Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two

by Brian S. Pratt

  A knock forestalled any further conversation. Kip hopped up and rushed over. Opening the door a crack, he peered through then stepped aside to allow Father Vickor to enter.

  When James saw him, he couldn’t help but wonder if any of Miko’s priests wore raiment fitting their station. He had known Father Vickor since his wedding before the Temple had been restored. Scary is what comes to mind when one looks at the one time street brawler. Dressed in worn, brown leathers with a mace swinging at his hip, the priest gave off the presence of one ready to snatch the head off of anyone who crossed him. Miko had seen something in him, and thus far, that trust had not proven in error.

  Coming to a stop six paces within the room, Father Vickor said, “Reverend Father, Lord Pytherian wishes an audience.”

  James cast Miko a worried glance. Lord Pytherian was a prominent figure in Madoc politics. Highest ranking general, he held the charge for maintaining Madoc’s military and security. He had been instrumental in holding the Alliance together during the Madoc/Empire war five years ago.

  “Is he at the Temple?”

  Father Vickor shook his head. “He has requested for you to meet with him at the Keep.”

  Silent for several seconds, Miko nodded. “Tell his man that I will attend him shortly.”

  Nodding, Father Vickor turned on his heels and left the room. Kip closed the door and returned to his place at the table.

  “Do you think he knows?”

  Miko turned to James. “We shall see.” After finishing what remained upon his plate, Miko grabbed two tarts and came to his feet. Kip dashed to open the door for his spiritual superior.

  One tart was gone before he reached the door, and the other was in the process of vanishing as he passed through.

  James watched his friend leave, hoping the summons did not foreshadow forthcoming complications.

  Miko made his way through the Temple. Along with Father Vickor, he picked up five of the more martially inclined Brothers to accompany him. The group passed from the Temple and made its way through the streets toward the towering Keep in the distance.

  They looked nothing like holy men, more like a bunch of ne’er-do-wells searching for trouble. Upon reaching the main gate in the curtain wall surrounding the Keep, the guard on duty recognized Miko, snapped to attention, and allowed them to pass without a word. Over the years, he had been a frequent visitor of Lord Pytherian’s and most of the guard knew him by sight.

  Beyond the gate stretched the Keep’s courtyard. A few people were about as the hour was not that late; soldiers, civilians, and several wagons belonging to merchants returning from dropping off supplies.

  Miko spied a man emerge from the keep and take position at the top of the steps. Even in the dim light of evening he could readily tell it to be Henri, aide-de-camp to Lord Pytherian, a good soldier and steadfast in his loyalty lord and country. He saw them approach and descended the steps.

  “His Lordship appreciates your coming so quickly, Reverend Father.”

  Miko nodded. “What is going on?”

  Henri turned back toward the Keep. “It would be best if you heard it from His Lordship.”

  They proceeded across the remainder of the courtyard and entered the Keep. Henri led them to one of the smaller meeting rooms, those that Lord Pytherian preferred during more informal gatherings.

  Coming to a stop before the door, Henri opened it and stood back to allow Miko first entry. Lord Pytherian was already there.

  “Miko!” he said, coming to his feet.

  Miko relaxed, for so informal a greeting had to mean less than dire news awaited. He nodded toward Madoc’s most powerful general, “My lord.”

  The general gestured to the chair across from his own. “Please, have a seat.”

  Sitting, Miko asked, “How may the Temple be of service?”

  Father Vickor and the other five priests positioned themselves behind their superior.

  Lord Pytherian offered his guest a glass of wine, but was declined. He sat.

  “Let me get straight to the heart of it. Word has reached the Patriarchal Council that The Dark Mage was attacked, his island destroyed, and he himself killed.” He paused to see what effect his words were having, but his guests’ faces told him little. “It is the belief among the Council that the attack was perpetrated by the Empire in prelude to another war.”

