Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two

by Brian S. Pratt

  “We shall remain vigilant, Master.”

  “Thank you.”

  “We wish to be helpful,” assured Hikai.

  “In the meantime,” James said to Miko, “let’s see about these suits. I’ve never worn one, but how hard could they be?”

  It took until the sun went down and everyone’s help, useful and otherwise, before they figured out how to accurately wear them. More than once James had mumbled how it would have been nice had an instruction book been included. But getting stuff from the surplus store isn’t like buying it off the shelf at the local outfitters.

  Standing in their dark camouflage suits with the bulky mask with two large eyes made them seem as if they were creatures right out of the Waste.

  “You look like a bug, Uncle,” Jira giggled.

  His laugh was muffled behind the mask. “I bet,” he replied. “I’m just glad we’re not doing this in the heat of summer. Doubt if we’d survive.”

  “I would have to agree,” Miko said, pulling off his mask.

  “Take plenty of water, Reverend Father,” Father Vickor advised.

  “That’s the plan,” James said. Removing his mask felt so good even after just a few short minutes. How will it be after three days or more? He tried not to think about it.

  “You two get a good night’s sleep,” Scar said. “We’ll take care of the watch.”

  “Indeed,” agreed Father Keller.

  In a low voice so as not to be overheard, Father Vickor leaned close to James and said, “We’ll keep an eye on your apprentices while you are gone.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  Removing the suits were a whole lot easier than getting them on. Once off, James had dinner then laid down in his bedroll near the fire. The others busied themselves with sharpening weapons, mending clothes, and many other sundry tasks required when on the road. He listened to their efforts, their conversations until sleep finally took him.

  It was just past midnight when a little head poked itself out of its bedroll and looked around. Kip and Father Keller had the watch; their silhouettes could be seen against the greater dark of the desert as they walked the perimeter. Scraps of their conversation drifted to her when their path brought them close.

  Jira would huddle down into her blankets, feigning sleep until they passed. Then when they had moved far enough away, she slipped from her bedroll. Moving with all the stealth she could muster, she threaded her way past her snoring father, stepped over her uncle’s apprentice, Azhan, and then tip-toed beyond the reach of the light of the campfire.

  She held still for a moment, afraid that she had been discovered. But when none woke and the two on watch failed to react, she breathed a sigh of relief.

  Moving into the night, she pulled out the sliver of dried apple saved from dinner. She wouldn’t go far, just far enough so her Little Brother would appear. Moonlight guided her feet and the camp fell farther in the distance. The campfire could still be seen so she knew she hadn’t gone too far. Figuring she was far enough away so as not to be detected, she sat cross-legged on the ground, set the piece of dried fruit on the ground, then began to hum softly.

  Her Little Brother never took long to come and she had little time to wait before movement in the darkness signaled he had come.

  “Come here, Little Brother,” she said softly. “I got a nice bit of apple for you tonight.” Reaching forward, she nudged the apple slice forward. “It’s good…” Then she resumed her humming.

  The shadow moved closer and she giggled in anticipation. But then her giggle died when the shadow grew in size. A scream rose in her throat as a monstrous shape rushed from the darkness. Before she could make a sound, four sharp needles struck her in the neck; their poison paralyzed her vocal chords and quickly spread to the rest of her body.

  Unbeknownst to those at the camp, Jira was dragged off into the dark.

  “Now, young Kip,” Father Killer continued, “Morcyth further tells us that knowledge is the true power in the world.”

  “That doesn’t make sense, Father.” Kip’s response was filled with skepticism. “How can knowledge overcome a man with a sword? Or an army?”

  “The true power of knowledge lies in its subtlety. If a man comes at you with a sword, and you know how to use a bow, the swordsman dies. If a man comes at you with a bow, and you know how to use a shield, the bowman dies. And think on this, if knowledge is utilized to its fullest potential, you would have found a way to prevent the man with the sword from coming after you in the first place.

  “Maybe he is coming after you for your money? If so perhaps you could find him suitable employment to meet his needs. Is he coming after you for a slight he perceived you gave him? Then an apology or other recompense could alter his desire to kill you. Never underestimate what a man with knowledge is capable of.”

  Still not entirely convinced, Kip said, “Like the Dark Mage?”

  Father Keller chuckled. “Yes, like the Dark Mage. He has a fount of knowledge we could only dream of sharing. Or so our Reverend Father has indicated.”

  “I don’t know…”

  The priest pats him on the shoulder. “Understanding will come. It’s often a dish best seasoned with age.”

  From out of the darkness an animalistic screech sounded. Kip and Father Keller spun around to face it.

  “What was that?” Kip asked.

  Father Keller shook his head. “Never heard the like before.”

  It sounded again.

  “Wake the others.” Taking Kip’s arm, he added, “Quietly.” As Kip returned to camp, Father Keller drew his sword.

  Father Vickor was the first to join him. Mace in hand, the one-time brawler stared out to the darkness.

  The screech sounded again.

  James then Scar came to stand with them. Jiron was next.

  “Jira?”

  Kip’s voice held an edge as it said her name.

