the lengths good people will go when fear rules them. Saddened by what his village has become, he slowly passes among those he thought he knew until he comes to his home. Dismounting, he leaves his horse out front and enters through his front door.
Despondent, he sits alone and grieves.
Hours later, Maki and the others return without Khalim. There is little rejoicing as they make their way through the buildings, faces peer out from windows but none come to greet them. When they reach the lane outside his home, Zyrn remains within and simply stares at them through the window as they go by.
A few glance his way but when they see him staring, quickly lower their eyes to the ground. “Fools!” whispers Zyrn to himself. When they at last move out of his line of sight, he heads off to bed.
The following morning, he again takes six swords and readies to return to the grayness. Jatta makes to approach him while he’s securing the bundle behind his saddle and stops when he sees Zyrn shake his head. Swinging up into the saddle, he turns his back on his longtime friend and rides out of the village without a word.
Out at the fringe of the gray area he finds the dead body of Khalim. Lying next to one of the swords he placed there the day before, his body shimmers with the grayness that has continued to advance. What a waste!
Dismounting a dozen yards from the fringe, he removes his bundle and begins marking the boundary once more. When he’s done, he takes his horse by the reins and begins walking back home. Not in any hurry to return there, he wonders if he can even live among people who are capable of such an act.
No matter what may happen, his home will never be the same. Not after something like this. Deep in his thoughts, he fails to see the approaching riders before they’re almost upon him.
“Zyrn!” one of the riders cries. It’s the man whom he had sent for the priest, and riding at his side is the priest himself. Wearing the robes of a priest of Dmon-Li, the man looks at him rather haughtily.
“Thank goodness you came Father,” Zyrn says as the priest approaches.
“Yes, yes, yes,” the priest says rather impatiently. “This young man here was most insistent about some sort of problem. He harangued us until the temple gave in and sent me.” Looking as if he feels this is going to be a complete waste of time and is only doing it because he has to, he adds, “So where is this ‘thing’?”
Swinging into the saddle, Zyrn turns his horse back toward where he’s been marking the fringe and says, “It’s this way, about a mile.”
Sighing, the priest says, “Lead on. Let’s get this over with.”
Kicking his horse into a fast trot, Zyrn leads the priest and the rider back to the grayness. When it comes into view, he says, “There it is.”
At first it looks nothing more than the haze you would see from the heat rising off the ground. “Is this some sort of joke?” he priest asks, not amused.
Zyrn remains quiet as they continue to close the distance. Soon the rows of swords he has placed there over the past few days become visible where they are sticking out of the ground. He turns back to the priest and says, “I used the swords to mark the edge. It’s growing.”
The priest finally realizes the shimmer is not due to the heat as he at first thought. “What is it?” he asks, a nervous catch to his voice.
“I don’t know,” replies Zyrn. “But it’s deadly. Whatever it touches, dies.”
Then the priest gasps when he sees the body of Khalim lying within the shimmering field of gray.
“That’s Khalim,” explains Zyrn. “Last night, several men from my village brought him out here as a sacrifice thinking it would appease the gods.”
“Why did they do that?” the priest asks.
Launching into the tale, Zyrn relates everything to the priest. From the first scavenging expedition, the second ill-fated one when all but Khalim had fallen to the grayness, and ending at the senseless sacrifice of Khalim.
Dismounting, the priest advances toward the carpet of gray. “Don’t get too close,” warns Zyrn, “it can advance pretty fast at times.”
Nodding, the priest continues to draw closer to the fringe until he stands three yards away. Reaching down, he picks up a scorpion that was crawling across the dirt and tosses it into the shimmering gray. He watches as the scorpion lands within the grayness, takes two steps then stops. Its body gradually grows to be the same color as the grayness.
“Fascinating,” he says.
“Is there anything you can do about it?” Zyrn asks.
The priest waves away the question. Summoning the magic of his god, he sends it out to the grayness in an attempt to discover what it is.
Zyrn watches as the priest closes his eyes and concentrates. At first nothing happens. Then a ripple seems to roll across the surface of the deadly grayness toward the priest, like a wave across the surface of a placid pond.
“Uh,” begins Zyrn in warning to the priest as the wave rolls toward him. Backing up, he and the other man put some distance between themselves and the priest.
Then all of a sudden, the priest cries out as the grayness surges outwards. His cry is cut short as he and his horse become completely enveloped by the mass of shimmering gray.
Zyrn turns and runs as the grayness continues to sweep forward. Another horse cries in pain and fear as the gray comes in contact with its hoof. Glancing backward, he sees the horse stumble then collapse as the wave of gray seems to wash over it.
“Run!” he yells as the gray continues to sweep toward them. Running for their lives, Zyrn and the other man race across the sand. Glancing back to see how close it is, he slows then comes to a stop when he discovers it is no longer advancing toward them.
“Lord help us,” he says as he sees the edge of the grayness now over a hundred yards further out from where it had been this morning. The body of the horse and the priest are now just lumps far within it.