  Miko digested that in quiet contemplation. “I heard about the incident at James’ island, and as far as I can gather the attack did happen. I believe, however, the rumors concerning his death may be a bit premature. It would take quite a sizeable force to overcome him, a force the Empire in its current fractured and squabbling state would be unable to field.”

  Lord Pytherian nodded. “That was my belief as well. However, an event transpired earlier today that casts doubt upon that assumption. Four men were found slaughtered in the Merchant’s Quarter. Three were obviously of Empire stock while the fourth was one of ours, a man well known for his involvement in the seedier side of life.”

  “I fail to see how the two events are related.” Miko could see there was more of the story yet to be told.

  “One of the men was a priest of Dmon-Li, or at the very least, an agent. He bore their mark.” The mark to which he referred was that of three dots forming the points of a triangle with lines running between them yet not touching. Miko and James had plenty of experience with men bearing such, usually bad ones.

  “That does bode ill.”

  “And, they had been killed with knives.”

  “Knives?”

  Lord Pytherian nodded. “Knives very similar to what The Dark Mage’s friend, Jiron, utilizes.” He searched Miko’s eyes, but again discovered little.

  “Jiron departed with his family for the island weeks ago to take part in James’ son’s birthday celebration. He would not have had time to return and kill these men.”

  “You are certain of this?”

  “Quite. It is also worthy to note that had these men’s identities been uncovered, any number of citizens would not have hesitated in taking their lives. Many lost loved ones and had lives torn asunder during the enemy’s occupation.”

  “We have not discounted such a possibility, merely trying to ascertain the potential threat behind the men’s presence within our city.”

  Miko could tell there was more to the attack that was being left unsaid, what exactly that may be remained elusive. “Was there anything else?”

  Lord Pytherian nodded. “You haven’t heard from James, have you? If there would be one person to whom he would turn in a time of trouble, it would be you.”

  “He has not contacted me for help, or in any way made his situation known.” Which was true, Miko had been the one to initiate contact when he found them floundering in the ether between worlds.

  “Will you let me know the instant you hear from him?”

  “As soon as he contacts me, you will be notified.” That seemed to placate the general. “And, should further information come to light about the four men killed, I will pass it on.”

  “I would appreciate that,” he replied, then came to his feet signaling the meeting to be at an end.

  Miko rose, his priests followed suit.

  “I and the Council appreciate your time, Reverend Father. Thank you again for coming.

  “It was my pleasure, my lord.”

  Coming around the desk, the general crossed to the door and knocked. From the other side, Henri opened the door and stood at attention as the visitors departed.

  “Have a good evening, Reverend Father.”

  “And you as well, General.”

  Henri escorted them back to the courtyard outside and left them at the gate.

  Once he and his priests had passed beyond sight of the curtain wall, Father Vickor asked, “What do you make of that?”

  “I fear Tinok’s failure to appear and the four men’s death may be related.”

  “That would make sense. If agents for those responsible for the atta
ck on The Dark Mage’s island had been following him, he would assuredly have killed them had he discovered them.”

  Miko nodded. “Did you hear how Lord Pytherian related the manner of their deaths? He did not say they were killed, but that they had been slaughtered.” He glanced to his senior-most priest. “That sounds like how Tinok would leave them.”

  “Indeed.”

  Back at the Temple, Miko related what he had learned to Jiron and James. Fathers Vickor and Keller were there as well. When he completed his narrative, he glanced to Jiron. “Do you think it was Tinok?”

  “If he discovered them trailing him, absolutely. I doubt if he would even hesitate.”

  “Then we need to proceed on the assumption that those who attacked my island have agents within the city. We may need to depart before you fully recover.”

  “Fine by me. No offense Miko, your hospitality has been great. But a few more days in this room and I would have gone crazy.”

  “Me too,” piped up Jira. “I want to see Mother.”

  “As do I,” her father agreed.

  James glanced to Miko. “How soon can you leave?”

