Shades of the past ms-6

by Brian S. Pratt

  Sure enough, when they dove under the water and swam beneath the building, they found an open section. They soon had the broach in hand and had thoroughly taught the hoodlum a lesson to within an inch of his life.

  Returning to the present, Jiron looks at the way the water goes to the edge of the building and how the stone wall runs along the water a good fifteen feet. Seeing as how James’ footprints end at the water’s edge there, he takes the orb in hand and wades into the water to see if he could have gone under the wall.

  Seven feet out, the water is now up to his waist. Two more steps and the ground beneath him comes to a drop. Thinking this might be the place, he dives under the water. Feeling with his free hand, he finds where the wall ends and begins working his way under the building. When his hand encounters the end of the stone above, he kicks up and breaks through the surface.

  Holding the orb high, he sees where the stone is wet from where James had left the water. Tossing the orb onto the floor of the room, he pulls himself out of the water. Feeling mighty pleased with himself, he picks up the orb and follows James’ wet footprints to the door leading from the room.

  Peering through the open door, he finds a hallway extending directly away from the door. James’ footprints are clearly visible indicating he had passed this way. Moving through the doorway, he follows the footprints down the hallway.

  The footprints continue until they come to an open door on the left. It looks like James paused here for some time before finally entering the room. Jiron looks around the door and finds another empty room with a door on the far side of the room and another on the right. The one on the right is open.

  Just before he passes through, he hears a groaning coming from further down the hallway. Glancing into the darkness, he holds up the light but it doesn’t reveal anything. “James?” he hollers as he quickly moves down the hallway toward the source of the sound. Again the groaning comes from further down the hallway.

  Quickening his speed, he runs toward the sound. A light begins to be seen ahead and he’s soon to realize it’s coming from behind a door at the end of the hallway. It’s slightly ajar and the groaning is coming from whatever lies beyond.

  Putting the orb inside his shirt, Jiron slowly moves to the opening and peers around the door. On the other side is a room right out of some torturer’s dream. A man is using a hot iron on a form lying bound upon one of the tables within. Another table sits closer to the door and Jiron sees what looks to be a dead body lying upon it.

  The man laughs as he again presses the hot glowing metal to the man’s side. When the hot iron hits flesh, the man upon the table groans as smoke rises from his skin. Wracked with pain, the man on the table thrashes about. In his thrashing, the man turns his face toward the door where Jiron is standing.

  Jiron gasps in startlement as he recognizes the form upon the table. Without thought, he throws open the door and rushes into the room. The man on the table cries out, “Jiron!” before passing out.

  Knives in hand, Jiron closes on the torturer and in two lightning quick passes leaves him dead on the ground. “Tinok!” he cries as he turns to his lifelong friend. Seeing him lying there unconscious, he looks at what’s left of his friend. One hand is missing three fingers, scars and burns cover most of his body. Emaciated and thin, he looks like he hasn’t eaten anything for days.

  Untying him from the table, he picks him up in his arms not caring that Tinok’s blood soaks into the front of his shirt. Surprised at how thin he is, he carries him over to where a bucket of water sits on a small table. Propping him against the wall, he pats his face to wake him.

  Tinok stirs groggily, not entirely aware of his surroundings. Jiron ladles out some of the water and puts it to his lips. The feel of the water trickling into his mouth brings him closer to wakefulness and he begins to swallow. After he drinks two full ladlefuls of water, Jiron puts it back in the bucket.

  “Glad to see you,” Tinok says.

  Jiron can barely contain the emotions running through him. Alternating between rage and sorrow, he replies, “So am I. What happened to you?”

  “After James made me leave, I got captured by the Empire…” he begins.

  “Wait a minute,” Jiron says, interrupting him. “Did you say that James made you leave?”

  Nodding his head, Tinok says, “That’s right. That night after Cassie died, he came to me and told me to leave.”

  “Why in god’s name?” he asks incredulously. Such a thought had never even crossed his mind.

