“So who sent this dream to me?” asks Miko.
“We don’t know,” replies Brother Willim. “All we do know is that it is more than just a dream and thus should not be dismissed lightly.”
James sits there in thought for a moment then says, “I would guess the temple you saw, the one emitting light represents Morcyth. Either a specific temple or the religion in general.”
“That would make sense,” agrees Brother Willim. “Seeing as how closely you are tied to Morcyth.”
“Then the darkness…?” he asks.
“Is something threatening its very existence I would think,” Brother Willim says. “Considering the way you reacted.”
James can see the worry on his friends face. “We’re not going to figure this out tonight,” he says. “Let’s all try to get some sleep. Maybe a night’s sleep will help.”
“Good idea,” suggest Brother Willim.
Lying down, Miko says to James, “What if it comes again?”
“Brother Willim and I will be right here if it does,” he replies. “Don’t worry about it.”
Chuckling, Miko says, “Yeah, right.” Closing his eyes, he tries to return to sleep.
James glances to Brother Willim who only shrugs. They each return to their blankets and think on what Miko had told them. If James had trouble falling asleep before, it’s nothing like now. Sometime later in the night, he does manage to sink into sleep.
Zyrn stands under the stars at the edge of his village, gazing to the west. Within his village of Abi Salim, there is much celebration. The loot that had been acquired two days ago will go a long way in seeing them through the coming years. Already, plans are being made to send the wagons to the south to sell the weapons and armor at the markets of the larger towns.
But for some, there is no celebration. When they had returned to Abi Salim that first day, a dozen of the younger men had decided to return and collect what had been left behind. They should have been back by this morning at the latest. The fact that they haven’t worries him.
He’s not alone in his vigil, several wives of the young men as well as various other family members stand with him. “What could have happened to them?” one woman asks to no one in particular.
Remembering the ill omen that had streaked through the sky, he has little hope of seeing them again. It was decided that in the morning if the young men haven’t returned, he and several other men would ride out to see if they could find them. Some have supposed the men could have had a wagon wheel break on them, or maybe a horse took lame and they were returning slower than usual. Unwilling to dash their hopes, he keeps his opinions to himself.
Then from out of the desert a movement is seen in the starlight. From its shape it appears to be a man stumbling about. Zyrn and two of the other men rush out toward the approaching man, the women follow right behind.
“Khalim!” cries out one man in recognition. Khalim was one of the young men who had gone to the battlefield and happens to be the man’s son.
Zyrn and the father reach him at the same time. Another man carrying a lantern joins them and they stop in shock at what they see. Eyes wide, a tinge of madness to them, his hair is disheveled and matted to his head. He hardly looks like the same man that left two days ago.
“Khalim!” exclaims one of the women. “Where are the others? Where is Ibala?”
Khalim’s eyes dart around without recognition. A speck of white foam begins to ooze from the corner of his mouth.
“What’s wrong with him?” his father asks.
“I don’t know,” Zyrn replies. “Take him home.”
“Ibala!” cries the woman, and then others begin crying out the names of their loved ones.
“We can’t wait until morning,” one man says.
Zyrn turns to him and says, “No, we can’t.” Taking five of the men with him, they hurry back to their homes and saddle their horses. Once they are ready and each has several torches, Zyrn has each light one. Then with torches held aloft, they race into the desert to try to find out what happened.
Chapter Three
The next morning they are up and off with the dawn. Throughout the day they see the signs of the battles that have raged through here. Ever since the battle at Lythylla turned the tide in Madoc’s favor, the enemy has been pushed further back toward the original border. In places the dead remain unburied though there are work details out collecting them as quickly as they can.
Travelers are still nonexistent, at least those of a civilian nature. The odd patrol, messenger or rider at times approaches them from the north but continues by without a word on their way to the south. None ever so much as says hello.
When they reach the town of Cerinet to the north of Saragon, there are more visible signs of battle. Mounds dot the countryside from where the dead have been buried in communal graves. The walls surrounding the city show extensive damage from the Madoc catapults which battered away in their attempt to breach the walls. One gaping hole in the wall shows where the attackers finally were able to bring down the defenses of the defenders.
A squad of men ride to intercept them when they approach but only delay them a moment. Once they find out who they are the soldiers allow them to proceed. Not bothering to linger any longer, they once more head up the road to the Merchant’s Pass.
They push their horses relentlessly in their desire to reach the Pass quickly. When darkness begins to fall they are forced to stop and give the horses a break. Even with the spare horses, the unrelenting pace has worn them out.
A quick meal and then they’re to bed. Out here on the road, they rotate a watch throughout the night. The recruits have the honor of pulling that particular duty. The barest sliver of moon rises to shed a small amount of light on the world. James looks at it with anxiety. For when it again passes to full and returns to dark, the knife will fall and Tinok will die.
He sees Jiron staring up at the moon too. Getting up, he goes over and takes a seat on the ground next to him. “Worried?” he asks.
Nodding, Jiron replies, “Everyday his doom approaches. And here we are, moving further away.”