  “Today if we must, but that would arouse suspicion. Three would be better. That would allow time to adequately prepare a cover story about visiting Black Hawk in the hopes of learning more of ‘The Dark Mage’s circumstance.’ Also, Father Tullin can root around the Pits for more information on Tinok.” He cast a questioning glance to Father Keller.

  “He has yet to return.”

  “Trouble?” James asked.

  “No. Father Tullin is often late in returning during his sojourns to minister to the fighters. He heals their more serious wounds, listens to their problems, and at times drinks them under the table at the Bent Blade. Claims he learns the most when the ale flows freest.”

  “Okay. Three days it is. We head to Hawk’s Nest and discover what Illan knows, then it’s straight through the heart of the Empire to its southern shore where we’ll take ship to Corillian.”

  “Planning any side trips?” Jiron asked.

  James shrugged. “One never knows.”

  “I think we should pay Lord Cytok a visit. He has to know something.”

  “Our main goal is to get through to our families, preferably without alerting anyone to our presence. After we’re reunited, then we’ll see about Lord Cytok.” James indicated Jira with a silent nod of his head.

  Jiron understood and completely agreed. As long as she was with them, they couldn’t take unnecessary risks.

  “Okay then.” Coming to his feet, Miko gestured for Fathers Vickor and Keller to rise as well. “If we are to leave in three days, there are things needing to be done. I will leave you to your rest.”

  “Let us know if you hear anything about Tinok,” James said.

  “I shall.”

  After he left, Miko set the two Fathers to make preparations for travel, then went in search of Father Tullin. He hadn’t been surprised to learn that the priest had yet to return. The next hour was spent in moving through the halls of the Temple, checking different aspects of Temple life to ensure all remained running as it should.

  His first stop was the kitchen and storehouse. Twice daily they fed the needy a hot meal which at first had attracted few takers. Now though, it wasn’t unusual to have a hundred or more street kids, prostitutes, thugs, and every other sort of depraved and destitute that humanity had to offer.

  Of those that came, Brothers would pass among them, ministering to those in need, listening to others, and above all, keeping track of those that tended to come frequently. Those who grew to become regulars might one day prove to be a boon in disguise; either as future Novices, or informants. They’ve received many “tips” about goings on in the city from bellies that had been filled out of sheer generosity. Strange thing about people, even if nothing is asked in return, most feel they owe a debt to those that give. It weighs on their conscious until an act is performed that brings the scales into balance once more. Sometimes, Miko wondered if the hand of Morcyth tipped the scales more in those with the ability and temperament to help.

  Brother Horka oversaw the kitchen and everything to do with feeding the poor. Miko could always count on him to have a couple tarts on hand no matter the hour in the event a certain high ranking priest desired them. Three of the red-berry filled ones were left. Miko scooped up two.

  At this hour, the kitchen and dining hall were busy and filled with priests of every station. Novices, Acolytes, Brothers and Fathers sat about the tables busily consuming the fare provided. Greetings flowed toward him as he made his way through the crowded hall. A word here and a nod there allowed him to continue through to the kitchen area.

  Within, the place was a bustle of activity. Of the many lessons learned from James, cleanliness was perhaps the one that had taken root the most. “Keep it clean, and sickness stays away.” That statement had proven true. Scrubbing everything with hot water and soap after every meal had kept his people healthy with little more than the occasional stomach flu cropping up now and again.

  He caught sight of Brother Horka berating a Novice who had apparently failed to remove all foodstuffs from what the lad claimed to be a pot just cleaned. Keeping out of the Novice’s line of sight, he drew the Brother’s attention and nodded to the back room. Pausing in his tirade only long enough to give acknowledgment, the Brother quickly resumed haranguing the poor lad.

  The room in which Miko waited was but one of three storerooms allocated to the kitchen. This one held barrels of dry goods as well as crates of vegetables. Miko parked himself upon one containing apples, then proceeded to finish off the last of the tart. He didn’t have long to wait before his priest entered.