  “He didn’t give me a reason,” says Tinok weakly. “Told me to get out or he would kill us both. Said he needed you but that I was a liability.”

  All this time, he had thought Tinok left because of his grief over the loss of his beloved Cassie. The rage he felt at the sight of Tinok lying upon the table intensifies tenfold.

  Why?! James had always treated him so fairly and nice. All the while he sent away his best friend only to be tortured and maimed. He looks at the hand missing three fingers. Never again will it hold a knife.

  “Jiron,” breathes Tinok weakly. “I’m glad you found me. I want to go home.”

  “You will my friend,” he assures him. “You will.”

  Then Tinok’s head lolls to his chest and he begins to topple over. “Tinok!” cries out Jiron. Catching his friend, he knows the truth but doesn’t want to face it. Tinok is dead.

  “ NO!”

  With rage nearly consuming him, all he can think of is to find James and make him pay for the death of his friend. Getting to his feet, he casts one last glance to Tinok then draws one of his knives as he leaves the room of pain behind. Running down the hallway, he returns to the doorway where James’ footprints pass through.

  Racing through the door, he pauses as he takes in the jumbled mess of footprints that crisscross the empty room. Finally realizing they exit through the open door, he runs over to it and discovers the hallway leading away on the other side.

  Running down the hallway, he finds a wet spot where it looks like James had lain at one time. The footprints grow more distinct as they lead further down the hallway.

  James sent me away.

  The words of Tinok fuel the rage already burning within him. The sight of his friend lying broken and wasted on the table continues to run through his mind.

  Betrayer! Murderer! His vision becomes tinged with red as his rage mounts to even further heights.

  The footprints lead him to another open door further down the hallway. Swinging it wide, he quickly scans the room and sees his quarry on the far side approaching another door.

  With knife in hand, he races across the room as silently as a cat. He must strike first before the betrayer has a chance to use his magic. Ten feet from the murderer of his friend, his prey turns and sees him attacking. A wave of force hits him and sends him flying twenty feet backward where he lands on his back.

  “Traitor!” James yells as he removes a slug from his belt.

  “Murderer!” screams Jiron. Getting back to his feet he draws his other knife. With both knives in hand, he charges forward. He sees James’ eyes flick toward the ground just in front of him and dives to the side just as…

  Crumph!

  …the floor explodes upward where he would have been.

  Rolling to a stop, he catches James’ arm movement as he cocks back his arm to launch his slug. Jumping to the right he hears the slug strike the wall behind him.

  A rumble shakes the floor as the section surrounding the area James’ magic exploded falls into the room below. Staggering, Jiron again hurtles himself forward. “I’ll kill you for what you did to Tinok!” he yells as he closes fast.

  Crumph!

  The floor under him explodes outwards. Thrown through the air, he lands within several feet of James. Picking up a loose stone deposited on the floor by one of the blasts, he throws it and connects with the side of James’ head.

  Knocked backward, James staggers in a daze as Jiron closes fast. Unable to concentrate
sufficiently to use his magic, he tries to flee. Tripping over the loose rubble the blasts strew across the floor, he falls to his knees. Then from behind, one of Jiron’s knives catches him across the back, opening up a six inch long cut. He dodges to the left and immediately turns onto his back and tries to scoot away.

  “Oh no you don’t,” Jiron says as he follows, “you’ll not get away that easily.” Grabbing his foot, Jiron stops him and says, “I’m going to do to you what you did to Tinok.”

  James tries to get away but Jiron grabs his hand and says, “First, I’ll start with the fingers.” He puts a knee on James’ chest to prevent him from getting away.

  “I didn’t do anything to Tinok!” he cries out. “It was you who betrayed me! Traitor!” Taking a large piece of rubble, he tries to strike Jiron in the side of the head. Jiron sees the blow coming and lashes out with his hand. The blow causes the stone to fly out of James’ hand.