“I know,” he says reassuringly. “Tomorrow we’ll see the others safely to the Pass then we can return in search of him.”
“Sometimes life can be hard,” a voice says behind them. Turning around they see Shorty standing there. “There comes a time in everyone’s life when he’s faced with two choices at odds with each other. If it’s any consolation, I think Tinok would be satisfied with the choice you made.”
“Thanks,” says Jiron. “Doesn’t make me worry any less though.”
“If the god’s decide we are to find Tinok in time, we will” he says with conviction.
“But what if one god wants us to find him and another doesn’t?” Scar asks as he and Potbelly join the conversation.
“Then we are left to our own devices,” states James. He gives the pair an irritated gaze. They are doing nothing to alleviate Jiron’s anxiety over Tinok.
“Which I find has been the case more often than not,” says Jiron. Glancing at everyone he adds, “I appreciate your concern, I really do.” Then his eyes flick to movement behind Scar and Potbelly and sees Aleya coming toward him.
As she makes her way between the pair, Potbelly clears his throat then says, “Maybe we all should make ourselves scarce.”
With a grin and a wink to Jiron, Scar says, “An excellent idea.”
They leave and allow Jiron and Aleya what privacy they can. As James returns to his blankets Aleya sits next to Jiron and as they’ve done so much of late. They sit and just hold each other as they talk quietly. The last sight he sees before falling to sleep is them sitting together, her head on his shoulder.
That night as he sleeps, dreams of Meliana run through his mind.
Miko had an uneventful sleep, no dream came to awaken him in the middle of the night much to his relief. He didn’t mind it when James had the dreams that left him in a cold sweat, but he definitely doe
sn’t care for them now that they are happening to him.
Up with the dawn, they’re quickly riding hard down the road. The road has continued to run alongside the river throughout their journey and if James’ memory is correct, they’ll follow it all the way to the Pass.
Not long after they leave camp they approach what once was the town of Pleasant Meadows. Now little more than a demolished ruin, there’s not much more to it than stone walls and chimneys which survived the flames that raged here. Throughout the ruins, people can be seen as they search through the rubble.
“I feel sorry for them,” comments Delia.
“War is always hardest on regular folks,” adds James.
A few people here and there take notice of their passing, only pausing in what they are doing to watch them ride by. Another road intersects the one they’ve been following and they turn onto it heading west toward the Pass. The Silver Mountains begin to appear before them and it isn’t long before Pleasant Meadows disappears behind them.
“Not much further now,” states Jiron. Elated to deliver his sister to a place of safety, he’s also saddened by the prospect of having to leave her once again.
Signs of the Empire encampment where they maintained a presence before the mouth of the Pass appear as the day progresses. They had constructed several buildings during their occupation and fire pits dot the area. At one point a Madoc patrol intercepts them, but as before, they are allowed to continue their journey.
When the mountains have risen high before them, a wooden wall appears ahead. It crosses the road and extends to the river on the right and far to the mountains on the left. Where the road passes through stands an open gate guarded by a squad of men. They see that the men are a mix of Cardri and Madoc soldiers.
One of the men wearing the uniform of a Cardri soldier steps forward as they draw close. Holding up his hand he signals for them to stop. “Good day to you all,” he says when they come to a stop. “Are you planning on taking the Pass into Cardri?”
“Yes,” replies James. “Some of our group plan to.”
“There isn’t a problem is there?” asks Jiron concerned.
“Not at all,” replies the guard. “Seeing as how they put us out here in the middle of nowhere and all the action is down south, we must look like we are actually doing something.” Giving them a smile he waves for them to continue through the gate and into the Pass.
Jiron moves his horse next to his sister’s and says, “I guess this is where we part again.”
“It looks like it dear brother,” she says. A tear begins to well from her eyes and she adds, “I told myself I wasn’t going to cry.”
Leaning over to her he envelopes her in a big hug. “Everything will turn out fine,” he assures her. “You keep working on those bears of yours and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Those who are leaving and moving on into Cardri begin to disengage themselves from the others. The pit fighters move to face the recruits as they gather near Delia.
“Now you be on your best behavior!” Scar tells them.
“If you aren’t,” says Potbelly, “we’ll have to come and thump you.”
“Leave them alone,” Delia says to them, “they will be fine. A lot better than the last guards I had. They were a bunch of drunken layabouts!”
Shorty laughs and says, “You take care.”
“I will,” she says and moves to give him a hug.
Blushing, he sits there in the saddle and hugs her back. Behind him, barely heard jeers and inappropriate comments come from his friends.
Aleya gives Delia and Tersa both a big hug goodbye.
Turning to the pit fighters, Delia says, “You boys better be on your best behavior as well.” Nodding to Aleya she adds, “If I hear of anyone being rude or belligerent around her I’ll come back and do a little thumping of my own!”
“Yes ma’am,” Stig says with a serious expression on his face which lasts all of a second before he breaks into a grin.
