The Mists of Sorrow: The Morcyth Saga Book Seven

by Brian S. Pratt

  James can see the expression of fear in the man’s eyes. The officer had to have seen the earlier explosions and understands what might be the consequences of barring his way. “I’m trying to save the lives of you and your men,” he says. “I’m heartily sick of causing the death of others.”

  “If I should step aside and allow you to leave,” the officer states, “our lives would be forfeit in any event.”

  James sighs and shakes his head sadly. “So be it then,” he says. Turning around, he returns back to where the others are waiting. Once he returns, he moves next to Brother Willim and whispers something in his ear. When he’s done speaking, he looks for Brother Willim’s response.

  Nodding, Brother Willim says, “It can be done.”

  “Then please do so,” he replies.

  The green glow that always accompanies the priest whenever he calls forth his god’s power now springs to life around him. Raising his hands, he calls for aid.

  It takes but a moment before a commotion develops near the gate. The lines of soldiers that had stood so uniformly are now deteriorating into chaos as ants boil out of the ground. Not the red fire ants as before, but still annoying and painful as they crawl inside the men’s armor and begin biting.

  “Thank you Brother Willim,” says James. To the rest he says, “Give me a minute before following.” Moving forward to the gates again, he gets his horse up to a fast trot. At the edge of the carpet of ants, he sees the ants move aside as if allowing him to pass. Glancing back, he sees the glow still surrounding Brother Willim as he works to control the swarm of ants.

  Still encased in his barrier, he nudges his horse forward. With every step his horse takes, the ants move aside and away. Not having to worry about the ants climbing his horse’s legs, he winds his way through the men writhing on the ground, some almost completely coated in ants, on his way to the gate.

  He passes by the officer with whom he spoke to earlier. Lying on the ground, the man’s hands work to try and remove the ants. But for every ten he brushes off, a hundred take their place. For a moment their eyes lock. “I told you I don’t like to kill,” he tells him.

  Continuing his forward motion, he reaches the gate. He comes close enough so that he can place his hand upon its surface. Summoning the magic, he sends it out in one massive surge that blasts the gates open.

  The thunder of hooves comes to him as the others race for the gates. He moves back to the officer and says, “I could have killed you and your men, but didn’t. Remember that.” The officer looks to him but doesn’t make any sort of response.

  “Come on man,” Jiron says to him as he reaches the swarm. Using the same path as had James, he and the others race through and leave the city.

  James kicks his horse into motion and follows after. Outside the gates, they take the southeast road, the one that leads to the city of Cyst. The city where Azku said the man could be found from whom he bought Cassie’s necklace.

  Pushing their horses into a gallop, they don’t make it far from the city before they see a dozen riders exiting through the broken gates in pursuit. “Hey!” exclaims Scar. “Two of them are Stig and Shorty!” Coming to a quick stop, they turn to find that Stig and Shorty are not part of the other force of riders, rather they are being chased by them.

  James turns back toward the oncoming riders. When Jiron and the others move to join him, he says, “I’ll take care of this,” as a dazzling shield springs into being around him. Brighter by far than any other he’s ever created, it almost rivals the sun in brilliance as sparks pop and crackles across its surface.

  Crumph! Crumph!

  Two explosions on either side of the road throw dirt and sand upon the riders. Coming to a quick halt, the riders seem as if they are contemplating the wisdom of continuing. To help make up their minds, James suddenly kicks his horse in the flanks and races forward.

  Stig and Shorty fly past as he moves toward the riders. The expressions on many of their faces are ones of fear. To go after fleeing riders is one thing, but to go head to head with a mage of such power is quite another. Their minds finally made up, they turn tail and race back to Morac.

  James cancels his spectacular shield once they are fully on their way and then turns his horse back to return to the others.

  “Yeah,” Shorty says as he talks to Jiron, “after those soldiers chased you out of the inn’s courtyard, we took two of the horses and exited the other way. We figured the rest of you could handle things well enough without us so worked our way toward one of the gates.”

  “That’s right,” adds Stig. “Then when we heard the explosion that must have taken out the gate, we raced toward where you were and arrived just after you left. That’s when those riders back there showed up and gave chase.”

  “Glad to have you back,” James tells them. “It might be wise to put as much distance between us and here as fast as we can. I expect pursuit to materialize pretty soon.”

  “Then let’s not sit here and talk,” says Jiron. “Cyst awaits.” Turning to follow the road once more to the southeast, he quickly gets his horse up to a fast gallop with the others right behind.

  Once Morac has disappeared in the distance behind them, Jiron angles them off the road in an almost due easterly direction. Moving deeper into the desert and away from the road, he doesn’t turn them to the south until the road and the travelers upon it are no longer in sight. Then he turns to run parallel to the road on its way southeast to Cyst.

  Throughout the day, James begins sinking into depression. By the time darkness falls and they’ve moved even further into the desert to make camp, he’s withdrawn into himself and only makes one word answers when spoken to.

  The others allow him time to himself, those who have ridden with him for some time now know that this is something that comes over him once in a while. Brother Willim however is unable to let him wallow in whatever misery has him in its grip. Once their meal is ready, he takes two bowls of stew and goes over to where James is sitting.