  “Lies!” he screams. “Nothing but lies have I had from you, one I called friend.” Pulling James forefinger to an exposed position, he brings his knife to it. “This is for Tinok!”

  Crack!

  The floor beneath them, weakened by the blasts, is no longer able to support their weight. With a loud crack, it gives way.

  Jiron loses his grip on James as they both plummet to the floor below. They fall for what seems like a long ways before they land on the floor of the room below. Hitting hard, the breath is knocked out of Jiron. James is dazed and the orb that he carries falls from his hand and rolls across the floor.

  It takes a minute before they are able to move again, James is the first to get to his feet. He tries to summon the magic but due to the blow to his head, is unable to concentrate sufficiently. Moving away from where Jiron is working to get back to his feet, he hurries around a raised dais sitting in the middle of the room, to the door on the far side.

  A noise behind him causes him to glance back and sees that Jiron is almost upon him. He turns to face him as the knife falls and grabs the descending arm with both hands.

  “Now, let’s finish this!” Jiron says as he brings his other knife in position to strike

  Crack!

  From above, another section of the ceiling directly above them gives way and falls. Still locked together, they both jump to the right to avoid the falling stone and land on the dais. A flash of light and then they’re plunged into darkness.

  “Milord?”

  Roused from his slumber, Kerith-Ayxt finds his aide Aezyl standing at his tent flap. “Yes?” he asks. Sitting up on the edge of his cot, he motions for his aide to enter.

  Aezyl enters the dark tent as a candle flares to light on the lone small table. Coming to stand before his lord he says, “It’s over.”

  “They’re dead then?” he asks.

  “It would appear so,” his aide informs him. “We detected magic being used and then nothing. When we looked for them all we found was darkness.”

  “Excellent,” he says. “Continue keeping an eye on their last known position just in case.”

  “By the way milord,” Aezyl says as he hands the High Lord Magus a courier pouch. “This arrived an hour ago,” he explains. “When the messenger arrived at the School, they sent him up here.”

  Taking the pouch he sees the seal of the Emperor emblazoned on the side. Sighing, he says to his aide, “Thank you. Keep me informed if there is any indication they are still alive.”

  “Yes, sir,” he says and then turns to leave the tent.

  He sets the pouch on his cot as gets up to pour himself a glass of wine. Not the recommended drink for those who work with magic, but as he’s the High Lord Magus, no one will gainsay him about it.

  After filling his glass with wine, he replaces the wine bottle in the travel pack. Picking up the courier pouch he moves over to the table where the candle burns. He takes his seat and places his glass of wine on the table. Opening the pouch, he pulls out a single letter.

  It bears the seal of Lord Cytok and reads as follows:

  Lord Magus,

  You are to take as many mages as are able and set out forthwith to intercept the invading army before it leaves Empire controlled territory. Speed is of the essence. Leave no survivors.

  Lord Cytok

  Kerith-Ayxt puts the letter down and takes a moment to savor the last of his wine before leaving his tent. Outside he finds his aide Aezyl standing by the fire with a mage of the First Circle.

  “…Baerustin and other places like it are the reason the School was founded in the first place,” Aezyl says to the First. “When you achieve the Second Circle you will learn in more detail the events that turned this once thriving city into what you see today.”

  “You mean a mage destroyed Baerustin?” the First asks.

  “In a way yes,” replies Aezyl. “An experiment gone wrong in a time when mages worked blind, trying to discover ever more powerful spells and enchantments. Many of the rules and laws that you have already been taught were just speculations at the time. Magic was unleashed here, magic of a most fearsome sort. Before the citizens understood the danger they were in, many were killed.”

  Kerith-Ayxt listens as his aide relates the tale of Baerustin to the First.

  “Brother beset brother, father turned on sons,” he continues. “None now recall just what the mage who unleashed this upon Baerustin was attempting to accomplish. But the magic is still active, even after a millennium.” He turns to gaze directly in the First’s eyes and says, “It turns you mad if you are exposed to it for any length of time.”

  “Then, we are to go mad?” he asks in apprehension.