  Jiron turned to find Kip standing with her empty bedroll in hand.

  “Jira!” her father shouted.

  Those still asleep snapped to full wakefulness at the sheer force of his cry.

  Turning to Father Keller, Jiron pulled his knife and made a step toward the priest. “Where is she?”

  Miko stepped between them just as another screech sounded further away in the distance.

  “We did not see her leave,” Father Keller said.

  “Jira!” More than one voice now split the quiet of the night. Between each series of shouts, they paused to listen; the desert was silent.

  “Spread out,” Scar said. “She couldn’t have gone far. Maybe just to answer nature’s call.”

  Visions of the mutilated creature’s carcass found several nights ago flashed through Jiron’s mind. When the screech sounded yet again, he bolted from the camp in the direction from which it came.

  Tinok took off after with Scar and Potbelly close behind.

  James grabbed Shorty’s arm. “Stay with the camp and see to the old woman.”

  The knife-thrower nodded.

  He then bolted out with his two apprentices hot on his heels. Miko joined him as did Father Vickor. Father Keller and Kip remained behind with Shorty.

  Jira remained fully conscious as the creature carried her through the night. She wanted to scream and have her father come rescue her, but the poison coursing through her system prevented all but the most rudimentary bodily functions. Lungs worked, heart pumped and she could see and smell.

  The creature was like nothing she had ever seen before. Large as a horse, part animal and part something else, it ran on four legs like a horse yet it possessed two rubbery appendages with which it gripped her to its underbelly. Instead of a horse’s head it had one more rounded with two pair of antennae like a bug. In her worst nightmares she could never have imagined something so frightening.

  From far off she heard another of those frightening screeches. They only added to her terror. Were they more of these creatures? Or something worse? She didn’t know. All she hoped
for was that either her father would arrive to save her, or the poison would wear off so she could get to her knives. They remained in their sheathes on her belt.

  Its long strides rapidly covered an incredible amount of ground. She wasn’t sure how long it carried her before its pace began to slow. In the dim moonlight filtering through the clouds above, she noticed darker shapes looming out of the night. As they drew closer, she quickly realized they were walls, or rather what were left of walls. A farmhouse most likely for when they passed through a section of crumbled stone, she saw the chimney. Then she saw the bones.

  A great pile of white bones lay piled against one wall. Its macabre collection stood taller than herself and was capped with a trio of gleaming skulls; human skulls. It brought her to the pile and released her so that she lay against its base.

  It then brought its insect-like head toward her and smelled her. Jira’s skin crawled when the antennae bent forward to touch her. There was a slight clicking noise coming from the creature. She couldn’t tell what made the sound for her face was not directed at the creature’s head and thus could not see it.

  She wanted to cry. Don’t eat me, she screamed, but the words failed to come. Father!

  From outside, a great cacophony of screeching sounded. From all around the sound grew and rose in intensity. There had to be more than one animal out there making that noise.

  The creature’s head rose and swiveled from side to side. Its clicking sound grew more pronounced.

  When something struck the outside of the wall with a resounding thud, the creature turned toward the sound.

  Screeching went on and on with barely a halt in between.

  Thud!

  Another strike against the outer wall of the dilapidated farmhouse.

  From the corner of her eye, Jira saw the creature move away and hurry toward the break in the wall. Its clicking sound grew and there was a guttural sound coming from deep within its throat.

  At the opening it paused and the screeching stilled for a brief moment. Then it charged forward and the screeching resumed with increased fervor.

  Jira strained to hear what was happening. First came sounds of the creature fighting, then the creature squealing, then silence. Had her head been turned a little bit further, what lay beyond the gap in the wall through which the creature had departed would have been visible. What would come through there? Assuredly not her father. He would not have screeched, he would have instead shouted damnation upon the creature.

  Movement from outside brought fear, it was coming toward her. The sound of steps, of a man walking grew louder and then she knew that someone had stepped through the broken wall.

  She cursed her immobility; longed to have her knives in hand.

  The man walked toward her and then knelt by her head. She couldn’t see him clearly for he was at the edge of her vision.

  “Ah, Jira,” the man said. “What trouble you have gotten yourself into.”

  He knelt by her head and she felt his hand upon her side. Then gentle pressure and she was rolled onto her back.

  “Fear not,” the man said. “The effects of the creature’s poison will not last long.”

  Reaching into his shirt, he pulled forth a small vial. Unstoppering it, he dribbled warm liquid between her lips. “This should help.”

  The man was in his early thirties, dark brown hair with eyes to match and dressed in rugged leather travel clothes. His warm smile put her at ease though she couldn’t say why.

  “It isn’t wise to be off on your own,” he said. “This place has many dangers and it is very easy for one to go astray and be lost.”

  A tingling sensation started on her tongue and worked its way to the back of her throat. From there it gradually spread throughout the rest of her body. Where the tingling subsided, the paralysis had vanished.

  “Who are you?” she croaked when she finally had use of her voice. “Do I know you?”

  He smiled at her again and shook his head. “I do not think you would know me, though I know all about you. Even met you once many years ago when you were but a babe.”