  Holding out the bowl, Brother Willim says, “Here.”

  James takes it and gives him a short, “Thank you.”

  “Mind if I sit down?” he asks.

  James shrugs and says, “No.”

  Taking a seat on the ground facing him, Brother Willim dips his spoon into the so-called stew and begins eating. He watches James for a moment before saying, “I can tell there’s something gnawing away at you.” James glances up to meet his gaze but makes no comment. “It might ease your mind if you tell me about it.”

  Locking eyes with the priest, James says, “Confession good for the soul?”

  Brother Willim gives him a brief grin. “Never heard it put that way before, but yes. There are times when keeping your troubles bottled inside can do more harm than good. A tree cannot grow tall if there’s a disease eating it away from the inside.”

  James takes another bite and sighs. “The weight of the dead is heavy,” he begins. Glancing again at Brother Willim, he sees the concern and worry for him in his eyes. “Before I came here, I had never been near the dead and dying. Oh sure, I watched the news but had never connected to it emotionally. They say that my people are growing numb to that sort of thing. Heck, we’re inundated with it all the time from every direction. Newspapers, TV, radio, everyday you hear about how this person was found dead, or that person killed for political or religious reasons. But it never really hits you.”

  “But now, I personally have been responsible for hundreds, if not thousands of deaths,” he states.

  Brother Willim can see the pain behind his eyes. “I understand the weight you carry,” he says understandingly. “Events, unfortunately, have not given you any other options.”

  In a voice that’s barely above a whisper, he says, “But that’s not the worst of it.” He glances up to the priest, holds out his hand and creates one of his spheres. “You’ve seen me use this?” he asks.

  Brother Willim nods gravely. “Yes,” he replies.

  He r
olls it around in his hand as he explains. “This is the most evil thing I have ever done,” he admits.

  “Evil?” says Brother Willim. “I wouldn’t so name yourself, or your deeds.”

  “You don’t understand.” Holding the sphere between his forefinger and thumb he brings it up in front of the brother’s face. “With this, I suck the life from people and use it to kill. First it leeches power from everything nearby, then I am able to utilize that power in various ways. Barriers, fire, explosions, you name it and I can do it.”

  Nodding his head, Brother Willim remains silent as James continues.

  “Isn’t that wrong?” he asks as his eyes turn to gaze at the sphere between his fingers. “To steal the life that the gods have given them?” He then goes quiet as the sphere disappears and he looks to Brother Willim for a response.

  “Our lord Asran teaches us that to take the life of any living thing is wrong,” he says. “Whether it be birds, fish, insects…” and then he pauses a moment before adding, “or man. But we do need to survive, and so we kill animals to feed ourselves, clothe ourselves and so forth.”

  “But men are not animals,” he insists.

  “No, that is true,” he admits. “But let me ask you this. If a man was intent on taking your life, would you have any compunction whatsoever about removing one of your slugs from your belt and killing him with it? If that was the only way in which to preserve your life?”

  “Yes, though I wouldn’t want to,” he replies.

  “And later, would you agonize over it like you are doing now?” he asks.

  “Not so much, no,” he admits.

  “Whether you take the life of someone with a sword, knife, or even a slug, is no better or worse than what you are doing with your sphere,” he says.

  “Then why do I feel this way?” he asks.

  “You feel this way because you are a good man,” he explains. “Each person has within them the knowledge of right and wrong. Some say it is learned from those around them as they grow up, others believe that it comes from the gods.”

  James nods. “I understand what you’re talking about,” he says. “My people call it a moral compass.”

  “You are feeling this way because you are going against yours. You feel this is wrong, so your ‘moral compass’ is working to keep you from continuing down this path.” He pauses a moment to see what affect his words are having. When James makes no comment he adds, “Are you finding it easier to do the things you feel are wrong?”

  “When I first discovered that the power within everyone could be taken and used, I was appalled and told myself that I would never do it,” he explains. “Or rather not to do it unless absolutely necessary. Now though, I seem to be doing it on a regular basis.” He turns pained eyes toward Brother Willim and says, “Now it’s almost as if it’s becoming a habit. I no longer even try to come up with another way.”

  “The easiest path is often the most dangerous,” Brother Willim states. “The more you do what you know is wrong, the easier it will become the next time. And the next time.”

  “What can I do?” James asks.

  “The solution to your problem is simple,” he says. “Stop doing what you know is wrong.”

  “But, that could cost us our lives if I don’t,” he replies.

  Brother Willim gives him a look of sadness. “As long you can come up with reasons why you must do things against your ‘moral compass’, you will. We humans can reason anything to sound like a good idea. If taking the life of people in this manner is abhorrent to you, then don’t. Or resign yourself to continuing as you have.”

  “What will happen to me if I continue?” he asks.

  “I think you know,” he says.

  They sit there in silence for awhile while each finishes their meal. James thinks about what Brother Willim had said and knows the truth of it. After they’ve finished their meal, he says to him, “Thank you.”