“We better go or we’ll never get home,” states Delia. To those not going with her she says, “You be careful and bring Tinok home.” Then she turns her horse toward the Pass and begins the last leg of the journey back to The Ranch. Tersa and the recruits follow along behind.
Jiron sits there and waits until they disappear further into the Pass then turns to James. “Ready?” he asks.
Nodding, he says, “Let’s go find Tinok.”
They spread out in a search pattern not long after leaving Abi Salim. In the dark they went slow as they kept a close eye out for any of the others who might be lost in the dark. By the time dawn comes, none of the young men have yet been found.
“Zyrn, look,” one of the men who accompanies him says. Pointing off to the south, he directs their attention to a dozen wagons moving on an almost parallel course with them.
“They’re heading to the battlefield,” Zyrn says. He knows those who are driving the wagons, they belong to a town south of theirs. Not known for their sociability, Zyrn decides to give them a wide berth. “If they are on the way to scavenge the dead, they won’t act kindly to anyone who happens by.”
“Maybe they would help us look for the others?” another suggests.
Shaking his head, Zyrn turns his attention to the man and replies, “Not these people. They would just as soon kill you as not.”
Just then, the men driving the wagons take notice of Zyrn and his group. With a flick of the reins they race forward to be first to the battlefield, apparently not knowing the dead have been almost completely scavenged already.
Zyrn gauges the distance between them and figures the wagons will reach the battlefield first. “We’ll keep our distance,” he tells the others. “We have more important things to worry about right now.”
Kicking his horse into motion, he moves quickly across the desert. He doesn’t travel far before he sees a body lying in the dirt a little to the north. “Over here!” he hollers. The others move to join him and they soon reach the body of one of the missing young men.
Hoping down from his horse, he’s quick to realize the young man is dead. Lying on his stomach the way he is, the man almost appears to be sleeping. Reaching out, Zyrn turns him over.
Jumping back in startlement, he almost loses the contents of his stomach. One of the men traveling with him does double over and begins vomiting. The skin of the young man is gray, gray like the sand surrounding the battlefield. Not only that, but his features seem to be sagging like wax held too close to heat. The young man’s eyes are open, the pupils are gray as well.
“I think it is Hakim,” one man says.
“He is,” confirms Zyrn.
“What happened?” another man asks.
“I don’t know but we better find the others quick,” he says. Mounting he turns to the others and says, “We’ll come back and get him on our return.” With the rest following he continues toward the battlefield.
When they reach the beginning of the gray area he pauses. The face of the dead man they left behind comes to mind. The fact that his face was gray gives him pause in entering the gray sand.
“There’s another!” cries out one of the men.
Further into the area of gray sand lies another of the missing young men. As one of the men makes to enter the grayness, Zyrn yells, “Stop!”
“But he may need our help, Zyrn,” the man says.
Dismounting, Zyrn moves to the edge of the gray sand. Bending over, he hesitantly reaches down and touches it. The feel of it is the same as it was when they were here before. Turning to the man he stopped, he nods.
Kicking his horse in the sides, the man races over to the body lying in the sand. By the time Zyrn has remounted the man has stopped and is kneeling by the body. When Zyrn and the others approach, the man glances back to him and says, “It’s Ibala.”
His features mimic that of the other dead man; gray skin that looks like melted wax and pupils that have turned gray. “Do you think anyone is left alive?” one man asks.<
br />
Gazing out over the grey desert Zyrn shakes his head and replies, “I doubt it.” Further toward the sight of the battle, he sees the wagons of the other scavengers. They have stopped before reaching the area where the dead soldiers lay.
“They stopped,” he comments.
The others look to see what he’s talking about. “What do you think made them do that?” one of his companions asks.
“I don’t know,” he replies. Putting his hand across his forehead to keep the sun off his eyes, he tries to get a clearer view. Then movement catches his eye. Six figures are running away from the wagons back the way they came. “They are running away,” he says nervously.
“What should we do?” asks the man next to him. Despite his attempt to sound calm, fear has crept into his voice.
“I’m not sure but we better find out what’s going on,” he says. Kicking his horse in the sides he bolts toward the fleeing men. Before he has gone half the distance, three of the men fall and don’t get up. Then another falls and then another.
He reaches the last man just as he hits the ground. “Stay back!” Zyrn orders the others. Moving closer he watches as the man writhes upon the ground. Not a sound does the man make other than that of his limbs moving in the dirt. A spasm rips through him and he flips onto his back.
Most of his skin has turned gray and is beginning to sag in the same manner as the young men they found. One pupil is gray and the other is almost there. The man’s jaw opens and closes as if he’s trying to say something. Then another spasm tears through him before his body becomes still.
“Zyrn,” one man says with barely controlled fear evident in his voice, “let’s get out of here.”
“But we haven’t found my son,” another man argues.
“He’s dead!” the scared man exclaims. “They all are!”
“I’m not leaving here until I find my son!” the man shouts.
They look to Zyrn for a decision.
He glances from one to the others and then says, “I’ll stay here with Zaki. The rest of you return to the village and tell them what is going on.”
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