“What are we to do now?” the man asks him.
Shaking his head in reply, Zyrn remains silent. It had reacted to the magic of the priest. He and others have been in as close proximity to it before and it had never reacted as it did just now. Could it be alive? If so he has no idea what that could mean.
He stands there thinking for several minutes as he contemplates the situation. The sound of the man leading the remaining horse over to him snaps him out of his reverie. “We better get back home,” Zyrn says.
Climbing into the saddle, he reaches down and helps the man to swing onto the horse behind him. Riding double, they begin the trek back to the village.
Chapter Nine
_________________________
Since parting with Hedry, James and the others rode throughout the night with hardly any breaks. At one point during the night they came across a major road running east and west. Wishing that it ran more north and south so they could follow it, they crossed it and left it behind. Now hours later, the sun is beginning to peek over the horizon. James calls a halt. “Let’s give the horses a break and I’ll see what I can find out about Tinok,” he tells the others.
Dismounting, he and Jiron move away from where the others are getting a quick bite to eat. Removing his mirror from his belt pouch, he holds it in his hands as he concentrates on Tinok.
Jiron watches the mirror with keen interest but after several minutes of trying, its surface fails to do anythi
ng. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” replies James. “It could be he’s too far away, the drain of magic for the spell continued to increase which is an indicator that what I’m looking for is nowhere close.” Giving up, he puts the mirror back in his pouch and pulls out the piece of cloth. “I wish I had my compass back,” he says. The compass in question is the one he made way back when he first arrived in Trendle after coming to this world. Fashioned from wood, it would turn and indicate the desired direction when he used it in conjunction with magic to try to find something. Not for the first time he wishes he would have had the good sense to have another built while he was at The Ranch all last winter.
Jiron nods. He remembers how well it had worked. But the cloth works fairly well, though it will most likely attract the attention of anyone close by when he uses it. After all, a cloth that all of a sudden rises and moves to point in a certain direction, who wouldn’t do a double-take if they saw that.
Sighing, James holds one end of the cloth in his hand and concentrates on which way Tinok lies. Letting the magic flow, he opens his eyes and watches as the cloth rises until it’s pointing in a rigid line. Based on the position of the sun, it’s pointing off to the south.
“We figured that,” says Jiron, James nods his head in agreement.
Stopping the spell, James returns the strip of cloth to his pouch.
“Wish it would tell us how far away he is,” Jiron says, and not for the first time.
“Maybe in a day or two I’ll get a better idea where he is,” James says hopefully. “Eventually we will be close enough for the mirror to pick him up.”
The others have finished their meal of dried beef and water. Brother Willim brings James and Jiron over a portion. “Did you find him?” he asks.
Shaking his head, Jiron replies, “No. He’s to the south, but James is unable to determine how far.”
“We’ll find him,” Brother Willim says matter-of-factly.
They eat their less than appetizing breakfast and then return to the saddle. In no time they are once again racing across the desert.
This section of the desert is uninhabited, its proximity to the border of Madoc probably accounts for most of the reason. Whatever the reason, James is glad they are able to move into the Empire without being noticed.
They ride for awhile when Shorty hollers out, “Rider to the east!”
Slowing down, they see a lone rider moving at a leisurely pace. The direction in which he’s moving will cause him to cross their path further to the south. “Should we see what he’s about?” asks Stig.
“No,” replies James. “The less who knows we’re here the better. Still, keep an eye on him.” It takes the rider several minutes before he’s even aware they are there. When he does, he immediately alters course to intercept. No longer moving at his leisurely pace, the rider is practically flying across the desert toward them.
“Damn,” curses James. “Reilin!” he hollers to the Raider who is there to translate for them. When he has his attention, he says, “Go see what he wants before he gets here.”
“Yes sir,” Reilin replies. Kicking his horse into a gallop, he moves to intercept the rider.
The rest of them continue along their original course while they keep an eye on Reilin and the other rider. By the time Reilin reaches the rider and they stop, the rider has come to within a hundred feet of the rest of them.
Before Reilin has a chance to say anything, the rider begins talking quickly. What’s being said is lost to the others but the rider is obviously agitated about something. Finally quieting down, the rider listens to Reilin for a moment before once again launching into another animated speech.
When it doesn’t look as if Reilin is getting rid of the man, James says, “Jiron, go see what’s taking so long.”
“Right.” Nudging his horse in the sides, he makes his way over and joins them. Reilin turns at his approach and the other rider grows silent again as Reilin talks to Jiron. Jiron asks a question and waits for the translation and then again for the rider’s answer.
By this time James has brought the others to a stop. Surprised it has taken this long, he pulls out a strip of dried beef and chews on it absentmindedly while he waits. He doesn’t have to wait long before Jiron leaves Reilin and the rider where they are and returns to the group.
“What’s going on?” James asks as he nears. The look on Jiron’s face says it’s anything but something simple.