  Brother Willim gives him a smile and says, “That’s my job. I am a priest you know. Just think on what we talked about, follow your conscience, and you’ll feel better.”

  “I will,” says James.

  The rest of the night goes well for him as he rejoins the others. By the time he lays down on his blanket, he feel much better and has promised himself not to sink further toward the ‘dark side’.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  _________________________

  Out in the desert as they are, nothing disturbs them throughout the night. When the sun begins to lighten the world with the coming of dawn, they break camp and resume their trek to Cyst. Everyone can tell that James is feeling much better than he did the night before. Many credit it to the talk Brother Willim had with him before he went to bed.

  Shortly after getting underway, a cloud of dust can be seen rising from the direction of the road. James removes his mirror from his pouch and checks it out to find a force of several hundred riders moving fast on their way up to Morac.

  “Word of our presence is spreading,” says Potbelly when James tells the others.

  “Could be their heading that way has nothing at all to do with us,” counters Miko.

  “Possibly,” says James, “but I doubt that. We better be on our guard from here on out.” Throughout the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon, he uses his mirror to scan for probable hostiles in the area. A couple times he has them detour around patrols of soldiers.

  “Can you find Cyst?” Jiron asks some time after midday.

  Scrolling the mirror to follow the road, a city soon appears. “There is a city up ahead,” he announces. “It’s rather large but doesn’t have a protective wall surrounding it like others have.”

  “Is there a large compound on its eastern side?” asks Jiron. “Azku said that a slaver named Buka could be found in such a place.”

  Nodding, he says, “Yes there is.” He moves the image in for a closer look and adds, “It’s definitely a slaver compound. There’s an auction going on even as we speak.” A string of young women, girls really, are being auctioned off one at a time, just as Jiron’s sister Tersa had before they rescued her.

  “How far away is it?” he asks.

  “Not more than a couple of hours,” he replies. “There’s not much of a military presence there either.”

  “That’s good to hear,” remarks Scar.

  “So if things go wrong, again, we shouldn’t have more than the city watch to deal with,” Potbelly adds.

  “Well let’s try not to have things go bad this time,” James asserts. He makes one last scan for roving patrols then puts away his mirror. “It’s clear all the way there.”

  “Excellent,” states Jiron.

  For the next two hours or so, they ride quickly across the desert always keeping the road just out of sight. Then, from out of the horizon before them, the skyline of the city appears.

  “You know, it might be better if we didn’t all go in together,” Scar says. “They’ll be on the lookout for a large group, not just a couple of people.”

  “Good thinking,” says Jiron. Slowing down, he brings them to a halt and has them gather round. “James, Reilin and I will enter the city while the rest of you stay out here,” he says. From the way Scar is groaning, he was hoping to be one of the ones to go. “As you said Scar, three will be less noticeable than all of us together. I need Reilin, he’s the only one here who can talk to the people and find out where this guy is. James is along just in case.”

  “With any luck, we won’t be too long,” he continues. “Stay out here, if you have to move to avoid detection, then do so. With James’ mirror we’ll be able to find you should you not be here when we return.”

  “Good luck,” Aleya says. For once she’s not insisting to accompany him, much to his relief.

  He moves his horse over close to hers and leans over to give her a kiss. “What about the rest of us?” Scar asks with a grin. The others break out laughing. Ignoring him, he says to her, “Be back in a bit.”

  �
�I’ll hold you to that,” she says and returns a kiss of her own.

  “See,” says Potbelly to Scar, “if he gave you a kiss, you would have to give him one in return.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” jokes Scar and several of the others break out in laughter once again.

  “Come on,” Jiron says as he turns to head toward the city. “We’re wasting daylight.” When he sees that James and Reilin are both ready to go, he nudges his horse into motion and soon all three are moving at a fast trot toward the road. Behind them, the others begin making their way over to a stand of stunted trees that will afford them some protection from the sun while they wait for their return.

  To Reilin Jiron says, “Should you need to talk to someone, we are looking to purchase slaves.”

  Nodding, Reilin replies, “Okay. What for?”

  Shrugging, Jiron says, “I don’t know, how about for some brothel up north.”

  “That’ll work,” he says.

  They soon reach the road then turn to the southeast and to the city rising out of the desert. When they came out of the desert, the other travelers upon the road look at them quizzically but otherwise pay them no mind. Keeping a steady, but not too out of the ordinary pace, they make their way toward the city through the many wagons, riders and people on foot that clog the road.

  Before they reach the edge of the city proper, other buildings begin sprouting up. Inns, chandler shops, and other businesses catering to travelers line both sides of the road. They even pass by one such structure, a two story building badly in need of repair, that has several women outside attempting to entice those on the road to come inside. The way the women are dressed leaves no doubt as to what service the traveler will receive should they take them up on the offer.

  Before they completely pass through the outlying buildings and enter the city, the compound in question comes into view. A large wall surrounds it and a string of slaves are being led through the gate.

  “I think this is it,” states Jiron.

  Lowering his voice so as not to be overheard, Reilin asks, “How are we to get in there?”