  She started asking another question when a rustling out of her field of vision forestalled her.

  “There is someone here who was most worried about you.”

  Thinking it to be her father, she turned to find a diminutive face staring back at her. Around the outer edge of its left eye was a dark patch in the shape of a crescent moon.

  Her Little Brother laid a hand on her cheek, then vanished.

  She turned back to the man.

  “It would seem there are a few things we need to discuss, little Jira.”

  “Who are you?”

  “My name, is Brother Willim.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Brother Willim sat cross-legged on the ground before her.

  “Eat this,” he said, producing a handful of nuts and dried berries wrapped in a large leaf. “It will help restore your energy.”

  She did feel weak, weak as a kitten in fact. With the first bite, she felt better.

  “Will… will that creature come back?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  Her next question was quelled when he raised his hand and gave her a look indicating she should be quiet.

  “Now we haven’t much time, and unless you want your father to learn of your efforts regarding the Little Brothers you will listen and take heed.”

  Her eyes grew large at the thought of her father discovering her nocturnal activities. She nodded most vehemently.

  “You have a special gift, Jira. The earth spirits do not appear to just anyone. In fact, it is rare in the extreme for them to appear to anyone outside our order.”

  She nodded, put another nut between her teeth, bit, and listened.

  “But with this comes responsibility; responsibility not only to them, but to yourself.” His face turned grave as he paused a moment to see if his words were sinking in. When she nodded, he continued.

  “Going off in the dark, alone, in a place that is dangerous is simply foolhardy. Twice now you have placed yourself in jeopardy, and twice your Little Brother has come to your rescue. This places them in danger… Do you understand?”

  “Yes. I…I’m sorry.”

  “I know you are, Jira. That is why I am here. When the creature took you, the Little Brothers sought me out.” He nodded toward the opening through which he had entered the old farmhouse. “They and I took care of it. It needed destroying in any event, being an unnatural mutation of nature.

  “Had I not been with them, they more than likely would have lost one or two in the battle.” He paused a moment to let that sink in before adding, “As they did last time.”

  Her eyes widened. “Last time?” she asked confusedly.

  Brother Willim nodded. “Several nights back. You went away from your camp and sought the Little Brothers. A creature roamed the wilderness and the Little Brothers intercepted it before it could attack. You returned to your bedroll none the wiser. But because they protected you, two earth spirits are no longer in this world.”

  “I didn’t know,” she cried. Tears welled up at the thought that two Little Brothers had perished because of her.

  “Now you do. So do not let it happen again.”

  She nodded, then said, “But how can I see them then? If I can’t go off by myself, and they won’t come into the camp…”

  His face hardened. “That is selfish, Jira. Maybe you cannot see them as often as you wish, but such is the burden we whom they befriend must undertake. Do you want to be responsible for more of them dying?”

  She shook her head vehemently.

  “Then be patient. Know that your Little Brother, the one with the moon-shaped crescent is always nearby though you may not see him.” He paused a moment then added, “I believe he has bonded to you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It is hard to explain. Suffice it to say, he thinks of you as his little girl.”

  Jira smiled.<
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  Brother Willim cocked his head to the side and got a faraway look for a moment. “Your father is almost here, Jira.”

  She grew apprehensive.

  “I do not believe he will be too upset with you.”

  “I hope not,” she replied.

  “But I would advise you to tell him what you have been doing.”

  Fear leapt into her eyes.

  He gave her a reassuring smile. “Honesty is never a bad thing.” She looked skeptical. “Trust me, and have faith in your father. He is a good man.”

  She nodded.

  Getting to his feet, Brother Willim held out a hand for her to take. “Come, Jira.”

  Her grip on his hand was a bit more than firm. Nervousness at what might happen when her father arrived caused her to drag her feet. Once at the gap in the wall she saw the grisly remains of the creature that had taken her.

  Vines twined tightly around a creature that had been all but shredded. Blood was everywhere.

  Brother Willim walked her past the grisly scene and as he came to the corner of the broken wall, reached into his shirt and produced a handful of seeds. Summoning the power of Asran, a green glow enveloped his hand; then with a prayer, tossed them to the base of the wall.

  Where they landed, vines sprung from the ground.

  Jira gasped in delight for the vines gave off a greenish light.

  “Vines of Brilliant Light, some call them.”

  Traveling up the wall, they spread out and soon had most of it covered in a glowing latticework. Leaves sprung to life and half a dozen or so buds grew then opened. Each of the flowering buds produced light equivalent to a torch. Combined with the vines, the whole area was bathed in brilliant light.

  “Pretty.”

  Brother Willim patted her on the head and chuckled. “Yes they are. I do love them though I haven’t had much occasion to use them.”

  “Jiron!”

  Scar pointed off to the growing light in the distance.

  “Let’s go.”

  Moving at a run, they raced across the desert to the unnatural glowing light in the distance. It didn’t take long before they saw two figures standing bathed in the illumination. “Jira,” Jiron breathed as he recognized the smaller of the two. He drew his knives and advanced.