  Once the door closed, he said, “We leave in three days.”

  “Three days, Reverend Father?”

  Miko nodded. “Until then, I need you to see what you can find out about four bodies found in the Merchant’s Quarter earlier today. One bore the mark of Dmon-Li.”

  Brother Horka’s eyes widened at the name of the dark god. “He is stirring again?” Once a priest assumed the title “Brother,” they were informed about certain past events, especially those detailing how the priesthood of Dmon-Li had wiped out their predecessors.

  “Perhaps, though it may have been someone who once worked for them but does so no longer.”

  “I’ll see what I can dig up.”

  “Good. Also, let it slip that I plan to visit Black Hawk for a few days. Do not mention when I plan to leave, just that I am.”

  Brother Horka nodded. “Do you believe these dead men may have something to do with our…guests?”

  “Until we know otherwise, assume that they do.”

  “Very well.”

  Hopping off the crate, Miko patted his priest on the shoulder. “With Morcyth’s aid, we will figure this out.”

  “May He guide us.”

  After leaving the storeroom, Miko spoke in turn with half a dozen subordinates about matters of little importance as he wended his way back through the dining hall. He picked up the last of the tarts and enjoyed it on his way to his rooms. Having done all he could this night, he spent the rest of the evening in quiet contemplation of the day’s events and what the future may hold.

  Later that night, when only the light of a lone candle held back the shadows, Jira raised her head and looked to the others with whom she shared the room. Her father and uncle were fast asleep, and over in his cot, Kip’s form remained still.

  From beneath her pillow, she brought forth two small pieces of vegetables taken from this evening’s repast. Though not much, she hoped the carrot and tuber could be used to entice an earth spirit to show itself.

  Hopping off her cot, her bare feet landed upon the cold stone causing a shiver to course through her. With vegetables in hand, she moved to the end of her cot and knelt upon the floor. Her clothes did little to shield her knees from the coldness of the stone and another shiver shook her little frame.

 
Upon the stone before her, she laid the vegetables a hand-span apart. “Little Brothers…,” she whispered, then cast a furtive look toward the sleeping forms. Seeing that they remained undisturbed, she tried again.

  “Little Brothers, I have something for you.”

  Kneeling at the foot of her cot, she waited. Harkening back to when her uncle had done this, she remembered he had them sing to entice the earth spirits into appearing. Soon, her voice, soft and quiet, began singing the same lullaby they had sung on her uncle’s home world.

  Minutes ticked by and no earth spirit deigned to make an appearance. When her knees grew sore and her teeth set to chattering, she decided to give up and return to bed. Of course, insistent yawning had added its voice to the chorus urging her back to the welcoming warmth of her covers.

  She hopped back in bed and snuggled in deeply. “You can have the food, Little Brothers,” she whispered as consciousness gradually drifted away. In the morning, the carrot and tuber were gone.

  Chapter Four

  Father Tullin arrived late the following morning looking the worse for wear. He entered Miko’s study and made proper obeisance, though his bow was slightly off kilter.

  “Wild night?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, it was.”

  Miko motioned for his man to sit and be comfortable. “You really go all out for us, don’t you?”

  Cracking a grin, Father Tullin nodded. “Whatever is required.”

  From a pitcher, Miko poured a glass of water and scooted it across the table. “Here.”

  “Thank you.” He drank the liquid and asked for another.

  “Did you speak with Tinok?”

  After draining the second glassful, he shook his head. “He never showed. Potbelly was quite mad. Seems he had arranged a match with an out of town favorite. Tinok not showing cost him a hundred gold, or so he claims.”

  Miko cast his priest a questioning look as he held up the pitcher.

  Father Tullin shook his head. “Any more and it’s going to come back up.” He worked to get his stomach under control before continuing. “They did as you suggested and their false Dark Mage made an appearance. It appeared to work. By the end of the second match, most rumors had been silenced.”