“The man’s name is Zyrn,” he begins. “He’s a leader of a nearby village. He wanted to warn us not to go west.”
“Why?” asks Potbelly.
“I didn’t get the whole tale, but the gist of it is that it’s death for anyone to go there,” he explains. “Also, he says there was a big battle there not too long ago.”
“A battle?” asks Miko. “As in the battle we barely survived?”
“I think so,” he replies with a nod.
They all remember the mammoth explosion and then the fire that coated the outside of the barrier for a time. “What is it that’s killing them?” James asks. Visions of radiation fallout run through his mind.
“Now this is where it gets kind of strange,” admits Jiron. “In fact, if it wasn’t for all I’ve seen and been through since I first met you, I would discount it as the man has lost his mind.” He glances around at the others a moment before continuing. “He says the sand is killing them. That the sand is turning into a shimmering carpet of gray and whatever it touches, dies. He says it’s growing.”
Everyone but James and Miko, who had been unconscious at the time, remember the gray sand they traveled through when they left the battlefield. Which only lends credence to what the man is saying.
James has never heard of anything like this. Though he wasn’t conscious when the bubble exploded at the end of the battle, he’s heard plenty of accounts from various people as to its effect. Could he have caused this? In a world with magic, gods and other planes of existence, it’s possible.
Nodding over to where Zyrn waits with Reilin, Jiron asks, “What should I tell him?”
Sighing, James knows what he’s going to have to do. If nothing else at least go and see for himself what this man is talking about. “Go and ask him if he’ll take us there,” he says.
Turning his horse back toward where the man waits, Jiron hurries back over to him. As soon as he reaches the man and tells him what James said, Zyrn begins shaking his head. Then he kicks his horse and rides toward James and the others with Reilin and Jiron right behind.
“No, no, no!” he cries out. “You must not go there!” He waits for Reilin to come and translate. “It is a cursed place. Too dangerous!”
James waits for the translation then says, “Regardless, we are going to see this thing for ourselves.” The pain on Zyrn’s face is evident when Reilin translates for him. “Where can we find it?”
“Hey, aren’t those Parvati swords?” Scar suddenly asks, indicating the handles of the swords sticking out of the bundle behind Zyrn’s saddle.
“Yes,” replies Zyrn. “After the battle I and many from my village came and scavenged what we could.” He can see their disapproval stares directed at him and adds, “Our lives are hard. This is the only way we can survive.” Lowering his eyes, he says, “Of course, there may soon be nothing left anyway.”
“We’ll see about that,” James states. “Now, will you lead us there?”
Realizing they plan to go despite his warning, he nods his head. “Yes,” he says, “I will show you. But be warned, it has already claimed the lives of many.” Turning his horse in the direction of the grayness, he leads them toward it.
James rides directly behind Zyrn with Jiron and Brother Willim. “Do you think we caused this?” Brother Willim asks.
Shrugging, James replies, “I don’t know. We’ll know more when we get there.” He raises his voice and asks Zyrn, “How far is it?”
Reilin, who is riding next to Zyrn, translates then replies �
�A little over an hour.”
James rides in silence, mulling over what Zyrn has told them.
When the shimmering grayness appears on the horizon, Zyrn stops. “There it is,” he says. As James begins to continue forward, he stops him. “Do not approach too closely, it sometimes advances rapidly.”
“Thanks,” replies James, “I’ll remember that.” Moving forward with Zyrn and Reilin beside him he’s awed by the sheer size of the thing. It’s immense! He notices the rings of swords standing upright far within the gray mass. Pointing to them, he asks Zyrn, “Marking the edge to see how fast it was expanding?”
Surprised that he would have realized that Zyrn says, “Yes. It’s been growing about six feet a day.” He points to where two rows have a large gap in one area. “Though it isn’t consistent, some areas grow faster than others.”
Nodding, James assimilates that as he continues riding toward it. A hundred yards from the fringe, he brings them to a stop. Dismounting, he says to the others, “You stay here. I’m going to get a closer look.”
When Zyrn hears that he rushes to James’ side and says, “You cannot!” Taking hold of James by the arms he stares into his eyes, “This is nothing to trifle with.”
Jiron comes and disengages Zyrn from James. “Don’t worry,” he tells him, “we can take care of ourselves.” With James go Brother Willim and Jiron. Zyrn tries to go with them too but Scar and Potbelly stop him.
“What do you make of it?” asks Jiron.
“I don’t know,” he replies. “Kind of reminds me of the Blob.”
“The Blob?” Brother Willim asks.
“Sorry, it’s a story from my world about a gelatinous ooze that eats everything it comes into contact with,” he explains. “Of course the thing I never understood about it was, if its touch would dissolve metal, what kept it from just sinking into the ground?” He gives them a grin when he sees the lost looks on their faces. “But that wouldn’t make for a good story now would it?”
The Mists of Sorrow: The Morcyth Saga Book Seven Page 11