  Shaking his head Aezyl says, “No. Here above the sand we are safe.”

  Kerith-Ayxt clears his throat.

  Aezyl turns and sees his lord standing there. “Yes milord?” he asks. The First bows to him and then moves away.

  “We are moving north at first light,” the High Lord Magus states. “The Emperor wishes us to deal with the invading army before it can reach friendly territory.”

  “Then we are to destroy it milord?” he asks.

  Nodding, Kerith-Ayxt replies, “Yes. To the last man.”

  Chapter Twenty Five

  The sudden plunge into darkness disorients Jiron just enough for James to wriggle free. “Come back here murderer!” he hears Jiron saying not too far from him.

  “I didn’t murder anyone,” replies James as he gets off the dais and moves quickly around it. He can hear Jiron’s breathing as he follows.

  The room has grown cold, very cold. He tries to formulate a spell to use against Jiron but he simply can’t concentrate well enough. The blow to his head still has him unable to summon the magic. The ring! Reaching into his pouch, he searches for the ring all the while continuing to back away from Jiron. He steps lightly so as not to announce his exact location. His fingers search the pouch but fail to find the ring.

  “Tinok told me of how you sent him away the night Cassie died,” he says.

  Tinok? Tinok was here too? A feeling that something’s definitely not right comes over him. Dave and Tinok being here at the same time? Unlikely. His mind begins to throw off the anger and rage as cool logic asserts itself.

  Vague outlines begin to appear as his eyes adjust to the darkness. “Jiron,” he says. “When did you talk to Tinok?”

  “After you fell in the water,” he replies. “I followed you and found him.”

  “You followed me?” he asks. Suddenly, his orb springs to life in the palm of his hand. It’s a strain to hold even that much magic, his head is throbbing so badly. Seeing the knife rise to strike, he says, “Wait!”

  The knife pauses. “Why should I, murderer?” Jiron asks.

  “How did you get past the monster in the water?” he asks.

  “There was no monster,” he says. “I did find where the Empire was holding Tinok. He was mutilated!” His eyes still show the intensity of emotion at what was done to his friend.

  James sees the knife begin to move and holl
ers as fast as he can, “If the Empire controlled this area, then why didn’t the mages follow?” He closes his eyes and braces for the knife to strike. When the attack doesn’t come, he opens his eyes to see the knife but inches from his throat. Jiron stares at him with a thoughtful look on his face. He can see the rage beginning to melt away.

  Then it all clicks together. The smell of his grandmother’s cinnamon rolls; Jiron seeing the headless torso; finding a room right out of one of his campaigns. “It wasn’t real,” he says to him. “None of it was.”

  “But…” he stammers and then looks down at the front of his shirt. The blood that had stained it from when he held Tinok is no longer there. “I held him in my arms,” he says as the hand holding the knife drops back to his side.

  “I know,” James says laying a hand on his shoulder. “I found Dave. He told me you were an agent of the Empire and had handed him over to them at Ironhold.”

  Jiron’s head comes up. “I did no such thing,” he asserts.

  “Just as I did not send Tinok away,” he states with conviction.

  “Then what happened?” he asks.

  “I don’t know,” he admits. “Maybe this place is cursed in some way, turns people against each other.”

  Jiron sheathes his knife. “I’m sorry,” he says. The rage which so threatened to consume him has now completely left him.

  “So am I,” replies James with a sad grin. “What do you say we get out of here before anything else happens?”

  “Yeah,” agrees Jiron. “Let’s get out of here.”

  The light from the orb reveals that they are no longer in the room they landed in when they fell through the floor. This one is much smaller. A raised dais sits prominently in the center of the room, the room itself is only two feet wider than the dais. It’s what’s depicted upon the dais that concerns James.

  “Jiron look,” he says as he draws Jiron’s attention to the symbol of three dots forming a triangle with lines running between them.

  “That’s not good,” he says. “But why would they have a temple here in a place that’s cursed?”